“How helpful,” Lena said from the kitchen.
Based on all of the clattering and opened cabinets, Annie suspected something complicated was in the works.
She was perched tentatively on Lena’s giant, cream-colored L-shaped sofa. The house still screamed wealth: Annie’s palms rested on soft suede cushions. Dramatic veins zigged and zagged through the marble kitchen. The art on the walls was colorful and bold and unexpected, like it belonged in a museum.
Behind Annie was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, done in a gorgeous light-grained wood. On almost every shelf, planted among the book spines was at least one framed photograph of Rachel Meeker. Annie desperately wanted to turn around and gawk at them. Instead, she forced herself off the couch and walked over to the windows to check on Yellow, who’d been quarantined on Lena’s lawn.
Yellow sniffed Lena’s rosebushes in a familiar way that made Annie silently plead with the dog to not soil them, or the grass, which was lush and entirely free from brown patches. Even now, in late summer, Lena probably had the funds to water the entire thing all night, every night.
She looked out to the north, where Highway Five snaked through the valley like a concrete river. Annie remembered how years before, at the swim-team party, some of the kids had attempted to identify the roofs of their houses in the valley below.
“Paint thinner might work,” Lena said as she popped up from behind one of the kitchen islands. “I don’t think I have any, though.”
“I’ll check our garage,” Annie said. “Are you sure I can’t help you out back there?”
“Almost done.” Lena was using kitchen shears to snip mint leaves off their stems. She smiled politely. “You said you’re due at the school?”
“Sandstone K-8. I work three and a half days a week as a counselor, you know, socio-emotional stuff or disciplinary problems. If there’s a trauma in the family—”
It was horrible timing, but Annie couldn’t stop herself from just then glancing at a photo of Rachel. The girl’s large serious dark eyes were like a beacon, poor thing, and oh my goodness, had Lena caught Annie staring?
“What a great book selection,” Annie said quickly.
“I used to have a separate library upstairs,” Lena said, “but I was always grabbing books to read in here and stacking them all around and I finally realized, why not just make a library wall?”
Annie suppressed a smile. Why not indeed?
Ah, to be budget-free. You know how the four of us are always jockeying for a turn in the shower, she could blithely ask Mike, why not just add another bathroom?
Based on the familiar titles on the shelves, Lena’s tastes, like Annie’s, leaned toward historical fiction. Annie didn’t know the particulars of Lena’s days—she was toned and her skin glowed—so obviously she hadn’t gone full-on Miss Havisham, but according to Harriet Nessel, who had lived in Cottonwood Estates forever, Lena had been very in-the-mix before the accident.
That part, at least, wasn’t Annie’s fault. People were going to react to tragedy however they reacted.
Annie snuck another peek at Rachel Meeker, who looked right through her. If Annie moved across the room, those round accusing eyes would probably follow wherever she went.
“I think you’re my reading soul mate,” Annie said.
“I don’t know what I’d do without books,” Lena said. Her voice, quiet and a little sad, made something pulse quickly in Annie’s heart.
“Readers are the best people,” Annie said. “Think about it: our hobby is putting ourselves in someone else’s shoes.”
“I suppose.”
“My friend Deb always says that book clubs are the gold standard of humanity—whoa.” Annie clapped her hands together as Lena set down the tray on the coffee table. “How lovely is this?”
Lena had served a platter of tiny round tea cakes, decorated with the sprigs of mint. Two porcelain cups on saucers sat next to a creamer and a precious little sugar bowl with miniature silver tongs for the lumps.
All this fuss for a neighbor announcing your mailbox had been graffitied? And who had tea cakes just sitting around like this? Rachel’s devastated eyes agreed with Annie that yes, it was exactly as sad and lonely as it seemed.
Go on, Rachel said, you owe us.
“Lena,” Annie said brightly as Lena sat down and elegantly crossed one leg over the other. “Speaking of how wonderful readers are, do you know about Cottonwood’s book club?”
Lena uncrossed her legs, leaned slightly backward. “I’ve seen the emails.”