that gloomy house with his dolls.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Ian gave her a funny look, and Kate realized she was gripping the counter. She let go, giving herself a mental shake. There was nothing to be afraid of. The person who’d taken Lily Slocum wasn’t going to break into her house and Terrence Simnic was just a harmless eccentric.
“No problem,” she said. “Grace and I can manage.”
“Manage what?” Grace slouched into the room and looked suspiciously at her parents. “I hope you haven’t signed me up for something like that stupid pottery class.”
Her parents laughed and Ian said, “You enjoyed that once you gave it a try and stopped complaining.”
“Yeah, who doesn’t want to hang out with some freaked-out hippie lady whose place reeks of patchouli and get your clothes covered in gray shit so you can produce one lopsided ashtray.”
“Don’t use that language,” Kate said, handing her a fistful of silverware. “And I loved your lopsided ashtray even if none of us smoke.”
“Mom, I could snort into a Kleenex and you’d treasure it.”
Ian put his wineglass down. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.”
Grace rolled her eyes, but only after she’d turned away from her father, Kate noticed. Instead of challenging Grace’s statement, she simply said, “Set the table and pour yourself some milk.”
“I want a Diet Coke.”
“Milk.” Kate held up a hand as Grace opened her mouth to argue. “You’re growing, you need the calcium, and it’s nonnegotiable.”
Grace gave a put-upon sigh, but after halfheartedly setting the table, she clumped past her parents to grab a glass from a cupboard and the milk from the fridge.
“Did you practice today?” Ian asked.
“Of course.” Grace sounded exasperated, but Ian pressed on.
“How was school today?”
Grace shrugged in reply and slunk over to the table with her glass, which, despite her protests, she immediately began taking sips from.
“C’mon, what happened? What did you learn?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m going to ask for my tax money back,” Ian said with a smile, nudging her with an elbow. The old, prepuberty Grace would have laughed at this, but teenage Grace, the bad seed, screeched.
“Watch it! You’ll spill my milk!”
Kate silently gave her own put-upon sigh as Ian came to serve the plates.
“Boarding school,” he muttered under his breath.
“Are you kidding? Then we wouldn’t be able to monitor her at all. I’m sure she’d have Damien as her guest in under a minute.”
Kate had spoken in a whisper, but Grace managed to pick up on a familiar name. “What are you saying about Damien? Did he call?”
“We’re not talking to you, young lady,” Ian said. “Sit down.”
“No! I want to know if Damien called. Did he?”
Ian squared off with her, arms crossed over his broad chest. “First of all, Damien isn’t allowed to call—remember? Secondly, you don’t say no to me. Sit. Down.”
Grace hesitated, staring at her father with hatred. Ian took one step toward her and she dropped in her seat.
Kate passed out plates and took her own seat. “Well, bon appétit, everybody,” she said, trying not to imbue it with sarcasm.
The photographs of Lily Slocum preyed on Kate’s mind, the image of the still girl lying on the chaise contrasting with that young, smiling face. After reading the article, she followed Grace out the door every day, accompanying her down the porch steps and their front walk and standing on the sidewalk in front of their house to watch her make her way to the end of the block to catch the bus.
“I could drive you,” Kate had offered. “Now that we’ve got a second car you don’t need to take the bus.”
Ian had spearheaded the purchase of a silver Toyota Prius, and was as thrilled as if he’d built it himself. He’d insisted on discussing all the features, and bored Kate with a detailed description of how hybrid cars work. When he offered to drive the
“Is that going to be a problem?” Ian gave her a funny look, and Kate realized she was gripping the counter. She let go, giving herself a mental shake. There was nothing to be afraid of. The person who’d taken Lily Slocum wasn’t going to break into her house and Terrence Simnic was just a harmless eccentric.
“No problem,” she said. “Grace and I can manage.”
“Manage what?” Grace slouched into the room and looked suspiciously at her parents. “I hope you haven’t signed me up for something like that stupid pottery class.”
Her parents laughed and Ian said, “You enjoyed that once you gave it a try and stopped complaining.”
“Yeah, who doesn’t want to hang out with some freaked-out hippie lady whose place reeks of patchouli and get your clothes covered in gray shit so you can produce one lopsided ashtray.”
“Don’t use that language,” Kate said, handing her a fistful of silverware. “And I loved your lopsided ashtray even if none of us smoke.”
“Mom, I could snort into a Kleenex and you’d treasure it.”
Ian put his wineglass down. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.”
Grace rolled her eyes, but only after she’d turned away from her father, Kate noticed. Instead of challenging Grace’s statement, she simply said, “Set the table and pour yourself some milk.”
“I want a Diet Coke.”
“Milk.” Kate held up a hand as Grace opened her mouth to argue. “You’re growing, you need the calcium, and it’s nonnegotiable.”
Grace gave a put-upon sigh, but after halfheartedly setting the table, she clumped past her parents to grab a glass from a cupboard and the milk from the fridge.
“Did you practice today?” Ian asked.
“Of course.” Grace sounded exasperated, but Ian pressed on.
“How was school today?”
Grace shrugged in reply and slunk over to the table with her glass, which, despite her protests, she immediately began taking sips from.
“C’mon, what happened? What did you learn?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m going to ask for my tax money back,” Ian said with a smile, nudging her with an elbow. The old, prepuberty Grace would have laughed at this, but teenage Grace, the bad seed, screeched.
“Watch it! You’ll spill my milk!”
Kate silently gave her own put-upon sigh as Ian came to serve the plates.
“Boarding school,” he muttered under his breath.
“Are you kidding? Then we wouldn’t be able to monitor her at all. I’m sure she’d have Damien as her guest in under a minute.”
Kate had spoken in a whisper, but Grace managed to pick up on a familiar name. “What are you saying about Damien? Did he call?”
“We’re not talking to you, young lady,” Ian said. “Sit down.”
“No! I want to know if Damien called. Did he?”
Ian squared off with her, arms crossed over his broad chest. “First of all, Damien isn’t allowed to call—remember? Secondly, you don’t say no to me. Sit. Down.”
Grace hesitated, staring at her father with hatred. Ian took one step toward her and she dropped in her seat.
Kate passed out plates and took her own seat. “Well, bon appétit, everybody,” she said, trying not to imbue it with sarcasm.
The photographs of Lily Slocum preyed on Kate’s mind, the image of the still girl lying on the chaise contrasting with that young, smiling face. After reading the article, she followed Grace out the door every day, accompanying her down the porch steps and their front walk and standing on the sidewalk in front of their house to watch her make her way to the end of the block to catch the bus.
“I could drive you,” Kate had offered. “Now that we’ve got a second car you don’t need to take the bus.”
Ian had spearheaded the purchase of a silver Toyota Prius, and was as thrilled as if he’d built it himself. He’d insisted on discussing all the features, and bored Kate with a detailed description of how hybrid cars work. When he offered to drive the
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