Black Lies(20)

“Here?” Brant looked out the window at the homes before us, my car settling into a spot out front. “I’ve been here before.”

“At the ribbon cutting. I know. I was there too. That didn’t count. Get out.” I opened my door and stepped out, taking a few steps back and snagging a stuffed unicorn off the lawn.

Brant’s door shut and I looked over to see him, his posture awkward, his eyes sweeping over the compound, five brick homes, a fenced yard connecting them, three kids clustered in the shade of an oak, a dog sniffing the edge of the fence and eyeing us as if wondering whether to attack. Brown eyes hit me and his tail started to wag. I stepped toward the gate and flipped the latch. Squeezed through and squatted, running my hands over the collie. “Hey Buster.” I ran him through his three tricks: sit, shake, and down, glancing over when Brant entered the yard and crouched to our level.

“Buster, huh?” He reached out a hand and tousled the collie’s head.

“Yep. Meet the most loved dog in the Greater Bay area.”

I heard the soft sound of steps seconds before a small body flung through the air, knocking my squatting self back into soft grass.

“Miz Lana!” Hannah, a six-year-old bundle of trouble, squealed as she squeezed my neck tightly enough to restrict air flow.

“Hey sweetie,” I gasped. “Let me up a minute so I can introduce you to someone.” I put a hand on the grass and hoisted us both to standing, flashing a smile at the two other kids, ones I’d never seen but would guess to be a few years older than Hannah, the close press of their bodies indicating a sibling familiarity verified by the twin shocks of red hair both possessed. I readjusted Hannah’s weight until she rested on my hip. “Hannah, this is my friend Mr. Brant.”

“Hi Mister Brant.” She reached a solemn hand out, a hand Brant shook with equal seriousness.

“Nice to meet you Hannah.” Brant’s eyes flipped to mine. Dark and intelligent.

I turned to the others. “You guys must be new. I’m Lana, and this is my friend Brant.”

“I told them all about you,” Hannah said with importance, her dark arms tight around my neck.

“Well… tell me about them then, since you know everything,” I teased.

“This is Samuel and Ann. They’re from Boatland.”

“Oakland,” the boy corrected, glancing at his sister.

I smiled. “Welcome to the house, guys. Which one are you staying in?” The houses were named after states, HYA’s goal to have fifty in the next five years. At the moment, our three-acre estate contained five. We were looking at a lot in Sacramento for more homes, as well as spots in San Jose and Los Angeles.

“Georgia. Though they said we have to split up next month.” Worried glances shot between two faces that were too young to have any concerns other than spilled milk.

“Don’t worry about that.” I readjusted Hannah on my hip, her weight tiring. “By next month you guys will have so many friends here you’ll be begging for time away from each other. And the separation will only be at night. Days and meals are all free-for-alls between homes, so you guys will have lots of time together, should you want it.” I glanced at Brant. “I’ve got to take Mr. Brant inside, but I’ll see you guys again before we leave.” I gently set Hannah down, giving each newbie a big smile before looping my arm through Brant’s and pulling him toward the main house aka HQ, a six thousand square foot structure on the back of the property, where meals were served, sleepovers and movie nights held, and general bedlam occurred all day every day.

“This place is amazing,” he said, glancing at the homes, the basketball court filled with moving bodies, a bevy of girls sprinting around the corner of a nearby house and flying past us.

“It is.” I nodded. “All made possible by your donation.”

“Maybe I should increase it.”

I grinned. “That was, in part, my ulterior motive in bringing you here.”

He paused, his firm hold on my hand bringing me to a stop. “You don’t ever need motives, Lana. Anything you want, anything that makes you happy… just ask.”

“I know.” I tilted my head. “But I figure you might as well see the impact of your money.” I pulled him forward. “Come on. I want to show you the main house.”





We stopped on the third floor deck, an open area scattered with outdoor furniture, a group of girls sunbathing to our right. From its height, you could see the entire campus. “How many kids live in this house?” he asked.