However, she’d never paid taxes on all the money she’d received from the senator, which was a crime—tax evasion. But very quickly a judge approved a settlement, to be paid with proceeds from the sale of the house. No one wanted to see Gigi sent to prison. After all, she was a victim, too.
The moms had scoped out a town-house development called Wildflower Hills in a neighboring town. Each unit had its own patch of grass out front, and in the back each had a patio. Brown and white cookie-cutter homes. My grandfather would be rolling over in his grave, or so the expression went.
But actually, I didn’t think so. I thought about the dead all the time now, and I decided that even if they had some sort of inexplicable knowledge of what happened after they’d gone, I didn’t think they’d care so much, at least not about all the stuff we tend to place value on during the course of our lives. Six feet under, what did it matter if my grandfather had designed a one-of-a-kind beachfront estate or if he’d lived out his days in a boxy apartment? The ones left behind honor the dead simply by doing the best they can.
And what I came to understand was, all that time she was raising us, Gigi really was doing the best she could. I’d softened to her, realizing how she’d tried to give us everything we wanted, and to teach us things, from meditation to power poses, to help us move through life. I think some of those lessons even worked. The moms kept saying that, despite some of the awful choices she’d made, Gigi had managed to raise two remarkable girls. I didn’t feel so remarkable myself. But Susannah sure was. And as for me, I was doing the best I could, too.
I drove out to see Wildflower Hills, and I agreed that when Gigi got out, she should go live there, or someplace just like it. Of course, she’d remain under a doctor’s care, too. Once a week the community gardener would come to water lawns and clip hedges, taking care of the outside. Susannah and I decided we’d hire a housekeeper to come in once a week to help Gigi with the inside of the town house. But neither of us would be living there with her.
Susannah had found a farm in upstate New York that hosted high school students. In exchange for helping with various chores, she’d get free room and board. Once September hit, she’d begin her sophomore year at the school a mile away.
I looked at the pictures of the farm Susannah showed me online. “I don’t know,” I told her. “You’ll be sharing a bunk in a barn with three other strangers.”
“And what did you do when you went to boarding school?” she asked. She had me there.
The moms drove Susannah up to visit and agreed to sign off on the arrangement, as long as her grade point average stayed steady. Before she moved, she made flyers to find homes for her dozens of cats, and she personally met with each of the new owners to be sure they’d be the right fit for her babies.
So Susannah left. And then so did Lennox, back to Hillyer for senior year. She had to go a couple of weeks before classes officially started, because months earlier she’d signed up for the advisor program for incoming freshmen. “Come with me,” she’d said. We were in her room at Dream Hollow, and she was packing up the vintage presidential-campaign posters she’d ordered for her dorm-room walls: LET’S BACK JACK KENNEDY FOR PRESIDENT and ALL THE WAY WITH LBJ. She’d pull them out of their tubes, hold them up to admire them, then reroll them, put them back into their tubes, and gingerly place them in her big trunk, as if she was laying a baby in a crib.
“Kathleen Strafford filled my spot weeks ago,” I reminded her. She unrolled a picture of an owl and held it up to show me. “The Wise Old Bird Says ‘Hoo, Hoo, Hoo-Hoo-ver,’” I read aloud. “Definitely my favorite.”
“You haven’t even tried to see if Strafford is willing to squeeze you back in, so you don’t know for sure that she wouldn’t.”
“True.”
“Get on it, Hollander! You were at Hillyer for the last three years. Don’t you want to finish up high school where you started it?”
I couldn’t say money was the issue anymore, and Lennox knew it. Even with Gigi’s tax settlement, there was still a nice chunk left over from the sale of Edgewater. Plus, the senator’s will had been read, and Susannah and I were both named in it. There was a trust fund, a real one, with an executor chosen by the bank. All our expenses would be vetted through him—not Gigi. If I wanted to, and if Ms. Strafford could find a spot for me, I could go to the executor to approve my tuition payment.
“They all feel bad, you know.”
I did know. Among the flowers that had arrived for me at the Sackler-Kandells’ were two enormous arrangements from Hillyer. One from the headmaster, and one from Kathleen Strafford herself. Both made mention of “your Hillyer family.”
“That’s not it,” I told Lennox. “For the first time in my life, I don’t want to run away from home. I think that means I’m supposed to stick around for a while.”
I’d made plans to live at the one place in Idlewild that still felt like home—Oceanfront. It had been Naomi’s idea. She said there was plenty of room in the house, and she could use the company. I had no idea if she really meant it; Naomi didn’t strike me as the type of person who ever got lonely. But I decided to take her up on her offer nonetheless. She had let me choose between two guest bedrooms at the top of the stairs. I picked the smaller one, painted yellow, with a bookshelf taking up the length of the longest wall and a window that looked out to the barn so that when Orion stuck his head out the back window of his stall, I could see him.
My Orion. He’d be living in Idlewild, too. Not because of Underhill’s payment—I wouldn’t have taken anything from Underhill Enterprises, even if the police hadn’t frozen the company and all its assets. But I’d called Beth-Ann to see about buying him back myself. She’d flat-out refused, even though I offered ten percent over the purchase price, then twenty percent. “Name your price,” I’d told her.
