Next to Lena is a woman who Jen assumes is Lena’s prodigal daughter Rachel, with thick curly hair cut short, gray at the temples, dimples similar to Laurel’s.
Peering closer, Jen thinks that they look more like siblings than Laurel and Hank do, or maybe it’s just how closely their faces are positioned together and their matching dimples and smiles.
Family! boasts the caption.
Jen, who is not in a book club now that she’s teaching, thinks that she ought to join one; a part of her misses the camaraderie. She comments on the photo, something generically supportive and enthusiastic and forgettable.
She can’t help but wonder about the real story behind the picture—is Laurel okay? Does she have daily ups and downs like Abe, who is about to start work as a programmer （fingers crossed it sticks）， but with no plans or desire to ever date or leave home （a relief, Jen feels, as well as something to mourn）。
Abe isn’t as volatile now—at least, Jen doesn’t think so—but he’s still Abe, and the three of them remain their own little island. She tries not to think about what happens when they die, because the worry leaves her breathless, and because that’s the rub of being a parent: there are some things you just can’t control.
Which doesn’t mean you don’t try.
Is Laurel’s off-track college graduation （two years late by Jen’s calculation） traceable to the way Jen ushered Colin into her life like a Trojan horse? Or has he managed to fade into the background?
When Paul asks what are you gawking at, Jen will show him the photo and he’ll shrug. Who’s that?
Really, Paul?
From Cottonwood? Remember Laurel’s awful party where we thought Abe might be the vandal and that terrible video game he made? The night that Colin …
Sweet Jesus, Paul will say. I blocked that out.
Jen will fervently wish that she were capable of doing the same.
She’d be so much more productive without all of this noise in her head, but she feels less alone when she imagines Annie tuned to the same frequency.
We’d do anything for our children, you and I, Jen imagines saying. She likes to think that Annie would tilt her white head in agreement.
Not that it’s anything to brag about.
Back to the fever of that September:
On the couch before the book club discussion started, Jen felt desperate to diffuse the electricity between herself and Annie. She gently nudged Annie’s shoulder and pointed to Harriet Nessel, pitched slightly forward in her big striped chair, watching them intensely.
Annie’s face relaxed for a minute.
“Are we in trouble, Harriet?” she said, a teasing smile in her voice.
Harriet frowned. With a click of her pen against the legal pad, she leaned back against her chair.
“Enough chitchat,” she said. “It’s time to discuss the book.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have felt my agent Allison Hunter’s belief in this book, and me, at every step of the journey （which is truly saying something, as we took the scenic route）。 In addition to being smart as a whip, Allison is loyal, patient, supportive, and such excellent company that it is possible to meet her for a lunch that morphs into dinner with no idea of how the time has flown. Thank you, AH, for everything.
My extremely heartfelt thanks to my editor, Christine Kopprasch, who is as fiercely talented as she is kind. I am so very grateful to have been taken under your wing.
Flatiron Books is filled with first-rate professionals at the top of their games. Thank you to Maxine Charles, Samantha Zukergood, Jordan Forney, Nikkia Rivera, Katy Robitzski, Allyson Ryan, Donna Sinisgalli Noetzel, Bob Miller, Megan Lynch, Marlena Bittner, Gillian Redfearn, Lisa Amoroso, Morgan Mitchell, Keith Hayes, and everyone else there who contributed their expertise to The Neighbor’s Secret. Also, thank you to the incomparable Amy Einhorn.
I’m indebted to the following people for their efforts in championing the book: Kristina Moore at Anonymous Content, and Tanya Farrell and Kelly Cronin at Wunderkind. Thank you also to Natalie Edwards and the rest of the Janklow & Nesbit team, and Clare Mao for your early and insightful notes. An eternal thank-you to the lovely Kerry Donovan.
Thank you also to some of my favorite authors: Chandler Baker, Kimberly Belle, Michele Campbell, and Laura Hankin. Their willingness to read and blurb The Neighbor’s Secret was no small favor, as they are all busy crafting amazing novels of their own.
Maggie Shapiro’s donation to the wonderful Horizons program, which provides opportunities to the underserved students of Denver, earned her the right to lend her name to a character. Thank you, Maggie, for your generosity, and for letting me use your good name.