She started to close the door, but he reached out with his thick hand and stopped her.
“So you haven’t seen him since you moved then?”
“No . . . like I said, we bought the house from him. That’s it.”
He looked over her shoulder and cast his eyes on the console in her hallway. “Looks like you know something about Food Fight.”
Amy followed his gaze to the stack of Food Fight brochures sitting on the console in the foyer. Crap, she thought. Why did I leave those there?
“What about them?”
“So you haven’t seen Julian, but you have a big stack of brochures about his company.”
“Is that . . . Julian runs Food Fight?”
Amy’s mouth was running faster than her brain at this point, but she didn’t know how to get herself out of this, and she was desperate for this man to leave.
“Don’t bullshit me, lady.”
“I’m not . . . like I said, we just happen to have bought his house. And I volunteered to distribute some flyers and stuff for a friend of mine. I didn’t realize there was a connection to the former owners of this place.”
“What friend?”
“Sorry?”
“What friend asked you to distribute those brochures?”
“Emily . . . ?”
“Emily what?”
Amy’s eyes darted nervously around the neighborhood. Was anyone home? Could anyone see her? Would they hear her cries for help?
“I don’t . . . listen, I’m getting a little uncomfortable. I’ve helped you as best as I can, and now if you don’t leave, I’m going to have to call the police.”
“That would be a mistake.”
She swallowed as she pulled out her phone. “Sir, I will ask you one more time. Please leave.”
“Hey, listen—put that away. I’m outta here. Have a good day.”
“Thank you.”
He narrowed his eyes as he cracked his knuckles. “But you tell my friend Julian that Lev is looking for him, and he wants his money.”
Then he turned around, walked down the front path, and disappeared down Sycamore Street.
Chapter 18
When she told Rob about the incident that night, he went ballistic and threatened to call the police.
“Please don’t do that. Please?”
“Oh, so it’s totally fine to have hitmen coming to our door?”
“He wasn’t a hitman.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that’s ridiculous.”
“What, that the former drug addict with serious debts who lived in our house might have interacted with some dodgy people who might now be after him?”
“He just owes the guy some money.”
“Okay. But you know what? Legitimate businessmen who lend money don’t show up at people’s houses and threaten the new owners.”
“I just don’t see how calling the police is going to do anything. He didn’t actually do anything to me. And I don’t have any information on him, other than his name, which might not even be his real name.”
“Listen, I’m just trying to protect our family. Who are you trying to protect?”
The truth was, Amy wasn’t exactly sure. Obviously she wanted to shield her own family from harm—obviously! But when she really thought about it, she realized part of her wanted to keep the Durants safe as well. Why? She supposed part of it had to do with Ethan and Noah’s friendship. Their connection was clearly something special, and she felt very protective of it. Exposing Julian’s past to the police would no doubt make life for Ethan a lot more complicated. And then there was Grace. There was no reason for Amy to feel more drawn to Grace than she did to, say, Emily, but she did. Part of that was due to their children’s friendship, and part of that was due to Grace’s inherent cool, but whatever the case, Grace had cast a sort of spell over Amy. She didn’t want to stir up trouble before she’d even told Grace what was going on.
“Our family comes first,” Amy said. “But let me talk to Grace or Julian. This is their problem, and they should handle it. Okay?”
He sighed. “Fine. But tell her Julian’s ‘friends’ need to back off, or I’m going to the cops. I don’t care what he got up to in the past, but if it puts me and my family at risk, that’s a problem.”
“Agreed. I’m on it.”
That ended up being only sort of true. She hoped to bring up the subject with Julian the next time he called about a fund-raiser–related task, but in the two weeks that followed, all requests and tasks went through Grace. Amy decided she’d take up the issue of Lev with her instead, though she was still struggling with how, exactly, she would to do that.
