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Back One White Lie Save as PDF
Chapters (59)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. DEDICATION
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Maggie’s words echoed in my head as I stepped onto Vera’s porch, the planks creaking beneath my weight. The porch lights were muted, one of the bulbs was cracked, and mouse droppings surrounded the front door. I knocked, but nothing happened; after a minute or so, I knocked again. Silence. I peered inside, but it was mostly dark, like no one was home. Squinting, I spotted a chair turned on its side.

What the hell?

I knocked for the third time, waiting, and was about to turn around when the door flew open.

‘Hope you weren’t waiting too long,’ Vera said, looping a bony arm around my shoulders and leading me into a barely lit foyer. ‘I stepped out back to sneak a cigarette. Nasty habit, I know. Then I looked at my phone and realized the time. I’m so sorry. I’m an awful host, aren’t I?’

Without waiting for an answer, she flipped on the lights and released me from her grasp. ‘The electric bills are stupid in an old house, so we try to keep the lights off when we’re not in the room. I like to pretend we’re being old-fashioned and not just cheap.’ She said nothing about the turned-over chair, only knelt down and set it right side up. Then she took my bag and hooked it over a rung, shutting the door behind her without bothering to lock it, a decision that made my insides twist. ‘Anyway, you’re just in time. The lasagna is about to come out of the oven. I hope you’re hungry!’

In the light, I took in the house, large and spacious in all the ways that my cottage was not. A beautiful staircase dominated the foyer, with a living room on one side and a dining room on the other. The smell was strong. Basil and warmth. My mom always made a casserole when it was cold out or I was sick – turkey tetrazzini, my favorite – like her mother had before her and her mother before hers. A whole line of women taking care of each other. A line that had been cut short, the umbilical cord slashed, in an instant – just like that.

I took in Vera, too. She wore a black leotard and a silky charcoal skirt that came down almost to her ankles, an evening take on the athleisure I’d seen earlier. Her feet were sandaled, toenails painted navy blue and slightly chipped. Her ponytail snaked down her back.