Hold Me Close(29)

Effie had ordered a plain corn muffin. “I don’t eat here very often.”

“No? It’s my favorite place. I come in, check out the cute guys, drink a latte. Catch up with my reading.” For a moment, Dee looked sad. “Since Brad left, I haven’t been reading as much.”

“But maybe you’ve been checking out the cute boys more often, huh?” Effie glanced around to see if she could find any, but the coffee shop was mostly empty.

Dee still looked sad when Effie turned back to her. “Yeah. It’s hard, though. You know? Finding someone nice.”

“Yeah...yeah, I bet.” It seemed like the right thing to say, until it came out. Then it sounded sort of condescending, which wasn’t how she’d meant it, at all. To make up for the fact that she’d sounded like a straight-up bitch, Effie admitted, “I’ve been on a dating site for about six months. God, no. Longer than that now.”

“Any luck?” Dee waggled her eyebrows.

“Not much. Well. There’s one guy. He’s all right.”

“Yeah?” Dee looked thoughtful. “I thought you and...”

“No,” Effie said when Dee didn’t finish. “Not for a long time. We’re friends, that’s all.”

Dee looked embarrassed. “Hey, do you remember Mrs. Kettle?”

The twelfth-grade English teacher. She’d almost failed Effie, keeping her from graduating with her class. “She made me do a bunch of extra credit work in order to get a freaking D.”

Dee nodded. “She was a tough one. Well, she published a book!”

“Really?” Effie laughed at the thought of it. “What kind?”

“A romance,” Dee said. “A really smutty one, apparently. We’re going to read it for our book club. You want to join?”

Effie hadn’t read a book for pleasure in years. “Umm...how smutty is it?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s got...you know, spanking and stuff in it.” Dee looked so gleeful that Effie had to laugh again. “What? It’s kinky, right?”

Spanking. The thought of it twisted Effie’s smile a little. She’d done so many things more f*cked up than that, though she doubted they’d count as BDSM. “Yeah. Totally.”

Dee lifted her coffee cup. “I’m in!”

Effie shook her head. “Okay. Sure. I’ll read it.”

“Good. The meeting’s at Nancy Gordan’s house at the end of the month. Peter’s mom? I’ll email you the information.” Dee beamed. “You know, Effie...I know we weren’t really friends in school. But I hope we can try to be friends now.”

“High school was a long time ago,” Effie admitted slowly.

“I always admired you,” Dee blurted.

Effie’s eyebrows went up. “You did?”

“Yeah. Even...before. When we were younger. You were always so good in art class and stuff. I’m not surprised you sell your paintings.” Dee nodded.

“Well. Thanks.” Heat crept up Effie’s cheeks and throat, but the compliment pleased her.

“And I’m really sorry, again, about the stuff with Meredith and Polly. I talked with her about gossip.” Dee looked rueful. “It’s a lesson I should’ve learned myself a long time ago. I guess it made me feel important or something, because I remembered when it happened and none of the other women in the group did. I mean, most of them had no idea.”

Effie frowned. “And now they do. Thanks.”

“I don’t blame you for being mad,” Dee said hastily. “I just hope you can forgive me.”

“Holding a grudge doesn’t really do anyone any good.” Effie shrugged. “What happened to me and Heath was a long time ago. I try to forget about it as much as I can. Move on.”

Dee was quiet for a second before she said in a low voice. “But you don’t, do you? I mean, the artwork. It’s all related to the...what happened. You paint it, right? I’ve seen your stuff. It’s good. But a little scary.”

Good, but a little scary. It wasn’t the first time someone had called Effie’s paintings that. It was better than hearing that her work was boring as shit, pretentious and tried too hard to capitalize on her notoriety, which she’d also heard more than once.


“Yes. Sometimes. The art helps. Like cutting out an infection,” Effie told her.

“Yeah. I can see that.” Dee nodded and sipped her coffee.

She didn’t mean to ask, but the words came out anyway. “Dee...when you told me about him getting out of prison...”

Dee looked embarrassed. “Yeah, that was crappy. I’m sorry.”

“No. It wasn’t. It’s not true, I don’t think,” Effie said. “But if you could tell me where you heard it, so I could look it up?”

“Oh. Shoot. Well, I heard it from one of the moms. I’m trying to remember who.” Dee bit her lower lip, frowning. “I can’t think of it, or where she heard it. But I’ll ask around, okay? If you really—”

“No, that’s okay,” Effie cut in quickly with a small laugh and a wave of her hand. “I’ve heard for years, off and on, that he’s getting out. It’s never true. I’m sure it’s not this time, either.”