She cocked her head, sending that long swing of blond hair over her shoulder. She’d changed up the tone, going from a faded raspberry to a silvery shimmer at the tips. “You know what I kept thinking about today during the services?”
She as well as her mother and sister had spoken in front of the crowd, eloquently, emotionally. But it was the single tear that slid down Sloane’s cheek, the ones she dashed away with my handkerchief, that had sliced me open and left me raw.
“A dozen new ways to piss me off, starting with invading my privacy?”
“How happy Dad would have been if we’d ever pretended to get along.”
It was my turn to close my eyes. She landed the strike with expert precision. Guilt was a sharp weapon.
Simon would have loved nothing more than to see his daughter and his “project” at least friendly toward each other again.
“I guess there’s no reason to start now,” she continued. Her eyes were locked on mine. There was nothing friendly in her gaze. Only a pain and grief that mirrored my own. But we weren’t going to mourn together.
“I guess not,” I agreed.
She heaved a sigh, then hopped off the counter. “Cool. I’ll show myself out.”
“Take the coat,” I said, holding it out to her. “It’s cold.”
She shook her head. “If I take it, I’d have to bring it back, and I’d rather not come back here.” Her gaze flicked around the space, and I knew she too had ghosts here.
“Take the fucking coat, Sloane.” My voice was hoarse. I pushed it into her arms, not giving her the choice.
For a second, we were connected by cashmere.
“Are you here for me?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“You heard me. Are you here for me?”
“I came to pay my respects. Your father was a good man, and your mother has always been nothing but kind to me.”
“Why did you come back this summer?”
“Because my oldest friends were behaving like children.”
“And I didn’t factor into those decisions?” she pressed.
“You never do.”
She nodded briskly. There was no hint of emotion on her lovely face. “Good.” She took the coat from me and slid her arms through the too-long sleeves. “When are you going to sell this place?” she asked, fluffing that silvery blond hair out of the collar.
“Spring,” I said.
“Good,” she said again. “It’ll be nice having decent neighbors for a change,” she said.
Then Sloane Walton walked out of my house without looking back.
I ate the cold burger and fries instead of the chicken, then washed the plate and returned it to the cabinet. The counters and floors were next as I wiped away any trace my unwanted visitor may have left behind.
I was tired. That hadn’t been a lie. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and go to bed with a book. But I wouldn’t sleep. Not until she did. Besides, there was work to be done. I headed upstairs to my old bedroom, a space I now used primarily as an office.
I sat down at the desk under the large bay window that overlooked the backyard and offered a view of Sloane’s. My phone signaled a text.
Karen: We’re having a wonderful time. Just what the soul needed today. Thank you again for being so thoughtful and generous! P.S. My friend has a daughter she wants you to meet.
She included a winking smiley face and a selfie of her and her friends in matching robes, all with green goop on their faces. Their eyes were red and swollen, but the smiles looked genuine. Some people could withstand the worst without it damaging their souls. The Waltons were those people. I, on the other hand, had been born damaged.
Me: You’re welcome. No daughters.
I scrolled through the rest of my text messages until I found the thread I was looking for.
Simon: If I could have chosen a son in this lifetime, it would have been you. Take care of my girls.
It was the last text I’d ever receive from the man I’d admired. The man who had so foolishly believed I could be saved. I dropped the phone, my fingers flexing, and once again I wished I’d saved the day’s cigarette for now. Instead, I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing away the burn I felt there.
I tamped it down, picked up the phone again, and scrolled through my contacts. She shouldn’t be alone, I rationalized.
Me: Sloane isn’t at her sister’s. She’s home alone.
Naomi: Thanks for the heads-up. I had a feeling she was going to try to wrangle some sneaky alone time. Lina and I will handle it.