“He’s not for sale,” she said.
Those words were familiar. We hung up, and it wasn’t even five minutes before I got a call from Clayton Bracelee, Beth-Ann’s dad. I could have Orion back, and a refund of the sale price was just fine—no need to inflate it. He’d even take care of the shipping costs. He proceeded to give an interview about it—free press for the candy company. But I didn’t care. My horse was coming home.
Lennox stuck the owl poster into the trunk, pouting. “I thought we were starting senior year together early this summer. I didn’t know we wouldn’t get it at all.”
I knocked her in the ribs. “You’ll have Nathan,” I reminded her.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him,” she said. “And, regardless, he’s no substitute for you.”
“No, for that you have Violet Tabachnick.”
When I said Violet’s name, Lennox wrinkled her nose as if she’d drunk milk gone sour.
“Sorry. Is she that bad?”
“So far we’ve only e-mailed to work out which one of us is bringing the mini fridge and which one is bringing the throw rug. And I know you’re going to tell me I should give her the benefit of the doubt until I meet her, but what kind of person do you think wouldn’t have a roommate worked out for senior year?”
“Who has two thumbs and is holding an ‘I Still Like Ike’ poster?” I asked her.
“This girl,” Lennox said softly. She looked at me, tears brimming in her eyes. “Aw, man, Lorrie. I’m really going to miss you.”
My own eyes grew moist. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
“What if I bag this advisor thing? There are plenty of people who want to be freshman advisors, and we’d get a couple more weeks of summer together.”
I shook my head. “You should go,” I said. “You’ll be a great advisor, and October break will be here before we know it.”
Lennox closed the trunk and pulled me into a hug. “This is the first time I’ll be at Hillyer without you—or Pepper.”
I squeezed her, too, tightly, and then broke away and wiped my eyes. “I hope I didn’t pressure you into leaving him.”
“No
, you’re right. Jeremy is a better rider for him. Pepper will get to show what he’s made of, and the moms love the idea of owning a horse that might win big.”
“You can always change your mind,” I told her. Though for Jeremy’s sake, I hoped she didn’t. “And I’ll look after him, too.”
“I know you will. The truth is, I love Pepper, but I haven’t loved riding in a long time. I never loved it as much as you did. I rode for you, you know. I rode him to stay close to you.”
“That’s an expensive pastime, just to hang out with your best friend.”
“You were worth it.”
CHARLIE CALLED TO SAY HE WANTED TO SEE ME.
“Not somewhere public,” he said.
Because people would see. I understood. The last photo we’d been in together, standing in the center of the parking lot of the Idlewild Cemetery, had been in newspapers around the world. I imagined people in other countries picking up the paper. I imagined one particular person in one particular country—my mother—grabbing the morning’s paper as she walked through King’s Cross to catch a train. She’d find her seat, flip it open, and see me. Her long-lost daughter. Or rather, I wasn’t lost; I’d been in the same place all these years. I wondered if she’d recognize the five-year-old she knew in the seventeen-year-old I’d become.
Of course I knew that Mom was dead, that she’d never been in England. But I still pictured her there. I couldn’t help myself.
I had a few days to pack up what was left at Edgewater, and I told Charlie he could stop by the house. It was perfectly safe and private, save for the occasional car that would slow down at the bottom of the driveway just to gawk at the house. But the press had packed up their cameras and left a couple of days after Mom’s funeral. I guess they’d finally taken enough pictures of the house where Mom no longer lived. The pile of flowers at the end of the driveway was also gone, courtesy of Island Crime Decontamination. Though before they disposed of them all, Susannah ran down to rescue a bouquet of pink sweetheart roses. She pressed them between the pages of a thick old book and brought them upstate.
IT WAS ANOTHER CHARACTERISTICALLY GORGEOUS Idlewild day, and I’d thrown open all the windows that I could reach. The house was flooded with natural light, and I felt like I was outdoors, but not in the way I used to. Instead of the outdoors creeping in unwanted through the floorboards and invading the sanctity of our home, it was all air and freshness. A breeze swept through, rustling the curtains and brushing my cheek like a kiss. It was wishful thinking—I knew that—but I hoped it was a sign from my mother, and it was the happiest moment I’d had in Edgewater since she’d been gone.
I had downloaded James Taylor’s Greatest Hits onto my phone, but I hadn’t been able to listen to it. Now I plugged it into a set of speakers and scrolled down to “How Sweet It Is.”
Just after noon, I heard the car drive up. The James Taylor album was playing in a loop as I bubble-wrapped my grandmother’s delft china. A bunch of the pieces had been broken and were now in the dumpster out front, but what was still intact was coming with me to Naomi’s. She’d said I could bring a few things that felt like home, and the blue and white china had long been a favorite of mine. Decades ago, my grandmother had purchased the set for display, and part of me thought it was a little bit crazy to put them in the cabinets of the barn house and use them for everyday things like waffles and spaghetti. I heard a voice in my head that wasn’t my mother’s, couldn’t be my mother’s, but that sounded like hers all the same: What are you saving them for? Just use them. Use them!
Life lessons from a box full of plates.
