“Everything’s on target.” Kristi kicked out a chair at her café table and sat down. “How about with you?”

“Good.”

Time to cut out the crap. “So why’s Dad in L.A.?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t really say,” Olivia admitted, “but it seemed like something he had to do.” Her voice faded for a moment, as if she were looking away from the phone. Kristi’s heart began to drum as she anticipated what was to come: that her father and Olivia were getting a divorce. “He didn’t tell you about it?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. Just some BS about old cases in L.A. and that he’d be back soon. It all seemed bogus and I was wondering what was going on. Thought maybe there was something wrong between you.”

A beat. No answer. Kristi’s heart hit the floor.

“Your dad…he’s struggled since the accident. Can’t stand sitting around here, so I think he needed to do something to give himself a new perspective or…think things through.”

“What things?” Kristi asked cautiously. There was an undercurrent to this conversation she didn’t understand.

“I’m not sure. I don’t even think he knows, but when he does, I’m sure he’ll tell us.”

I wouldn’t bet on it.

“Anyway, I was calling to see if you wanted to get dinner sometime, or coffee? Maybe the next time you’re in New Orleans.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t as if Olivia hadn’t tried to bridge the whole stepmother gap with her before. They’d done some things together, but usually Dad was along. This was a little out of the ordinary. “I’m coming down in about a week,” Kristi offered.

“Then let’s make a date. If your dad’s back, maybe we’ll let him join us.” She paused a second, then added, “But maybe not.”

“You got it.” Kristi hung up. If your dad’s back, Olivia had said. So she was in the dark, too. Kristi didn’t like it. Whatever her father was going through, it wasn’t good.

After a long day of classes Laney Springer threw her books onto the tiny café table one of her roommates had donated to the cause of their shared apartment. God, it had been a day from hell, starting with Professor Williams’s dullsville lecture on the Korean War. Why she’d ever thought Modern History: American Politics in the Twentieth Century would be an interesting way to fill her schedule was beyond her. Thankfully, the semester was wrapping up. Professor Williams would soon be history—literally.

She walked to the refrigerator and peeked inside. The contents were pathetic: dried-out pizza in its box, the pieces of pepperoni already picked off. A bag of celery was turning brown beside some half-drunk bottles of Diet Pepsi.

Gross.