“Never.”
“Ever.”
Amy rang the doorbell while the boys spoke in Minion to one another. Emily opened the door, and a scruffy gray dog poked out his head before she could even say hello.
“Bastian, sit! No, sit! I said sit. Good boy.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. He is . . . well, suffice it to say he was Brent’s idea.”
“He’s cute,” Amy said. “What kind of dog is he?”
“No idea. Brent got him from a rescue league. He’s some kind of mutt.” Bastian started to push through the door again, but she gave him a fierce look, and he stopped. “Anyway, come in, come in! I’m so glad you’re here!”
She smiled and opened the door wider, and only then did she notice that Grace was on the front stoop, too. “Oh. Everyone’s here.”
“Hi, Emily,” Grace said.
Emily’s smile dimmed. “Grace,” she said after a beat.
Amy already felt guilty for her potential social engineering, but now she realized there was more to it than that. There was a palpable tension between Grace and Emily, a frostiness that instantly chilled the air around them. Did it have to do with the children? Or was it something else?
“I brought fruit salad!” Amy chimed in, trying to lighten the mood.
Emily tore her eyes from Grace and glanced at the bowl. “Yes, you did! Wow, that’s a lot of fruit. But then I remember you at the coffee shop the other day—you have quite the appetite!”
Amy flushed. That stupid muffin. “I just figured the kids might want some with lunch. Or as a snack.”
“Please—I would probably eat that whole bowl myself, left to my own devices. It’s perfect.” She ushered them inside.
“I brought Tim Tams,” Grace said, lifting the package from her tote.
“Tim . . . oh, right, those were the cookies Amy mentioned on the phone, right? I’m sure they’ll be huge hit with the kids. Speaking of which . . .” She peered over their shoulders. “Hi, Noah and Ethan. Jake is so excited to play with you! Hey, Jake?” She waited for a reply but didn’t hear anything. “I think he’s in the kitchen.”
The group moved into the kitchen, where Jake was half-naked, apparently in the process of changing into his bathing suit.
“Jake! What did I tell you about getting dressed in the kitchen? I don’t need your naked tush on the floor.”
The boys all started laughing. “She said tush,” Ethan giggled.
“Tush!” Jake called back.
“Butt!” Ethan said.
“Farts!”
“Boogies!”
The mothers all eyed each other. “Boys—enough,” Emily called out. “No potty talk outside of the bathroom.”
“But you said tush!” Jake protested.
“I said that because you are half naked in our kitchen, which I’ve told you a million times is not okay. Can you please put on your bathing suit—in the powder room, preferably?”
“Ohh-kay,” he said, and stomped off.
“Does either of your boys need to change?”
Amy had brought a bathing suit for Noah, but she noticed Ethan was already dressed for the pool.
“Noah needs to get his suit on,” Amy said.
His eyes shot up at her, and his smile disappeared. “But, Mommy . . .” he said in a loud whisper. “I don’t want to get in the pool.”
“We have a Slip’N Slide,” Emily offered, before Amy could reply.
He furrowed his brow, looking highly skeptical. “What’s that?”
“It’s like a long plastic carpet with sprinklers attached. You put it on the lawn and run, run, run and slide across it on your belly.”
His eyebrows pressed closer together. Amy knew her son, and this description did nothing to make the activity more appealing. “Maybe you watch the other guys try it a few times and then see what you think,” Amy said. “But first you need to get your suit on.”
“Mommy . . .”
Amy crouched down next to him. “Please? We came all the way here, and Ethan and Jake are both in their suits. You don’t even need to get wet. Just put it on.”
“Why do I need to put it on if I’m not going to get wet?”
“Just . . . because.” Amy was trying not to sound tense, especially in front of the other mothers, but she was struggling. Why was he suddenly being difficult again? Why couldn’t he just go with the flow?
Noah stomped his foot on the floor. “Fine,” he said. He grabbed the bag with the bathing suit out of her hands and stormed off to the room where he’d seen Jake go.
Emily smiled as she pulled some juice boxes from the refrigerator. “Are we having fun yet?”
