4152 Witchwood Lane

by Katie Winters

  Mila hadn’t considered that her twins worried about her as much as she worried about them. Her heart cracked open like an egg.

  “You shouldn’t worry about me.”

  “Well, we do. Nobody guessed that Dad would—” Isabelle paused.

  “Nobody guesses anything about life. It just kind of happens,” Mila murmured softly.

  “But I just want you to know, Zane and I really do want the best for you. Even if — like today, for example, we don’t always show it,” Isabelle told her. “We’re always here for you, Mom and if you need us for anything, we’ll be on the next ferry back home to help you in any way possible. That’s a promise.”

  Mila nodded, then flashed her daughter a heartfelt smile. “And I want you to know that your father would be so, so proud of you.”

  Tears sprung again to Isabelle’s eyes. “I don’t know. He always wanted me to go to Penn State like him.”

  Mila laughed. “No. He always just wanted you to march to the beat of your own drum— nothing else.”

  Isabelle took another bite of garlic bread. “What do you think he would say about a twenty-something-year-old guy flirting with you?”

  Mila’s grin widened. “He would ask me, ‘Who are you kidding, Mila?’ and then he would wink in that way he always did. He would tease me about it endlessly and ask me if I needed to hire a babysitter so I could go out at night.”

  Isabelle cackled. “He really would have.”

  “Your father had an excellent sense of humor. And for many years, that’s what I leaned on for so much of my happiness,” Mila said. “When he died, I stopped laughing for a very long time.”

  “We all did,” Isabelle said softly.

  The song on the stereo shifted. It was an old nineties song — Fastball’s “The Way.” Isabelle and Mila locked eyes as they sang the lyrics.

  “Where were they going without ever knowing the way?” they sang.

  It was about a couple who had agreed to run away from their lives and take on a world of constant summer, where they’d never get cold or hungry or old and grey. It was idyllic and it was tremendously sad. Mila could feel her tears run down her cheeks as they continued to sing. If she tricked her ears just so, she could half-imagine Peter’s voice joining theirs. Probably, Isabelle would have said, “Dad, you’re a horrible singer,” and he would have agreed and continued singing.

  “I think I’m going to like Tufts, Mom,” Isabelle confessed after the song finished. “But you have to promise me that whenever you need me, you’ll call me. I’m really not so far from home.”

  Mila’s grin widened. “Whenever I need you?”

  “Yep. We can switch now. You don’t have to do all the caring for me. I can pick up the slack now and again,” Isabelle told her. “It’s the natural course of things, anyway. Don’t you think?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The following week, Mila lifted the broom from the far closet and began to sweep up the salon. It was nearly five-fifteen, and only one other client remained — a sixty-year-old woman with grizzled grey curls and a fanatical love for whatever technique Sasha now performed on her face. “You always make me look so pretty, Sasha,” the woman praised as she leafed for her wallet. When Mila glanced up, she noticed that the woman’s face was still red as a tomato. This would calm down soon, Mila knew. But despite this, the woman entered the world with a pride Mila wished she could match.

  Then another woman entered the salon a moment later. This woman was also sixty-something and she wore a furrowed brow and a violent gaze. It was Diana, and she was dressed smartly, in a cream-colored sweater and a pair of slacks. She looked as though she’d spent the previous hours at the golf club, which was her way post-medical career.

  “Mila,” she said as she stood in the foyer with her arms crossed.

  Sasha scampered into the back to take inventory. Mila grumbled, placed her broom against the wall, and stepped toward the front desk. “Hello, Mom.”

  “We haven’t heard from you since our dinner last week,” Diana said.

  “We’ve been pretty busy. Isabelle had her orientation, and Zane has his in a few days.”

  “I know that. Don’t you think I know that?” Diana demanded as she stared her daughter down.

  Mila gave a half shrug. “I don’t know, Mom. You seemed pretty keen on keeping up with Aria’s medical career. I just figured you weren’t as interested since Isabelle might follow her heart and become a drummer.”

  “A drummer?” Diana’s eyes bugged out with alarm.

  Mila rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter. “I’m kidding, Mom.”

  “Goodness. Why would you kid about something like that?”

  “I don’t know. Because it freaked you out, I guess.” Mila swallowed. She was grateful she still had some form of a sense of humor, even as her mother made her volatile. “Can I help you with something? We’re going to close up soon.”

  Diana lifted her chin regally. “I wanted to ask you how you were. I heard a dreadful rumor that Amelia is on bed rest.”

  “Well, the rumor is true, Mom.”

  “That’s awful. And it all happened while Olivia tried to open up her little boutique hotel?”

  “The very same night.”

  Again, the silence fell between them. Diana arched an eyebrow.

  “You can tell me things like this, you know. These girls— your sisters, I feel as though they were my daughters, too. You six were always running in and out of the house. I couldn’t keep up with you. None of the mothers could.”

  Diana’s eyes darkened. Mila could practically feel Michelle’s name curl between them, although Diana made no motion to actually say it.

  “Has Isabelle made any decisions about her major?” Diana asked then.

  Mila shook her head. “She wants to explore that first year. I already told you that.”

