One Small Thing(27)

So when Jeff turns to me and asks, “We gonna split some nachos or what?” I muster up a big smile and say, “Absolutely.”





12

As planned, Jeff picks me up around seven and we grab some ice cream. He talks about England the whole time, but I’m okay with that because I don’t particularly want to talk about myself. While he blabs, I send Scarlett a text asking if she’s changed her mind about the party and she responds with a curt no. Okay then.

Before the party, we stop by Jeff’s house.

“I’ve gotta trade cars. This is way too expensive to take to Lincoln,” he explains as he drives past the gates and down the long driveway to his, well, there’s no other way to explain it—mansion. I don’t know what Jeff’s dad does, but they have lots and lots of money.

He bypasses the circular drive in front of the house and pulls up along a side entrance. “Wait here,” he says.

One side of Jeff’s house could fit the entirety of ours. I’ve never been inside, but Rachel says it reminded her of a house you’d see in a magazine and that when she talked, it echoed. I mean, she said that. Back when she was alive.

Toward the back, there’s an indoor pool with a slide and a hot tub. Despite all the extras, Jeff never has parties here. Rachel says—said that he’s very particular about who he allows in his space. I guess that’s why I’m waiting outside instead of being offered a glass of water or something.

Suddenly, I experience a teeny jolt of panic. Because, what am I doing hanging out with Rachel’s boyfriend? This feels weird and sort of like a betrayal and—

And he’s not her boyfriend anymore, I have to remind myself. Rachel doesn’t have a boyfriend, because Rachel isn’t alive. And I’m not really “hanging out” with Jeff. He’s doing me a solid tonight, and I appreciate it, but I don’t have any interest in starting something up with him.

Whether she’s dead or not, Jeff will always be my sister’s boyfriend to me.

Jeff returns, jangling a pair of keys. He changed into a loose-fitting blue button-down that’s only halfway tucked into jeans. He points toward the rear of the house. “I’ll be right back.”

“I can walk to the car with you.”

“Nah.” He waves me off. The ends of his shirt flap as he jogs away.

I look down at my own jeans and tight T-shirt. I wish I was wearing a skirt, but Dad wouldn’t have believed I was going to help out with building if I was dressed to go partying.

A minute later, Jeff pulls up in a nice four-door sedan. “Get in.”

I climb inside and glance around the tidy interior.

“Sorry about this piece of trash,” he says, “but I can’t risk my baby.”

Piece of trash? This car is as nice as mine. “Whose is it?”

“Debbie’s son’s.”

“Debbie?”

“Our housekeeper.” Jeff flips me a cord. “Jack in your phone and play some tunes.”

I hesitate, my hand on the door handle. Maybe we should take something else? There’s my perfectly good car sitting in the garage at my house. Jeff’s so good at talking my dad into anything, maybe the Jeff magic would work on my car.

I open my mouth to suggest it, but Jeff presses the gas and guns the car down the driveway.

“What happens if it gets boosted?” I ask as I buckle in.

“Not my concern. They should have insurance or something,” he says cavalierly.

I run a hand against the cloth interior. The car smells vaguely like lemons and the interior is spotless. Even the floor mats look like they’ve been recently vacuumed. Whoever the housekeeper’s son is, he loves this car.

“I hope nothing happens to it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff says. “If anything does happen, he’ll probably get a new one from the insurance company.”

I’m not certain that’s how insurance works, but Jeff’s so confident. Besides, he’d know the son better than me. I force myself to relax into the cushions. “Okay.”

Jeff reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Look at you being all thoughtful. It’s cute.”

I ignore the prickle of discomfort I feel at being called “cute” by Rachel’s boyfriend. Jeff’s doing me a favor. If he wants to call me cute, then I’ll deal.

We drive for a bit in silence. My mind drifts back to school and Chase. I wonder if it would be better if he left. This is Rachel’s school. Her name is actually on a tiny “in memoriam” plaque near the music room. The reminders have to bother him, right? I wish I could get away from all the memories, so it must be just as bad for him.

“Do you think Chase should leave Darling?” I ask Jeff. Jeff must be haunted by Rachel, too, although he doesn’t seem like it. His two years away must’ve helped a lot. If it was me, I would’ve stayed in London.

“Chase?”

“Charlie Donnelly.”

“You call him Chase?”

I squirm in my seat at Jeff’s incredulous tone. “He told me that was his name.”

Jeff heaves a huge sigh. “Lizzie—I mean, Beth, you’re a little too innocent for your own good. If you call him by a nickname, he’s going to think he’s forgiven for what he did.”