“How can it have gotten this bad so fast? The house looks like Grey Gardens, and it’s not even May.” He swiveled toward Celeste with a schadenfreude smirk. “This lady’s not going to come prancing out in a leotard with a scarf on her head, is she?”
Celeste didn’t dignify the question with an answer.
Brendon’s sense of humor vanished when his joke flopped. “All right, let’s get this over with,” he ordered.
Celeste stayed put. She was calculating the distance from 256 Woodland Drive to the car she’d left parked downtown. It was almost walkable, she thought. But not quite.
“Celeste?”
She didn’t want to know what had happened to Harriett. She wanted to remember Harriett as the person she’d been. She couldn’t bear to see another woman brought low. Alone and abandoned. Depressed and defeated. If it could happen to Harriett, it could happen to anyone. Celeste was terrified that when the front door opened, she’d see her own future.
“Let’s go,” Brendon ordered.
And she went.
Brendon rang the doorbell and Celeste held her breath. A bee touched down on Brendon’s back. Celeste watched as it walked in circles and willed it to sting.
“May I help you?”
The tall woman standing in the doorway bore little resemblance to the woman Celeste had chatted with at holiday parties. Harriett’s hair hadn’t been touched by a stylist in months, and its natural waves were no longer ironed out. The gray had grown in, and silvery strands mingled with blond. A smear of rich black dirt stretched from her right cheekbone to the ear. She wore an army-green mechanic’s jumpsuit, its sleeves rolled up past her elbows and the zipper pulled down just enough to reveal the top of a black sports bra. Her arms looked lean and strong. One of her hands held a half-eaten apple.
“Celeste Howard,” Harriet said, her smile exposing a significant gap between her two front teeth. It was such a distinguishing feature that Celeste was amazed she hadn’t noticed it before. Together with eyes that seemed unusually focused and a mouth that stretched from ear to ear, the gap gave Harriett a feral, hungry look. “What a pleasure to see you.”
“Harriett.” Celeste hadn’t expected to be remembered, and found herself at a loss for words. “You look so different.”
“Yes,” Harriett readily agreed. “I’ve really let myself go.”
“That’s not what I meant!” Celeste rushed to clarify.
Harriett placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder, sending a wave of heat down Celeste’s arm. “I know what you meant,” she said.
Brendon stepped forward. Celeste noticed he seemed less sure of himself. Whatever he’d been expecting wasn’t at all what he’d found. “We’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind. May we come in?”
As Harriett’s attention migrated slowly to the man, the smile remained on her face. “Do I know you?” she asked, her head cocked, like a cat contemplating a roach.
Brendon offered a hand, which Harriett regarded with amusement but didn’t deign to touch. “My name is Brendon Baker.” He let his hand drop. “I’m president of the Mattauk Homeowners Association.”
“Ah,” Harriett replied, as if that were enough and she didn’t care to know any more. “So how have you been, Celeste? You certainly look well.”
Celeste blushed. It felt like it had been ages, she realized, since anyone had given her their full attention. “I am well. And you?”
“I’ve been busy.” Harriett took a bite of her apple and chewed leisurely before continuing. “Very busy, in fact. I’ve been catching up on my reading. There are so many fascinating subjects I never had time to explore. Botany, primarily, but also—”