First, Drew. CarolAnna Grey had lived in the house, CarolAnna who had told them they shouldn’t buy it, CarolAnna who didn’t know what stories the children told. Once upon a time, Drew was her best friend in the world. Lacey found Grey and Associates in the phone book and decided she’d rather have this conversation in person, and without warning. Madison Grey took violin lessons from Harry Rakoczy, so Lacey went for a walk when he was pruning dead branches off his dogwoods and chatted with him about students. She’d tutored privately, last year, and she always had to have her apartment clean and her materials ready. How many students did Harry have? Was it hard to keep track? Madison Grey’s lesson, she found out, was at four on Thursday afternoons.
On Thursday at 3:58, she ran out the front door, gasped, and stepped back in. After three weeks of dry air, with everybody’s lawn turning blond except Harry’s, all September’s hoarded rain was coming down at once. The Greys’ car swam along Forrester Lane, waves washing back along the gutter from the wheels. Lacey grabbed Eric’s umbrella and hurried down the street as the Greys pulled into Harry’s driveway. “Let me take you to the door,” she said.
“No way am I getting under an umbrella that comes from the murder house,” Madison returned sharply. She jumped from the car and ran up to Harry’s door, shielding her head with the violin case.
“Want to come in?” Lacey asked. She held the umbrella over CarolAnna’s door.
“Thanks,” CarolAnna said. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Yes, me too.” Water filled Lacey’s sneakers and ran down her shoulders as she held the umbrella over CarolAnna, and the ten seconds from the car to the door soaked her to the skin. When she got inside, her wet clothes turned cold and stuck to her. She shook her head, feeling the wet hair flapping against her ears, and laughed. “There’s sweet tea. Or I can make coffee.”
“Tea’s fine, thanks.” CarolAnna sat down, put her elbows on the table, and shoved all her fingers into her hair, in the eternal gesture of the overworked mother. It took Lacey right back to the classroom, parent-teacher meetings with women who’d already put in a nine-hour day and had to get home to clean the house and make dinner.
Lacey wanted to tell CarolAnna not to worry, Madison was a good girl with the potential for high achievement, she simply had to apply herself, because that was true of them all. Nine-year-olds: their parents never appreciated them until it was too late. The only parents who knew how great their fourth grader was were those who had teenagers. She handed CarolAnna the glass of tea and said, “You wanted to ask me something?”
“Halloween. Will you decorate?”
“Not this year. No ladders for me, and Eric’s too busy.”
“It can get intense, so just leave your lights off. The Wilsons three doors down from you do a huge display, so there’ll be traffic. Last year they had holographic flying witches. And if you think it’s bad at Halloween, just wait till Christmas!”
They laughed, and Lacey said, “Have you lived in the neighborhood long?”
“We live a few blocks away, on Hills Place. It’s a nice neighborhood. Very active. I didn’t see you at the Labor Day picnic.”
Lacey rubbed her belly. “I didn’t feel up to it. Too hot.” She took a deep breath, wondering how to get the conversation around to the house. Then Drew was there, sitting opposite CarolAnna. Lacey’s body clenched and the hair on her arms stood up—the chair hadn’t moved from its place, it was impossible for anyone to have taken the seat without moving the chair, yet there he was. She was living in her mother’s world, where spiritual influences permeated every daily act. Light the right candle, change your life . . . She became aware that some minutes had passed in silence, herself staring blankly at Drew’s chair, and CarolAnna waiting for her to come out of her daze. She shook her head and laughed. “Sorry,” she said, “just faded out for a second.”
Drew put his elbows on the table, propped his chain in his hands, and grinned at her, eager to help, which surprised her after his furious reaction to Madison. According to Piaget, nine-year-olds were in the phase of concrete operations: Drew could reason abstractly and anticipate consequences. He could use deductive reasoning. She didn’t feel that she was using any reasoning at all, just flailing around by instinct.
“Ask her if she remembers me,” he said.
“Do you remember him?” Lacey said obediently.
“I should go wait in the car. Madison’ll worry if she doesn’t see me.”