* * *
For the next thirty minutes, Noah sat on a pool chair watching the other boys play on the Slip’N Slide. Amy thought she’d gotten in a time machine and traveled back to their life in DC: other kids playing while Noah stood on the periphery, observing and showing no interest in joining in. What happened? He’d made such progress. Emily called them the Three Musketeers! This looked more like the two musketeers and their mute, simple cousin.
“Noah, sweetie, don’t you want to join the other kids?” Amy whispered, once the half hour mark had passed.
He shook his head.
“You don’t have to get wet. You could just . . . kick a ball around or . . . I don’t know. Suggest another game.”
He shrugged. “In five minutes.”
Amy knew he still didn’t have a very good grasp of time, but she was too tired and frustrated to argue. “Okay,” she said, and made her way back inside with Emily and Grace, whom she’d left alone.
When she returned, Grace and Emily were talking, and watching the kids through the window. The two barely made eye contact, even as they chatted about such inoffensive topics as summer vacation and paint colors.
“It’s been this color for a while,” Emily was saying as Grace ran her hand up and down the kitchen wall.
“It can’t have been that long . . .”
“About a year.”
“Oh. Has it been . . . I guess it has.”
The silence lingered as Grace let her hand slip down the wall, her eyes wandering around the kitchen and into the living room. Amy cleared her throat.
“It’s a really pretty color,” she said, trying to ease the tension. It was a pretty color—a faint celadon that highlighted the veining in the granite countertops. “Did you guys redo this kitchen, or was it like this when you bought the house?”
“We redid it. You should have seen the original—it was a mess.”
“I remember,” Grace said. “That stove with the electric coil burners? The whole thing was rusted.”
“Ugh, it was terrible.” She flashed Grace a subdued smile. “Anyway, we fixed it up shortly after we moved in. I couldn’t deal.”
Before they could say anything further on the matter, the boys came tearing into the house. “MINIONS!!!” they shouted as they started speaking in gibberish and chasing each other around the family room. Amy was relieved to see Noah had joined in.
“Freaking Minions,” Emily said as she watched them run around her sectional. “I mean, they’re little and yellow and cute, but honestly, I don’t get the appeal.”
“The fact that adults don’t get it probably is the appeal,” Amy offered.
“Probably. But I swear, if I have to spend one more meal listening to Jake go, ‘Bakayarou! Bee-doh, bee-doh!’ I’m going to shoot someone.”
Amy laughed. “Sing it, sister.”
Grace laughed, too, though a little uncomfortably, which made Amy feel as if she were elbowing her way into someone else’s friendship. Except she wasn’t. In all of their conversations about camp and school, Grace had never once mentioned Emily, and she obviously hadn’t visited her house in more than a year. What did any of that have to do with Amy? Nothing.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Jake whined as he came back into the kitchen.
“Then let’s eat! PB&J okay with everyone?”
Noa
h hurried into the room. “Peanut butter is nuts, right?”
“Technically it’s a legume,” Grace said. “Don’t worry: Ethan can have peanut butter.”
“Oh, right, of course.” Emily flushed. “I didn’t even . . . I forgot.”
“It’s fine. Let me just double-check the peanut butter jar.” She skimmed the ingredients and nodded. “All good.”
Emily threw together the sandwiches, and the boys changed into dry clothes and sat around the table. Noah didn’t actually need to change, considering he didn’t get within ten feet of the Slip’N Slide, but he changed anyway. He seemed to have gotten back into the groove and was playing nicely with the other boys, though Amy did notice Ethan and Jake seemed more connected. Or was that just her imagination? She hated the impulse to jump in and make every social situation perfect for her kid, and she fought it with every ounce of her being, but gosh it was hard. Would she have wanted Ellen to jump in and fix her own social problems growing up? Definitely not. There was nothing she could have done, and if anything, her mother’s meddling would only have made things worse. Still, the urge was there, and she had to make a concerted effort to control it.
“So, Emily . . . you wouldn’t happen to have any coffee lying around, would you?” Grace asked.
“I think there’s some left over from breakfast . . .” She glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe a mug or two?”
“That should be enough. You ladies up for a Tim Tam Slam?”
“A what?”
