Neighborly(89)

She cocks her head and gives me a coy smile. “Depends. Who’ve you been sleeping with?” Then she lets out a big laugh. “Just kidding! We’re still waiting for you to give us an answer. Are you in or are you out?”

“Doug and I have been kind of busy. We haven’t really made a decision.”

“Which way are you leaning? No, wait, don’t tell me. Just give us another chance to convince you. Tomorrow night we’re going back to Hound for another girls’ night.”

“I’ll think about it.”

She winks. “That’s right, play hard to get!”

I start to head down her front steps, looking up and down the street, debating my next destination.

I don’t see Yolanda’s car, but Wyatt’s is there. The last thing I want is for word to get back to her that I was interacting with Wyatt alone. I feel like Yolanda and I are at a détente after our talk last night, and I don’t want to jeopardize it.

I also want to avoid Andie’s house, but I can’t anymore. I need to get that handwriting sample and rule her out. Or in.

I knock on the door of their immense Tudor, remembering how intimidated I once was by her, for an entirely different reason. I recall that first dinner, and her awe-inspiring kitchen ceiling, and her breathtaking dining room, and all that talk about Fisher’s adoption that felt both spontaneous and intimate. Did she know then that she wanted Doug? Did she already know she was going to betray me?

“Here,” I say coldly. I shove the petition at her. “It’s for Children’s Hospital. Print and sign.”

“How is Sadie adjusting to being home?” Her tone is sweet, like she won’t even dignify my rudeness. She takes the clipboard and signs quickly, like she has nothing to hide. “You must be in heaven having her back!”

I can’t make pleasantries with her after everything. “Is Nolan here? I need all the signatures I can get.”

“He is, but he’s upstairs in his office, in the middle of a conference call.” She signed, but she doesn’t seem very eager for him to do the same.

“I’ll wait and catch him on his way out. What time does he leave for work?”

“He’s working from home today.”

I stare her down. She needs to know I’m not just some pushover. I’m Sadie’s mother and Doug’s wife, and both of those mean something. “I’m passionate about this, Andie. I’m going to get that signature. So when will he be available? I’ll keep coming back.”

She splits my eardrums with a sudden yell. “Nolan! Come here!”

He appears relatively quickly, a piece of half-eaten toast in his hand. She lied. He wasn’t upstairs on a conference call; he was in the kitchen.

“How are you, Kat?” I realize that he’s the first person who led with that, rather than asking about Sadie. He seems like he genuinely wants to know. If our spouses are sleeping with each other, that’s got to be a certain kind of bond.

“Just happy to be home and to have Sadie home.”

“What do you have here?”

I hand him the clipboard, and he’s the first one to read it. He hesitates, the pen in hand, and then he looks at me curiously. I get the funny feeling he knows it’s a bunch of hooey. I gaze back at him, like a woman with nothing to hide. He prints and signs, then returns the clipboard. “Seems like a worthwhile measure,” he says. “I hope it makes the ballot.”

Andie is standing a little bit behind him. She seems subdued. Chastened, I hope.

“Thanks,” I say.

“No, thank you,” Nolan says, and I don’t know what he means, but he sounds friendly and sincere, so I’ll take it. And run.

I’ve saved June for last. Her car is there, and so is her daughter’s. Yet I bang and bang, and ring and ring, and no one answers. Strange that she’d avoid me, since as far as she knows, I think she’s my AV soul mate. That’s what I told her, back when I meant it.

Maybe they’re just heavy sleepers. I’ll go back later.

Inside my own home, Doug and Sadie are still asleep. I linger an extra minute in Sadie’s room, stroking her hair with the lightest of touches, like a present I’m giving myself. Then I force myself to leave. I can’t risk disturbing her. She needs her rest.

I go back downstairs. Since I can’t get the most likely suspect’s handwriting sample yet, I might as well inspect what I do have. I lay the one remaining note out in front of me and hold the petition in my lap.

At first glance, none of their handwriting matches. No one’s printing is neat enough. But the notes are block letters, and no one printed their name that way. Also, they could be writing in a different style to throw me off.

I Google forensic handwriting analysis and try again. I’m looking for differences first, at the amount and degree of slant, at the spacing between letters and words, and at the shapes.

Still nothing.

That could just mean, by process of elimination, that June wrote all the notes.

She acted alone, that’s all. Everyone else is in the clear, which is good news. It’s just one bad apple.

But somehow I don’t think so.

Because she didn’t even check who was at her door. I know she’s an early riser because she told me that during our very first conversation, when she mentioned how early the trash pickup is, and because she welcomed me to GoodNeighbors before sunrise. She’s up; I know she is.