  “I just don’t think it’s good to flounder at all when you’re at university,” Diana returned. “It’s a whole year of tuition.”

  “Yes, well, Isabelle is taking out loans and has a pretty good scholarship.”

  Diana stepped toward the desk. She splayed her hands out on the counter. Her nails were absolutely stunning, cream-colored like the rest of her outfit. “Your father and I have discussed that we would really like to help with Isabelle’s schooling. But only if she considers giving the medical field a try.”

  Mila could hardly believe her ears. She jumped back from the desk as though it was on fire. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Mila. We know how capable that girl is. She’s just as capable as you are, but you — well. You know what you did.”

  Mila splayed her hands out on either side of her and gestured toward the immaculate salon, her pride and joy. “My God! Look around, will you. I’m pretty sure I did all right for myself, Mom.”

  Diana scoffed. “Just think about it, okay? Tell Isabelle.”

  “And what about Zane, huh? I’m supposed to just say, hey, Izzy! Your grandparents will pay for your tuition. But no, Zane, your grandparents don’t believe you’re up to snuff. Does that sound about right?”

  Diana scoffed at her daughters’ words, then adjusted her purse. Mila remembered when Diana had purchased the thing; it had been upwards of three thousand dollars.

  “Just think about it,” Diana said again. “I’ll see myself out.”

  “You do that. Good thing you can find the door,” Mila cried, just as Diana ducked out the glass door and hustled back to her BMW.

  Mila grumbled to herself as she turned back to find Sasha in the doorway between the back supply room and the greater salon. Sasha’s eyes were filled with pity — something Mila hated all the more.

  “You can head out for the night, Sash,” Mila told her. “Good job today.”

  “Are you sure? Because I can stay for a bit longer if you like.”

  “No, please. Have a good night.” Sasha had a new baby at home, so Mila hated keeping her late.


  Sasha left with reluctance in her eyes. Mila latched the door closed and dimmed the lights. When she checked her phone, she received messages from both Zane and Isabelle. Both said they planned to be out for the night.

  Which made Mila spiral.

  The empty-nester situation was headed straight for her. In the wake of her children’s absence, she would be left with the wreckage of her relationship with her parents and not a whole lot else. Well, of course, she always had her best friends. But it felt increasingly like they had moved forward without her.

  What was left for Mila? What? And would she be brave enough to grab it when it came toward her if it ever did? At that moment, she felt so alone and wishing Peter was by her side.

  Mila decided to give herself a facial. She wasn’t ready to head home anytime soon. She was exhausted, and the last time she’d glanced in the mirror, she had seriously marveled why that Gavin guy had given her a second look. Maybe he needed glasses.

  Mila began to prepare the ingredients for the facial. She lit candles and set up her stereo to play soft, soothing music. She cleansed her cheeks and then steamed her face, focusing on her breathing as she went along. Occasionally, thoughts would rise up from the back alleys of her mind and threaten to take her down a dark path, but she forced those thoughts away and continued on.

  Soon, she began to massage a full-blown mask across her cheeks and her forehead. She felt totally focused; her mother’s words were a million miles away from her. She was just a woman, caring for herself the way a woman was meant to. Self-care was the key. Mila had told her friends this, over and over again, through divorce and babies and trauma and every other event that they went through. She had to give that sort of medicinal self-talk to herself every now and then.

  Suddenly, there was a dramatic rap at the glass door. Mila jumped from the chair and drew herself toward the sound. There, stationed on the other side of the glass, was a police officer. And the man wasn’t just any police officer. It was Liam, the man who had driven her home after her horrific first date.

  “Shoot. Shoot, shoot.” Mila glanced at herself in the mirror. The mask hadn’t yet hardened, and it was much too soon for her to remove it. She couldn’t very well remove it now either, as the process would take too long, and Liam had already seen her through the glass.

  “We’re closed!” she tried to call out.

  But Liam just knocked again. Mila reasoned she was too deep into the salon for him to fully see her face. She scrunched her nose and lifted her chin in the prideful fashion of Diana Ellis and walked up to the glass. When she appeared there, Liam jumped back. His eyes widened in surprise, proof that he’d now fully seen the extent of her mask. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Can I help you?” Mila asked as she opened the door. Her voice was jagged.

  It took a moment for Liam to answer. “I’m really sorry to interrupt.” The corners of his mouth quivered upward. He wanted to laugh but probably felt it was too unprofessional.

  In a sad way, Mila wanted to laugh, too. This was just her luck.

  “Well, you’re here now, aren’t you? Come in.” Mila drew open the door wider and extended her arm. Liam marched in. He looked totally out of place, surrounded by flickering candles. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the lilac scent.

  “I checked the website, and it said you’d still be open,” he explained then.

  “We closed a bit early today,” Mila replied. She maintained eye contact with him as a kind of aggressive tactic. What did it mean for a police officer like this to see her all masked up? Probably, he was terrified of it in a way, as men all were slightly terrified of women.

  The cop closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head as though he wanted to squelch a thought. Finally, he said, “Anyway. I wanted to come by and tell you we got that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “You know. The guy you went on that date with.”

  Mila heaved a sigh. Another embarrassment. Great.

