Edgewater (20 page)

I heard footsteps, more than just one pair, and then Altana was peeking her head into the doorway, along with Jen and Claire Glidewell. As far as I knew, Claire had never before stuck around the barn to hang out with Altana and Jen.

“Sorry to bother you,” Altana said. She was looking at Charlie, not me. “We were waiting for you guys to come out.”

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I'm Claire,” Claire said, stepping forward and thrusting a hand toward Charlie. “I'm an old friend of Lorrie's.”

“Good to meet you,” Charlie said.

“It's great to meet you,” Claire said. She turned to me. “And, Lorrie—I heard you're
working
here.”

I nodded stiffly.

“But you were supposed to be at Woodscape all summer.”

“There was a change of plans,” I said.

“So you're living at home, then?”

“Yup.”

“That's got to be . . . interesting,” she said.

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, I haven't been to your house in years. Not since your—what was it? Your ninth birthday party?” She didn't pause for me to reply. “When your aunt said we could each take a kitten home as a party favor? She let me take two, because I couldn't decide between a white one and a gray one.”

My cheeks blazed as she recounted the story. I hadn't had a birthday party since.

“My mom would've gone mad if I'd brought home a kitten, let alone two of them,” Jen said.

“Oh, my mom did,” Claire told her. “I cried for a week when my mom said I couldn't keep them.” She turned to me. “I wasn't allowed to play at your house anymore. Not that you've invited me.”

I could feel judgment all around me, like the dust and grime of Edgewater. The blissful feeling of having Charlie there had been popped like a bubble. I wished I could blink him away
from my side. Or blink and make myself disappear. It certainly wasn't the first time I'd wished to disappear. Instead, I stood there, completely visible, and praying that Claire wouldn't say any further incriminating things about me.

Jen started giggling, and my cheeks went hotter and redder, knowing the joke was on me. “What?” Claire asked.

“I'm sorry,” Jen said. “It's just that you look exactly like you do in your pictures.”

“Well, of course he does,” Altana said.

Oh, good. They were back on Charlie.

“I think you're even cuter in person,” Claire told him. “Can I get a picture?” She didn't wait for a response before she pushed herself against him and held out her phone to take a selfie. Then of course Jen and Altana wanted pictures, too.

“Listen,” Claire said. “I'm meeting a bunch of people at Crescent for dinner. You guys should come.”

“Oh, I can't,” I said.

“I heard your membership lapsed,” she told me. “But it's not a problem. You can be my guests. All of you.” She swept her arm in a gesture of generosity.

Altana and Jen were nodding in assent, thrilled for the chance to have dinner with Charlie. But my heart was racing, and I couldn't get enough air. It was bad enough to be here with Charlie and these girls who knew too much about me. But to have to stay behind here and work while he went out with them—who knew what stories they'd spill in my absence? Certainly I'd never see him again. Or, worse, he'd fall for Claire, who didn't live a life of land mines, and I'd see him when he came to the barn to watch
her
ride.

Every time I played the movie in my head of what might happen if Charlie found out the truth about me, it never ended well.

Charlie checked the time on his cell phone. “Thanks for the invite, but I've got to get going,” he said.

A whiplash of relief slammed my body.

“But I'll come by again soon, if it's okay with you.”

“Yeah. It's okay with me,” I said.

He gave me a last peck on the lips. I was too shell-shocked from leftover fear to appreciate the looks of jealousy from the other girls. For one brief, flickering moment, they might have even wanted to switch places with me. “See you around,” Charlie said. “Soon.” And then he was gone.

16

GHOST EYES

HOURS LATER I PUSHED OPEN THE FRONT DOOR AT
Edgewater, accidentally knocking it into Prince Valiant, a geriatric, one-eyed orange tabby. “Sorry, old guy,” I said. I reached down to pick him up, something I rarely did with my sister's creatures, and stroked his fur. Prince Valiant slowly blinked his remaining eye, which Susannah had once told me was a sign that he liked me. A kitty kiss.

I walked to the floor lamp in the corner, but when I turned the switch, it didn't go on. I hoped we had extra bulbs, though I suspected not. But I could always switch it out with a lightbulb from a less important lamp in a less important room. I moved deeper into the house, flipping light switches along the way. But the house remained dark.

I found Gigi in the library at the end of the hall, sitting in a club chair by one of Edgewater's nine nonworking fireplaces.
The room smelled the way just about every other room in the house did. But different, as if each room had been sprayed with a different scent of a line of perfumes. Eau de Decay, I'd call the line. Here in the library you could get a whiff of Decay Number Five: Book Mold.

I flipped one last switch, by the door. Nothing happened.

“Gigi,” I said.

At the sound of my raised voice, Prince Valiant clawed to be put down, and when I did so, he tore out of the room. My aunt turned to me. Above her hung an oil painting of my mother as a child. My grandfather had commissioned somber-looking portraits of all the family members. They were hung around the room in custom-made gilt frames, each under its own spotlight. In the darkness Mom's childhood brown eyes looked like holes cut out of the portrait. It might as well have been a portrait of a ghost.

“Oh, Lorrie,” Gigi said. “I thought you were out with Susannah and Brian.”

“When have I ever been out with Susannah and Brian?”

“They said they were going to a carnival. I remember taking you when you were small. You insisted on playing ring toss until you'd won enough times to trade up for the exact prize you wanted. Now I bet you don't even know where that stuffed unicorn is, but I do.”

“You've got to tell me where the money is, Gigi. We've got to take care of these bills.”