In the end, she resolved to bring it up in person, rather than over the phone. Later that week, when she picked up Noah from school, he begged to play football with Ethan on the playground, and she agreed, figuring it would be a good opportunity for her and Grace to chat. She and Grace found a spot next to each other on a bench while the boys chased each other.
“I know nothing about football, but . . . I don’t think that’s how it’s played,” Grace said.
Amy laughed. “Doesn’t matter to me, since this is the closest he’ll ever get to the sport.”
“True that.” She leaned back against the bench and sighed. “So when do your friends arrive?”
“Next Friday.”
“Nice. You excited to see them?”
“Very. I haven’t seen Jess since Noah was a baby. We’re way overdue.”
“You guys will have fun. And hopefully they won’t be too bored at the fund-raiser.”
“They’ll love it. Speaking of the event, how are you guys feeling? Is Julian ready?”
“I think so? I never know with him. He can be very hard to read.”
“He’s probably a little nervous. I mean, jeez, I’m a little nervous, and I only helped with odds and ends.”
“You did more than that. Honestly, I’m not sure he could have pulled this off without your help. He owes you big-time. We both do.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I was just trying to help a friend.”
“Well, thanks. We really appreciate it. Julian tends not to be as vociferous with his praise, but he’s really grateful, too.”
“Speaking of Julian, I’ve been meaning to mention . . .”
Amy played with the hem of her jacket. Why the sudden hesitation? She supposed it was because Grace would almost certainly not be happy to hear what she had to say, and Amy hated being the bearer of bad news.
“Yes?” Grace said, her eyebrow raised. Amy realized her pause had lasted a beat too long.
“I had a run-in with an acquaintance of his last week.”
“Of Julian’s? Who?”
“Someone named Lev?”
Grace frowned. “Never heard of him. How did he say he knew Julian?”
“He didn’t, exactly. He just said he was a friend.” His demeanor indicated he wasn’t actually a friend of Julian’s at all, but Amy didn’t want to alarm her just yet.
“Huh. Are you sure it was Lev? I know he’s friends with a Leonard. I thought he went by Lenny, but maybe he’s going by Len these days.”
“Maybe? What does he look like?”
“Lenny? He’s tall, thin, curly brown hair. Kind of geeky looking, but a real sweetheart.”
“No, that’s not him. I’m pretty sure he said Lev.”
“Weird. He’s probably someone from work. Where did you meet him?”
Amy swallowed. “At the house, actually.”
“One twenty Sycamore? What was he doing there?”
“He stopped by looking for Julian. He didn’t seem to know you’d moved.”
Grace’s expression cooled. “Did he say why he was looking for Julian?”
“He said . . . well, he seemed to suggest that Julian owed him some money.” Amy’s cheeks flushed. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she was embarrassed for Grace that her husband was in this position.
“Money? How
much?”
“He didn’t say. It must be a fair amount.”
“No, that isn’t possible. Julian has paid back all his debts.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. “This guy was pretty pushy. I feel like he wouldn’t have been so pushy if it wasn’t a lot.”
“So you think Julian is lying to me?”
“No, I didn’t—I’m not saying that.”
“What other explanation could there be?”
“I don’t know . . . Maybe there is some kind of misunderstanding.”
Grace looked across the playground, her knee bouncing furiously up and down as she tapped her heel on the ground. “Yeah. Maybe.”
She didn’t sound convinced, though, and despite her attempts at reassurance, Amy wasn’t either.
* * *
The following Friday, billboards flew by as Amy cruised down the highway. Jess’s flight landed around 4:30, and she couldn’t wait. She’d managed to pick up Noah and escape without a request to play on the playground, which seemed like a small miracle. The weather was unseasonably warm, and on any other day, he would have wanted to hang out for hours. But Grace had already picked up Ethan before she arrived, so he was less inclined to stay without his BFF.
“Mommyyyyy, when are we going to be there?”
“Soon, sweetie. Only a few more miles.”