“I’ll show you.”
Emily poured the remains in the coffeepot into two mugs and heated them up in the microwave. She added a splash of milk to both and pushed them across the counter toward Grace, who had retrieved the package of Tim Tams from her tote bag.
“Okay. Here’s how it goes. Bite off pieces from opposite corners like this. Then you dunk it into the coffee like a straw and suck, suck, suck as hard as you can. . . .”
“That sounds a little dirty,” Emily said in a lowered voice. “You sure this is PG with the kids around?”
“It’s fine. Watch.” Grace stuck the cookie into the coffee, then sucked through it for a few seconds before shoving the whole thing in her mouth.
“Wait, did you just eat the whole thing?”
She nodded as she raised an eyebrow and smirked. There was a little bit of fudge along the corners of her mouth, and she looked a little like a squirrel with her mouth completely stuffed. The whole exercise seemed totally out of character for Grace, or at least what Amy thought she knew of her. The woman Amy knew was chic and subdued and fairly private. She wasn’t the kind of person who shoveled chocolate cookies into her mouth. But there was a girlish mischief in her eyes as she swallowed the Tim Tam and washed it down with a little more coffee.
“Either of you want to try?”
Emily and Amy looked at each other and shrugged. “Why not?” Amy said.
They followed Grace’s lead, and after many seconds of sucking, Amy felt the interior of the cookie begin to soften and collapse. Panicked, she looked to Grace for guidance, but Grace just said, “Shove it in! Shove it in!”
Amy did, but as she pushed it into her mouth, she managed to smear a huge glob of fudge all over her lower lip and chin. Emily started laughing hysterically as she did the same, and the three of them were giggling like old friends. Amy had to admit, it felt nice.
“See, what did I tell you? Amazing, right?”
“Pretty good,” Amy admitted.
Emily burst out laughing again. “I’m sorry. Your teeth—you look like you’re missing at least three.”
Amy licked her teeth. The fudge was stuck on like mortar. “Oh, jeez.”
Grace and Emily laughed as she downed some of the coffee.
“Yours aren’t much better,” she said, pointing to the two of them.
“Still?” Grace said. “Oh, boy. Okay, I have to go to the bathroom anyway. Back in a second.”
She excused herself to the powder room.
“Mommy, what are you eating?” Noah asked.
“Nothing. Just . . . eat your peanut butter. And your fruit. You can have a cookie when you’re finished.”
The boys’ eyes lit up. “COOKIES!!!” they shouted.
“Sandwich and fruit first,” Emily said.
The boys agreed begrudgingly and returned to their lunch. Amy took another sip of coffee and blotted the corners of her mouth with a paper towel.
“Wow, I haven’t laughed like that in a while,” she said.
“Me either.”
“I’m glad we did this. Not the slam—that was fun, too. But I mean all of us hanging out. It makes me feel more settled. Like I’m finally meeting nice people here.”
“Aw, good, I’m glad.” Her eyes quickly flitted to the hallway. She lowered her voice. “Just . . . be careful with that one. Everything isn’t what it seems.”
Amy opened her mouth to respond—was she talking about Julian’s problems, or something else?—but Grace returned before she could say a word.
* * *
That night while Amy and Rob were making dinner, her friend Jess called. Amy and Jess had met at Georgetown during their freshman year and ended up living together for the next three. Amy had always seen college as an opportunity to reboot her social life, and Georgetown proved her right. All of her bookishness and precociousness had caught up with her sometime around middle school, and she soon became persona non grata among the cliquish girls in her class. In middle school, she was actively left out of birthday parties and sleepovers, and by high school no one even thought to invite her in the first place. She pretended not to care (“I’m too busy studying and trying to get into college anyway.”), but she did, and she couldn’t wait to flee Rhode Island and leave her social reputation behind.
When she arrived in Washington, she couldn’t believe her luck. Everyone she met was smart and interesting and engaged. These were her people. She supposed some of them may have struggled socially like she did, and others almost certainly didn’t, but it didn’t matter. They were all in the same boat—young, intelligent people looking to learn new things and make new friends. Her past didn’t matter, at least not to anyone there. This was before the advent of social media, which allowed your youth to haunt you like a ghost. Amy could wipe the slate clean simply by being herself with a new set of people. It was empowering.