“Look at what's out there.” Gigi stood and stepped toward a window. Her voice was soft, as if it was coming from across a distance.

“What?”

“A hundred years ago, we would've been living off the fruits of our land. No reason we can't do it now. We have everything we need right in front of us.”

“Listen to yourself,” I said. “You sound crazy. This isn't a hundred years ago, and nothing grows on our land besides dandelions.”

“I do love a good gazpacho,” she said. “I'll plant some bell peppers—red or yellow ones but not green.”

“Of course not green,” I said. This was insane.

Gigi stood and pressed her hands against the glass pane. She looked out across the land she intended to conquer. I turned away in disgust and thundered up the darkened back stairwell to my room.

SLEEP ELUDED ME ALL NIGHT LONG, AND I WAS
awake when the sun rose and the birds began chirping like it was any other day. I went into the bathroom and turned on the sink, twisting the knob around more than usual to get the water running. Finally I smacked my hand against the faucet, giving up. Either Gigi hadn't paid our water bill, or the water pressure was tied to the electricity, or both. I brushed my teeth with just toothpaste and the spit in my mouth. A shower was clearly out of the question. After I got dressed, I retrieved the brown paper bag that I'd hidden in the back of my closet and dumped its contents out onto my bed, surveying the collection. I fingered each piece of my grandmother's silver, wondering which utensil was the first she'd acquired. This spoon? That knife? The little fork to get the lobster out of a claw?
And which of them were among those bought in bulk once Grandpa had hit it big?

The pieces were no longer tarnished; at least Brian was good for something. I used the end of my nightshirt to get little remnants of polish out from in between some of the tongs on the forks and in the teeny-tiny petals of the flower at the ends of the handles. Then I gathered it all back up, put it into the bag, and headed out to Oceanfront.

ORION MUST HAVE HEARD ME OPEN THE DOOR AT
the end of the corridor, because when I got to his stall, he was waiting for me, his sleek Hershey-bar-brown neck hanging over the door. It was still early; no one else was there, nor would they be for a while longer, so I didn't have to feel even vaguely conflicted about spending the next hour with my horse.

Orion knew what the sound of my undoing the latch meant, and he stepped back to let me enter. Chivalry was not dead, not even if you were a horse. I hugged him hello, and he lowered his muzzle to match my affection. I led him to the corridor and tacked him up. Ten minutes later we started out on the path behind the barn that went down toward the ocean, the path Orion and I had been riding together for years. We walked to a clearing where deer were grazing. They raised their heads and regarded Orion and me. We stood silently. Orion didn't so much as flick an ear. I think he was as mesmerized as I was.

When the rustle of wind in the trees sent the deer running, I gave Orion a little kick, and we were off. My horse's hooves beat against the ground. I felt his power as if it were my own—my own energy, my own strength, my own fury, pounding and
pounding. We flew over a tree that had fallen across the path as if it was nothing. Branches arched above us, a few low enough that I had to duck my head to the space between Orion's ears. He cantered along the bend that led to a view of the water. From the vantage point of the top of a horse, it felt like being on the edge of a cliff. I couldn't see the ground in front of me, just the roaring ocean below. Once, I read that humans have a natural urge to jump off bridges and cliffs and other high places, as if something is pulling them in the direction of disaster. I wondered if that was what the freak was feeling when he stood at the Point that night—a surge of excitement and adrenaline at the realization that it would be so easy. Just one more step.

Would Orion do it, if I kicked him in the side and pressed forward? Did horses have the same urge that humans did? Even if Orion didn't, he wasn't green anymore. He trusted me, followed my lead. Would he follow me over the edge, if that was where I led him?

As if he'd sensed the thoughts in my head, Orion took a few tentative steps backward. I let out a deep breath and pulled to turn him around and head home.

Orion was more subdued on the walk back to Oceanfront, and so was I. Once at the barn, I clipped him into crossties, removed his sweaty tack, and hosed him down to cool him off. Then I used the sweat brush to sweep off the excess water and set him out to pasture. After he was settled, I headed into the bathroom, closed myself into one of the shower stalls, turned the dial, and marveled at the miracle of actual water pressure. Hot water! Cold water! As much water as I wanted! It's true
what they say: You never realize how much you love something until it's gone. And I loved that shower. I stayed in extra long, letting the shower stall steam up around me. I hadn't felt so good since Charlie had showed up unannounced, and without even thinking about it, I wrote his name in the condensation. I traced the letters again and again as the water pounded around me.

CHARLIE COPELAND
. And then I palmed out his name so no one else would see it.

WHEN I WAS DONE AND DRESSED, IT WAS JUST
about nine o'clock and time to get on with the chores of the day—the ones I was paid to do. I turned out a half dozen horses and cleaned out their stalls. I was feeding a blue-black mare, Cobalt, a flake of hay when Lennox stopped by.

“Hey,” I said, ducking out of the stall.

“‘Hey'? That's all you have to say?”

“What do you mean?”

“Claire said she met Charlie here yesterday—because he was visiting you.”

“She did, indeed.”

“Holy shit, Lorrie! I can't believe you didn't tell me!”

“I don't have a phone,” I reminded her.

She shook her head. “I know. It's really cramping my style.”

“Yours and mine both,” I said glumly.

“Okay, listen. I don't have much time, because I have to meet Claire for lunch.”

Lunch.
The word made my gut twist. I'd scoped out the
break room that morning and found an apple. Probably meant for someone's horse, but I ate it anyway. I was hungry again.

“But I need to be brought up to speed on this.”

“He came here yesterday to meet Orion and watch me ride.”