I taped up the salt and pepper shakers with the peacocks on them and put them in the box. Then I headed downstairs. Charlie was coming up the steps of the porch when I opened the door. Behind him, in the driveway, was a navy-blue BMW. I wondered if it was another from his dad’s collection.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
He gave me an air kiss on either cheek. There was his Julia Copeland training. Plus, he’d finally gotten that haircut his mom wanted so badly. No more bangs, just short hair all around, so thick that the strands stood up on their own like individual fibers of carpet. The new cut made his hair look darker, almost the color it was when it was wet. I could see the tops of his ears for the first time.
Other things seemed different about him, too. I regarded him, trying to put a finger on the features that had changed. I realized that he stood a bit stiffly, as if the effects of the haircut had trickled down all over him.
“I’m glad you came,” I told him, feeling oddly formal myself. “I never got to properly thank you for the watch.”
“It was nothing,” he said. “It was the least I could do.”
“How did you know where to find it?”
“I don’t know if I should tell you.”
“Oh, come on,” I said. “I’ve been racking my brain these last few weeks, trying to remember if I ever told you about pawning it. I know I didn’t, and Lennox swore up and down that she didn’t tell you. She didn’t even know herself until after you gave it to me, when I was obsessing about it.”
“You were obsessing about it?”
My cheeks warmed. “It was nice to have a different kind of mystery to think about,” I said. “Anyway, the only possible explanation I can think of is that you were following me.”
“You’re close,” he said.
“Tell me.”
“Victor Underhill was following you,” he said.
I remembered the sedan that I’d seen on my way into the pawnshop and on my way out again. Underhill had been behind those tinted windows, no doubt.
“He wanted to keep tabs on your family,” Charlie continued. “I’m sure you read about his involvement.”
“Yeah, I did.” The police had interviewed Underhill following Gigi’s confession. He admitted he’d been the guy to step in and arrange a middle-of-the-night repair job on the guardrail. He’d come up with the story about Mom and Nigel moving to London and taken care of the details. But afterward, he’d had a crisis of conscience, or so he claimed, and he’d urged the senator to turn himself in. That was when the senator had ousted him from the inner circle.
Then, when Julia decided to run for Congress, he’d been called back. The senator had recently been diagnosed with Pick’s disease, a brain disease that causes dementia. It wasn’t alcoholism the family was covering up. Julia was afraid that if news of his illness got out, she wouldn’t be elected, and it was her turn, she maintained. After being the supportive political spouse all those years, she didn’t want to have the public thinking she should stay home and care for her ailing husband.
Underhill said he hadn’t known Gigi had been in the car all those years ago. It was the senator himself who started to make secret payments to Gigi to buy her continued silence. Who knew why he chose to keep that one detail a secret from his formerly trusted advisor? Maybe he was worried Underhill would do something to Gigi, or to Susannah and me. Or maybe he was just ashamed. Whatever the reason, due to his illness, he’d recently forgotten to make the promised payments. Underhill didn’t learn the whole truth until Gigi showed up at the Compound the night Susannah was burned, and once he did, he told Gigi he’d take care of things, as long as she kept me away from Charlie. That was why the money for Orion’s board had come in.
“Victor wasn’t about to turn my dad in, because he was sick and all that,” Charlie said. “But when he figured out who you were, he just wanted to be sure you wouldn’t make any trouble for my mom.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to have your mom’s watch back. Even if the way I knew about it was totally sleazy. I guess I didn’t really think through the fact that you’d ask me, or I would’ve come up with a better excuse.”
“There have been a lot of secrets and lies between our families,” I said. “I think we should stick to the truth from now on.”
“Yeah,” he said. “The truth sounds good to me, too.”
�
��I used to pretend I didn’t care about my mom’s things,” I said. “But I always wore the watch, and I’m happy to have it back, however you found it. So, thank you.”
“You thanked me already.”
“I mean it so much I said it twice,” I told him, and I put a hand over the face of the watch and pressed down briefly. It was a new habit I’d developed, touching this thing that Mom had touched. I wondered, if you dusted for prints, whether her fingerprints were still on it. God, how I hoped so.
“Cool,” Charlie said. He nodded, as if he was assuring himself. “Cool. So, this is your house.”
“For another week it is,” I said. “We just sold it. It’s weird, though. I’ve lived here my whole life. Well, my whole life since my mom . . . you know. And even before then, this house has been in my family for decades. I’m going to miss it.”
And that was true: I actually would.
“I like seeing the house where young Lorrie Hollander spent her days.”
I gave a hard nod at the mention of my real last name. “I spent a lot more time at Lennox’s house. I was always looking for excuses to get away from here.”
Charlie regarded me. “Can I come in anyhow?”
“Oh, sorry, yes, you can,” I said. I grinned and opened the door wider. “Yes, you can.”
“You said it twice. I guess that means I’m really allowed to come in.”
“You really are,” I said. He stepped across the threshold. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I told him. “I can’t believe you’re in my house.”
Charlie Copeland, standing in the foyer of Edgewater. A cleaned and dusted version of the Edgewater foyer. But still, a few weeks ago I couldn’t have imagined inviting anyone into my home.
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