She hadn’t spoken to Grace in the week since the conversation about Lev. They’d e-mailed and texted, but only about event-related issues, and Amy never felt right bringing it up. She’d told Grace about it, and there wasn’t much more she could do, at least for now. But she couldn’t help but wonder what Grace had said to Julian about it. It seemed like such a jarring secret to learn your spouse was keeping.
It’s not that she and Rob didn’t have secrets. Every couple did. But they were minor secrets, like when she bought and hid a jar of Nutella so that Rob wouldn’t finish it all, or when Rob claimed he was going upstairs to do work but she discovered he had fallen asleep watching ESPN. They didn’t keep major secrets from each other, ones involving money and loan sharks and drug addiction. She was actually impressed that Grace and Julian had lasted through his addiction and recovery. Many couples didn’t.
Eventually she came to the exit for the airport. She glanced down at her phone. She had a text from Jess:
At arrivals. Standing near “yield to pedestrians” sign.
Amy followed the exit toward Arrivals, and as she came around the bend, she spotted Jess. She was wearing a bright red wool coat, her wavy brown hair tucked beneath a cream knit cap. Amy flashed her headlights, and Jess beamed and waved. She elbowed Dave and pointed. He smiled and waved as well, though he looked exhausted.
“Who are you waving at?” Noah asked.
“See the woman in the red coat? That’s Mommy’s friend Jess.”
“Auntie Jess,” he corrected her. He was at that awkward stage where it wasn’t really appropriate for him to call adults by their first names, so she and Rob were regularly correcting him to call people “Mr.” and “Mrs.” or, in the case of a close friend like Jess, “Aunt” or “Auntie.” He somehow hadn’t yet grasped that the rules did not always apply to her and Rob. She had tried to explain that some rules only applied to kids, but either he willfully refused to grasp that concept or it was developmentally beyond his reach.
She pulled the car next to the curb and popped the trunk. Dave piled their suitcases inside as Jess hopped into the front seat. She and Amy let out happy squeals and hugged each other tight.
“It is so good to see you!” Jess cried. She pulled away and looked Amy in the eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“I’m pretty sure I have a few more crow’s-feet and gray hairs than the last time you saw me.”
“Where? I see nothing but glowing youth. Me, on the other hand . . .”
“Please. You haven’t changed either. You look great.”
She did. She had the same bright, smiling face Amy had encountered their freshman year at Georgetown. She had a few wrinkles now, but didn’t they all? In Jess’s case, she had two little kids at home. Amy was impressed that she didn’t look like a ghost of her former self. That’s how Amy felt sometimes, and she only had Noah.
Dave closed the trunk and got in the back seat next to Noah. “Hey, Noah—nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand. Noah smiled and shook it. Amy could tell he felt very grown-up. “Cool shoes.”
Noah looked down at his sneakers—metallic and neon ones that Amy thought were a little too bright, but that Noah had insisted on buying. “Thank you. Mommy says they’re a little flashy.”
They all laughed. “Hey, I like flashy,” Dave said.
Noah smiled again. “Did you know that tomorrow my friend Ethan is coming over for six hours?”
Dave raised his eyebrows. “No way!”
“Uh-huh. And my Bubbe and Zayde are coming, and they always bring me treats. Bubbe is a very talented baker.”
Dave chuckled. “Is she? You, my friend, have an excellent vocabulary.”
Noah flashed a self-satisfied look. “Thank you.”
Amy put the car in gear and carefully navigated her way out of the airport. Soon, she was on 95 again, though the traffic was noticeably worse than on the way there. She looked at the clock: It was approaching rush hour. Hopefully they’d beat the worst of it.
“So tell me more about this party tomorrow,” Jess said.
“It’s a fund-raiser for a nonprofit run by the guy who used to own our house.”
“What kind of nonprofit?”
“He tries to improve access to healthy food in poor neighborhoods. The group is called Food Fight.”
“Cute name. So Rob’s company is sponsoring it?”
