Neither parent had asked how, if she’d been home all night, Roma had lost her phone. Whitney raised her palm and touched her husband’s face. She didn’t have to say a word.
-16-
Barton Hills Mamas
OAKLANDMAMA
Hi, Mamas! My hubby and I are moving from the Bay Area to Austin and I am wondering about your ’hood. Do you feel like it is safe? How is the elementary school? Parks & playgrounds? Is it as perfect as it seems??? I’m in LOVE with a house on Rae Dell Avenue!
CHARDONNAYISMYJAM
Welcome, Oakland Mama! Barton Hills is amazing but not so sure about safety…google “Barton Hills greenbelt dead body” for more. We are all pretty shaken up.
TESLALUVR
Anyone have any more info on this? I want to take the kids to Gus Fruh but not if there’s a murderer around. Joking! Sort of.
OAKLANDMAMA
OMG I am so sorry about this news. I’m sure it is a one-time event. Still, I think we will look at other neighborhoods. Thank you for your candor.
MARYKAYMOM
Harsh! We need to stick together, Barton Hills gang. Hit my web site for details of a neighborhood watch and party!
CHARDONNAYISMYJAM
It is a city, ladies, like it or not. I’m scared, too. Please post anything you hear. Please don’t let my property value go down!!!
QUEENYOGA
Now that we’re on the topic, I have been alarmed by two men sitting in a Cadillac Escalade by the Zilker Elementary tennis courts smoking pot. I called 911 but no one came! Appalling!
ORIGINAL78704
Ha! That could have been my dad—he just retired from his corporate law practice. He and his friends say there’s nothing better than getting high and watching tennis.
-17-
Annette
ANNETTE FELT SQUIRRELLY. SHE checked her watch—three hours until she would see her friends, and they could talk through what was happening. Thank goodness for Whitney and Liza: Inside their circle of three, she felt invincible. Ever since she had watched a nature documentary called Wild Animals of Yellowstone one night when she couldn’t sleep, Annette had thought of her friends as a pack of coyotes, keeping each other safe.
In all honesty, though, none of them had ever really been tested the way the coyotes were tested. They had no visible predators, no deprivation or subzero temperatures. And who was the alpha dog in their crew? Who was the beta, the second in command? Was Annette the omega, the weakest coyote, the one who’d be left behind?
Robert was physically the strongest of the boys. But where was Annette in the pecking order of mothers? She was easygoing, and had a wonderful family back at home in Laredo. Whitney seemed like the pack leader, Annette supposed. An outsider might think Annette was the omega, but then again, Liza’s blind adoration of Whitney （and financial instability） might put her below Annette.
Had they always been competitive, jockeying for position? In Annette’s memories, their coming together had been effortless. She could still remember the day she’d first joined Liza and Whitney for decaf lattes and cinnamon buns at Quack’s after prenatal yoga class, the two friends inviting her to come with them. Whitney and Liza looked up and smiled brightly when she entered the café, welcoming her.
“I got you a pastry,” said Whitney.
She could still taste the cinnamon, feel the warmth of being included.
The three women couldn’t stop talking…about their worries, preparations, where they wanted to live and raise the babies who were due in a few weeks. They were scared, vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since childhood and might never be again. Pregnancy and new motherhood cracked Annette open—had she not met Whitney and Liza during this time, before her defenses grew back like armor, she might have remained stalwartly alone, driving home to Laredo every weekend for support.
The women had moved over to Matt’s El Rancho for queso and chips and ended up sipping nonalcoholic beers and two-stepping, maneuvering their big bellies and laughing at the Broken Spoke dance hall. When she fell into bed at the end of the night, Annette knew that she had found the crew with whom she would travel the （metaphorical） seas of adulthood.
* * *
—
THE WEEK BEFORE, ANNETTE had been sitting on her upper deck when she’d glimpsed something moving by the edge of her yard—an animal. Their upper deck was enormous, with a gas fire pit and bird’s-eye views over their lawn, which ran into the Barton Hills greenbelt. Louis had long argued for a big fence, but Annette liked feeling as if she were connected to nature, not walled off. For once, she had gotten her way, if only because Louis was lazy and erecting a fence would take effort.
Annette had stood up and squinted. The animal looked like a small dog. It was brown and gray, with large ears and a pointed snout. Its tail was large and bushy. Annette put her hand over her mouth, realizing it was a coyote.
An electric shock ran through her. A coyote! In her own yard! Annette stood at the edge of her deck, placing her elbows on the metal guardrail. She sipped her coffee, gazing at the wild animal. Look at me, coyote, she thought.
As if hearing her, the animal turned its head up, locked its yellow eyes with Annette’s. She felt thrilled. The coyote turned and ran away, disappearing into the wilderness of the greenbelt.
The next morning, at dawn, Annette put turkey leftovers in the place where she had seen the coyote, then went to the deck with a coffee and binoculars. To her immense delight, the animal returned. She read about coyotes online, identifying hers as an adolescent by its size. It seemed to already be on its own in the world.
Annette became a bit obsessed with the animal, leaving it food every morning, then waiting for its arrival. The coyote was elegant and free. Why had God sent her a coyote? What was its message for her?
For three weeks, the coyote came like clockwork. It began to appear in her dreams as well. One day, when it met her gaze before leaving, its message was as clear to Annette as truth: Look at me, running away from your house! Follow me! Escape!
Oh, shit. Annette did not want this message, although she understood its power. How simple the solution was, in the end. Escape.
* * *
—
THE NEXT DAY WAS the first day of summer. Annette placed raw hamburger out for the coyote, then climbed to the deck. The sun rose above the greenbelt, igniting the treetops, and Annette waited. But the coyote did not arrive. She closed her eyes, summoned her spirit animal. But nothing happened. The coyote was gone.
That night, Annette met her friends for wine at Whitney’s house. And her own son went down into the greenbelt, where the coyote had lived. By the same source of water that had kept the coyote alive, Robert found a dead body.
It had to mean something. But what?
* * *
—
USUALLY, AT NAP TIME, Annette curled up on a mat beside the kids at Hola, Amigos. Sometimes, she fell asleep, but more often her mind wandered lazily, pleasurably. Robert, Xavier, and Charlie had attended the daycare from their second birthdays until they went to kindergarten. Annette had fallen in love with the place when she toured it, the same day she found out the fertilized donor egg had implanted. She’d called Louis （who’d been in a meeting）， called her parents, and then driven to Hola to put her future baby’s name on the list.
When Bobcat went to Barton Hills Elementary School, Annette began working at the daycare. The founder of Hola, Amigos, Hank Lefferts, had bought four South Austin houses in the early 1980s and knocked down three of them, creating an enormous outdoor play space. The penned yard was filled with sprinklers, mud, paints, toys, and utter mayhem. Hank—handsome, tanned, and tattooed—presided over the magical place. Annette adored her days among children in diapers dancing, singing, smearing themselves with shaving cream and mud. It reminded her of her grandmother’s house, where she and her cousins would run wild, only vaguely supervised.