Lanky. Curly brown hair down past her shoulders. Dressed in jeans and hiking boots. Arms raised defensively, her mouth open in a scream, two dimples appearing in her cheeks.
Jen’s throat went completely dry. Laurel.
Nan was back to stirring the damn spoon.
Arguments ran through Jen’s head in Paul’s voice: You can’t kick out someone for a picture! Freedom of expression is a fundamental right! How can you be sure that’s even Laurel?
Jen felt her hands start to shake. To settle them, she wrapped them around the coffee cup. “What do you make of it?”
“I’m worried,” Nan said. “I may have dropped the ball here.”
Wait. What?
The new mother across the coffee shop swapped the gauze cocoon baby to the other breast and watched Jen with a beatific smile. She was not exhausted, Jen realized, but blissed out.
“I’ve been distracted,” Nan continued, “and Abe and Colin seemed to get along so well and—not that I’m trying to excuse myself, I obviously need to make amends—but I haven’t gotten to know him the way I usually do my students.
“I’m aware he’s more of a gamer than a reader, but I was thinking Abe and I could maybe read one of his vampire books together over the summer. Initially it might be a way for us to connect.”
“You’re not kicking him out?”
“No.” Nan appeared startled at the suggestion. “For the moment I’m more interested in figuring out why he created this. Is Abe just expressing pain? Does he have a plan to hurt people? We just need to get to the bottom of this, but I am not abandoning him.”
Nan handed her neatly folded paper napkin to Jen. She paused as Jen swiped it under her eyes.
“I would like your honest input on how we proceed in the short term.” Nan’s voice was gentle as it pinned her to the wall. “Do you think Abe has plans to hurt his friend?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
As soon as the Perleys got home from graduation, Mike grabbed Laurel’s shoulders and steered her to the couch in the den.
“Wait right here,” he said.
“Aren’t we supposed to go up to Lena’s?”
“Dad has a surprise first,” Annie said. “A good one.”
They hovered over Laurel, watched as she slid off the silver wrapping paper, creaked open the velvet box, and looked up at them uncertainly.
“What’s this?”
“A family heirloom,” Mike said. He sat next to her on the couch. “It was your great-great-grandfather’s and he passed it down to his oldest son, and so on and so on. Grandma and Grandpa wanted to give it to you in person so badly, but they told us we could. That’s Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of children.”
“And sailors and brewers,” Annie said with a laugh, but Laurel didn’t even crack a smile.
“As far as heirlooms go, it’s a little underwhelming I guess,” Mike said, his voice tinged with hurt. “But generations of Perleys believe it’s good luck. It’s been through three wars and everyone who wore it came back alive, so … put it on and we can send a photo to Grandma and Grandpa.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Laurel snapped shut the velvet jewelry box. “Don’t give it to me.”
“Why not?” Hank said.
“I’m not a Perley,” Laurel said. “You are, Hank, but I’m something else.”
Annie felt the room tilt to the left.
“What do you mean something else?” Hank said.
“Mike’s not my dad,” Laurel said. She looked at Annie, who felt a rushing in her ears. “Tell him.”
“He is,” Hank said. “Yes he is your dad.” He looked from Mike to Annie. Back to Mike. His voice rose with a squeak. “Right?”
“He’s your dad,” Laurel corrected. “My father’s name was Bryce Neary and I’ll never meet him because he’s dead.” Her laugh was sharp. “We’re all supposed to forget about him, apparently.”
Across the room Mike’s face had drained of color. When his eyes met Annie’s, she felt a pinprick of pain drill through the shock.
“Say something,” Laurel said. Her hands rose in frustration. “I’m right. Say I’m right.”
“No,” Annie said. Her voice came out high, strangled. “Not exactly.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Lena stood inside the party tent, next to Hilde the event planner.
Around them was the symphony of preparation. Caterers placed down balloon centerpieces. On the southern edge of the lawn, two men rolled the luxury porta-potties down a ramp from a truck bed. By the cottonwood tree, DJ Lightning set up his booth.