Chapter Seven
Saturday, October 3
The same older woman we’d seen yesterday answered the door, Naomi cradled in her arms. “Hi!” Her cheeriness didn’t quite match the situation. It was as if she realized the same thing I was thinking, because she said, again, “Hi,” this time in a much more muted, somber manner. She was more beautiful than I had realized yesterday—her white hair had made her look old from a distance, but up close, it gave her kind of a Meryl Streep vibe. She was elegantly dressed, too, in black pants and flats and a white wrap sweater, and tortoiseshell glasses. She also had, rather adorably, a leopard fanny pack at her hip, an extra paci dangling from it. A very prepared grandma.
Vanessa spoke first, which was what I had hoped would happen. “Hi—we’re in a new moms’ group with Isabel. I’m Vanessa, and this is Jenn. We are so sorry to hear about what happened. We’re all praying she’s okay. You must be so worried.”
“We are, of course. It’s very distressing. I’m Isabel’s mother. Naomi’s grandma. Though I’m trying to get her to call me Lollie instead of Grandma—short for Louise, which is my name. I think it sounds a bit younger than Grandma. And having a young nickname is certainly cheaper than a face-lift. Ha. Anyway. I’m sorry. I babble when I’m stressed. And make jokes. And of course, I’m stressed beyond belief. But trying to keep my cool for Naomi. She’s a much-needed distraction for me. Would you like to come in?” Louise was immediately endeared to me; I appreciated her utter lack of filter.
“Just for a minute, if you’re sure it’s okay. We don’t want to intrude.” Vanessa started unclipping Phoebe from her stroller. “We brought some food—it can be hard to remember to eat at times like these, plus you’re so busy with the baby. We all know it isn’t easy caring for a newborn.” Though Vanessa made it look so, I thought with a mental eye roll.
“That was very sweet of you to bring food. Naomi’s been an angel, but she definitely misses Mama. Can I get you two a cup of coffee?” She placed Naomi in her bouncer, so we followed her lead and put Clara and Phoebe on the play mat next to her. They seemed calm enough, apparently pleased with the new gear selection and the flashing lights from Naomi’s bouncer. Louise whizzed around the kitchen, taking out oversize white mugs from the crisp white cupboards and organic oat milk from the massive fridge. The fridge door was glass. I couldn’t imagine having a glass fridge. My disorganization would be on display for anyone to see. But this fridge was meticulously organized, with lush fruits in one section, several blocks of cheese in another, rows of neatly labeled bottled breast milk on the top. Everything was in clear glass bins. There was nothing shameful about its contents or the way it was set up.
Louise whistled softly, clearly an old habit, as she moved and chatted, but her hands shook slightly, and she kept clearing her throat, possibly as a way to fight off tears. Still, she was keeping it together remarkably well, given the circumstances. If I were missing, I don’t think that my mom would have been able to even get dressed for the day, let alone make small talk with guests. Of course, I’d never know.
Vanessa broke the silence and pulled me back from my wallowing drift into thoughts of my mom. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, do the detectives have any leads?”
“Well. I know they’re working hard. The first step is always to look at the husband, so they’ve been talking to Connor quite a bit. Fortunately, I think they’ve more or less ruled him out, which is a relief for all of us. Not that we’d ever suspect him, but . . . you know.” Louise raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her coffee.
“That’s . . . great,” I said, feeling a bizarre sense of disappointment. “How were they able to rule him out so quickly?” I was aware that this may have been pushing too far, but I had never been in the situation of having a missing friend and so had little sense of what was appropriate and what wasn’t. Louise’s anxiety about the situation seemed to be loosening her lips, and while I hated to take advantage of that, it was hard to resist.
“Well, it’s lucky that your generation is so obsessed with watching your babies at all moments of the day! Isabel and Connor have a—is it called a Nest?—set up in their bedroom, since Naomi still sleeps in there some of the time. The camera was able to confirm to the police that Connor was in bed sleeping when Isabel disappeared. He was the one to discover she was missing in the morning when Naomi’s cries woke him up. Usually, Isabel would have been the one to get her”—of course—“but she wasn’t there. I’ll tell you, when I was a young mother, we definitely did not have the surveillance capabilities that you all do. I’d be in the yard gardening or something and Isabel would be up from a nap screaming her head off and I’d have no idea. Especially since I was on my own—sometimes things fell through the cracks. My husband died when she was a baby, and I never remarried.”