“Yeah, although Rob hasn’t really had much involvement. It’s not his department. Frankly, I’ve had more involvement than he has. I offered to help with a few odds and ends, and the work sort of . . . snowballed.”
“No, really?” Jess feigned shock. She knew Amy too well.
Amy smacked her playfully in the arm. “Hey now.”
“What can I say? The old ones are the old ones.” Jess grinned. “So there will be MediaCom people there other than Rob, right?”
“Yeah, I think there’s an entire table.” Amy shot her a sideways glance. “Why, you thinking of ditching us for a better group?”
“Psh, are you kidding? Like I’d fly across the country to dine with a bunch of corporate nincompoops. I can do that in Seattle, thanks.”
“I’ll be interested to hear what you think of Julian and Grace.”
“They’re the couple who sold the house?”
“Yeah, sorry—Julian and Grace Durant.”
“Wait, Julian Durant?” Dave chimed in from the back seat. “Do you know where he went to college?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“I went to UNC with a guy named Julian Durant. We weren’t tight, but I know the name.”
“Maybe? I guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”
“For sure. If it’s the same guy, he was pretty well-liked around school. Social butterfly type.”
“That fits. He’s definitely very charismatic.”
“Athletic, too. I think he played on the soccer team for a while.”
“I don’t know how active Julian is these days—assuming it’s the same guy. I think he had an injury.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s a shame. What happened?”
Amy glanced in the rearview mirror. Noah didn’t seem to be paying attention and was watching the cars pass, but Amy knew it wasn’t appropriate to bring up Julian’s issue with painkillers, regardless of whether Noah was there or not.
“I’m not sure,” she finally said. “You’ll have to ask him tomorrow.”
* * *
By the time they got home, Noah had fallen asleep in the back seat, and Dave looked like he was about to as well. Since Sherrie and Bruce were babysitting the following evening, Amy didn’t feel right sticking Noah with a babysitter two nights in
a row, so she’d planned on a low-key dinner at home after Noah went to sleep. It wouldn’t be the wild night on the town she’d envisioned when she first invited Jess, but these days, a quiet, home-cooked meal was more her speed anyway.
She prodded Noah awake and led the group inside, showing Jess and Dave to the guest room upstairs.
“The house is great,” Jess said. “I can see why you fell in love with it. It’s so cozy. I mean that in a good way—not like it’s too small or something.”
“It does have a warm feeling, right?”
“The whole neighborhood does. Two thumbs up.”
Amy didn’t need a friend’s approval to feel confident in her choice of domicile, but she had to admit, getting Jess’s endorsement felt good. Jess had always had excellent taste in art and design, and in college Amy often looked to her for style advice. Given Grace’s artistic flair and the traces of it she’d left behind, it made sense that Jess would feel a connection with 120 Sycamore. Frankly, some days Grace reminded her a little of Jess. Maybe that was another reason she felt so drawn to her.
Jess and Dave unpacked while Amy cooked Noah’s nuggets and green beans; then they met in the kitchen for wine and cheese while Noah ate. Rob came in just as they’d poured the second glass of Pinot Noir.
“You made it,” he said, smiling as he shook Dave’s hand and gave Jess a hug. Amy had always loved how seamlessly Rob blended in with her friends, as if they’d been his friends for as long as they’d been hers.
“Noah was just telling us all about poisonous frogs,” Jess said.
“Ah, yes, a favorite pastime.”
Jess and Dave laughed. “He knows way more than I ever did about them, I’ll tell you that,” Dave said.
“He knows more than I do about a lot of things,” said Rob. “That may be more a reflection on my memory and education than anything else, but nevertheless.”
“Hey, Noah, sweetie? Finish up your nuggets and then Daddy will take you up for bath.”
“But I want dessert.”
Amy sighed. “Fine. One piece of chocolate and then it’s bath time.”
“Can Dave come, too?”
The Last House on Sycamore Street Page 22