She and Jess hit it off immediately. They were in the same section for their political science lecture, and Amy had barely introduced herself when Jess invited her to a party that night in her dorm. Amy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been actively invited to something. She went and had the most fun she’d had in years, and from then on she and Jess were nearly inseparable.
Jess was exactly the sort of friend Amy could have used in Woonsocket. She was pretty and bubbly, and a good time seemed to follow her wherever she went. But she was smart, too—smarter than Amy—and loved a good debate. Around her, Amy didn’t have to worry that her interest or knowledge of a subject would make her seem like a know-it-all. Jess would either be genuinely delighted to learn something new, or would counter her with a more nuanced view. She introduced Amy to all of the people on her debate team, roped her into numerous social clubs, and generally broadened Amy’s social circle beyond anything she could have imagined. By the time they graduated, Amy’s social confidence had exploded, and she knew a lot of that was down to Jess.
Amy had stayed on in Washington after graduation, but Jess had moved to Durham, North Carolina, for law school and after a bunch of moves had settled with her husband and two kids in Seattle. They kept in touch, but the physical distance combined with the kids meant they didn’t do so as often as either of them would like.
“Helloooooo, my long-lost friend,” Jess crowed into the phone when Amy picked up. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“Anytime I get to talk to you is a good time. We’re making dinner, but Rob hasn’t even put the pork chops on yet, so I have a few minutes.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, duh, it’s dinnertime on the east coast. You’d think I’d have gotten used to the time change after living out here for five years, but no. Can you imagine how much more we’d talk if we lived in the same time zone?”
“Probably not that much more. The kids are the real problem.”
“I know. My sister’s kids are, like, eight and ten, and she promises me it gets easier, but I’m not so sure. Like, at least when they’re really little they still nap. That’s why I can call you now. Penny is sleeping, and Dave is out with Zander—allegedly on a hike, but I heard something about ice cream, so who knows.”
“How is everyone? I feel like we haven’t caught up in ages.”
“We’re good. Zander starts kindergarten in a few weeks, and Penny is off to preschool. I kind of can’t believe it. I swear I just brought Zander home from the hospital two days ago.”
“Right? That’s how I feel. It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen him in person since he was like a year old.”
“Another problem of living on opposite sides of the country. So what about you guys? How’s the new house? Are you finally feeling settled?”
“Pretty much. Rob’s job is going well. The house is coming together. In a total shock, Noah is making friends left and right.”
“That’s great! You always sounded down about his social life in DC.”
“This is definitely an improvement. I’m really happy for him.”
“What about your social life? Have you connected with anyone in your neighborhood?”
“Yeah, sort of. Believe it or not, I actually befriended the woman who sold us our house.”
“Interesting. How’s that going?”
“Pretty well. Noah is, like, best friends with her son, so we see a fair amount of them. I mean, she and I aren’t close like you and I are, but we’re friendly.”
“Well, no one could be as close as you and I are.”
“Obviously.”
They both laughed, and Amy wondered how it was possible to be closer with a person she hadn’t seen face-to-face in several years than with a person who was relevant to her everyday life right now. The truth was, at certain specific moments, she did feel closer to Grace than Jess—when they were talking about something that had happened at camp, or were caught up in the moment of a playdate. But there was a difference between her friendship with Grace—and even her budding friendship with Emily—and the years-long friendship she’d had with Jess. When she spoke to Jess, she was completely relaxed. It was like talking to a sister, someone who had seen her at her best and worst, who had stumbled home with her after a night of too much drinking on M Street or had comforted her after a boyfriend broke up with her. Sometimes Amy wondered if it was possible to make adult friends who would ever know her as completely as her college friends did, especially Jess. There was just so much history with those people, which meant you didn’t always need to explain yourself. Then again, sometimes that history got in the way. Amy knew she’d changed since college, and she knew Jess had, too, and yet on some level she knew they both still thought of each other the way they were more than a decade ago.
The Last House on Sycamore Street Page 14