  “Oh. You got him?”

  “We sure did. We finally found the car in an abandoned garage over in Chilmark. He was staying in a nearby cottage.”

  “Wow. How did you manage that?” Mila couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

  “We received a local tip,” Liam said.

  “Huh. So, who is the guy, really? If he’s not Graham from the Dating App.”

  The cop leaned against the front desk. He looked at her steadily. “Your husband was a well-respected writer in the literature community, wasn’t he?”

  Mila arched her eyebrow. “Those in the know respected him. Yes.” People like her parents, however, did not.

  “Well, it seems likely that this guy is a super fan of your husband’s,” Liam continued. “He had six of your husband’s books in the cabin. And we checked the vehicle he was driving. That Jag is featured in one of your husband’s books. Of course, you never drove something like that.”

  Mila’s heart had begun to beat strangely. It was like she couldn’t get enough oxygen. “What are you saying?”

  Liam’s cheeks were pale. “We just think he sought you out on purpose. But we don’t really know why.”

  Mila dropped into the chair behind her. Her legs felt like jello. “You have him in custody?”

  “We do.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Mila allowed silence to fill the room. Over the years, Peter had enjoyed very small amounts of success for his crime thrillers, but they had never seen much money for them. Rather, he’d been featured in various write-ups for best writers on the east coast and enjoyed a number of fan letters. He’d adored his work, and Mila had loved to read the wild thoughts of the inner darkness of his mind. “Is this really you?” she’d asked as she’d make one of his books dance across his desk.

  Now, that world had come back to bite her.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Mila tried again.

  Liam placed his hands on his hips, then on his thighs; he then crossed them. He looked a little nervous, to say the least. “He doesn’t seem entirely dangerous. Just a bit — erm — misguided.”

  “You don’t think he came here to put me or my family in any kind of danger?” Mila asked.

  “We can’t be totally sure, of course.”

  Mila clenched her eyes tight. She seriously couldn’t believe this. She longed for Peter to be there, to wrap his arms around her and whisper that everything would be all right. How had everything fallen so far off the rails?

  “I want to talk to him,” Mila said suddenly.

  Liam’s eyes widened. Mila had forgotten about her face mask and guaranteed she looked like some crazy lady asking for one last wish. She was sure the entire situation could have been ripped out of a bad horror novel.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes. I want to know why he did this,” Mila affirmed. “I need to know.”

  Liam nodded. “I guess I would feel the same way.”

  They held one another’s gaze for a long moment. Mila felt strange tension between them, although she wasn’t entirely sure what any of it meant. She then asked a sensitive question, one she couldn’t take back as soon as it was out of her lips.

  “Would you mind waiting here while I wash this off? I would love someone to follow me home until I can safely lock the doors behind me.”

  Liam lifted his chin. He looked as though he’d just been given one of the biggest responsibilities of his entire career. “Sure. Take your time, Mila. I’m off-duty right now, anyway.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Amelia’s front door was open. Mila sauntered through and hollered, “Hello!” to the waiting members of the sisterhood; however, only Camilla and Amelia were there. They’d agreed to have lunch the following afternoon. Mila had taken the day off, as she had found herself reeling with what Liam had told her about Graham. She needed moral support, but more than that, she needed a burger and fries.

  Mila lifted the plastic bag of fast food through the air and grinned at Amelia
and Camilla, both of whom sat upright in Amelia’s bed, side-by-side like teenaged girls. Mila was again reminded of all their long ago sleepovers.

  “Aren’t you two peas in a pod?” she commented with a smile.

  “Finally! We thought we were going to die of starvation,” Camilla said.

  Amelia’s grin widened. Camilla lifted from the bed and hustled around Mila to grab the plates. In the meantime, Amelia hurriedly grabbed her phone from the bedside table and began to type like her life depended on it.

  “I know what you’re doing, Amelia!” Camilla called from the kitchen.

  “I’m not!” Amelia called back.

  “What exactly?” Mila asked an eyebrow cocked in confusion.

  Amelia rolled her eyes as she finished her text. “Camilla says I’m not supposed to work so much. But it’s not my fault that everyone at the office is basically without a brain. I mean, my boss? He has never been able to handle anything up there by himself and when he put me on a leave of absence earlier this year, the place basically fell apart.”

  Camilla reappeared with the plates and glowered. “She texted someone, didn’t she?”

  “And I’m going to call my secretary. Now,” Amelia said, her eyes shining.

  “No!” Camilla cried as Amelia whipped her phone to her ear.

  Mila cackled and grabbed the plates from Camilla. She set each wrapped burger on a plate and added huge helpings of fries. She then grabbed the large tray and splayed it across the bed as Amelia fell into her strict work mode and instructed her secretary on what to do next.

  “If things fall apart on this deal, I swear, I’ll have Oliver wheel me down there tomorrow,” Amelia threatened as she placed a fry between her teeth.

  Camilla and Mila exchanged glances. Mila secretly loved it when Amelia acted like this. She was a confident career woman who would do anything to get her way. She supposed she liked it much more than when her mother displayed similar tactics, perhaps because Amelia was also about as soft as could be when she wanted to be.