“Yes,” she said.
“Are you proud of yourself?” George said. “I mean, really? Are you just peachy keen proud of yourself? Because you’ve pulled a lot of stunts in your day, and I’ve even helped with some of them, but this really tears it. This really tears. it. What the hell did you think you were doing?”
“I was just trying to get through a couple of months,” Penny said. “This really isn’t as big a thing as you’re making it. It was just for a few months and then in the fall I was going to rent a regular place. I just needed to save up—”
“Are you out of your mind?” George said. “Are you crazy? Seriously, Mom, listen to yourself. You had to get through a couple of months? Why? You’ve got two grown children and we’re both working—”
“You’ve got your own lives to lead,” Penny said. “You’ve got those college loans to repay. And you can’t let those default. It ruins your credit rating. And you need a credit rating these days if you want a new job or anything like that. So you can’t—”
“I can afford to keep you in an apartment in Mattatuck. What does that cost these days, maybe five hundred a month?”
“Five hundred a month is a lot of money.”
“Oh, please. Between Graham and me, we could afford twice that, plus your utilities. Why didn’t you tell us? That’s what bugs me. Why didn’t you tell us? You made such a point of it, after Dad died, when we were all growing up, about how we’d be all right as long as we remained a family and we all stuck together. Well, where’s the ‘sticking together,’ Mom? Where is it? Was that only supposed to apply to you, and Graham and I were allowed to be self-absorbed little asses.”
“You’re not self-absorbed little asses.”
“You can bet your butt we’re not,” George said. “You’d better get a pen and a piece of paper. I’ve got stuff you need to write down.”
“I really don’t want the two of you to tear up your lives just because I can’t get my act together,” Penny said. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I’m supposed to take care of myself.”
“We’re supposed to take care of you,” George said. “Take this down. We got two rooms. They’ve always got those big double beds. Graham and I shared a room for years when we were at home. Go to the front desk. Say you’re Penelope London and you want to check in. We put it all on credit cards. It’s all paid for. Check in, move in, order a bunch of room service—”
“I don’t know if there is room service,” Penny said. “And you can’t do that. Room service is ridiculously expensive—”
“I’ll call the restaurant and order you lunch. It’ll cost more than an arm and a leg because it will be dinner for six and you’d damned better eat it.”
“No, don’t do that.”
“Do you have any money on you at all?”
“I have money on me and I have money in the bank,” Penny said. “You don’t understand. This isn’t what you think it is.”
“I know what it is,” George said. “We’ll talk about what it’s going to be when we get there. Go check in. I’m ready to kill you.”
The phone went dead again. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the news feed had come around.
The two dead bodies discovered at Stephenson Dam this morning have been identified as belonging to Althea Marie Michaelman, 52, and Michael Robert Katowski, 48.
She had a girl in her class named Michaelman. Haydee Michaelman. Maybe this was her mother?
Penny shook her head. If anything, at that age, it would be Haydee’s grandmother. Haydee had written about her mother, and her mother had gotten pregnant and had to drop out of school at sixteen.
3
Kenny Morton had been half-waiting for the call all morning—half-waiting and half-worrying about Haydee. The worrying would not leave him. Haydee was something beyond distraught. She cried for hours after they were done with the police. Then she’d let him drive her out to The Elms on Straits Turnpike, ordered a hamburger, and cried there. The Elms sounded fancy, but it wasn’t. It was an ordinary old-fashioned offers-everything-American-kind-of restaurant with large portions and the kind of thing your mother made at home. You could get meatloaf there, and Brussels sprouts.
“It’s kinda funny to think of it,” Kenny said, by way of making neutral conversation. “Restaurants all used to be like this. You know, not Italian or Chinese or Mexican, just American. Ordinary stuff.”