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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

A car pulled up behind me, an old butter-yellow Mercedes. In the air, the smell of fried food – Davis and I had once dreamed of converting a diesel Mercedes to run on biodiesel, used cooking oil, free from restaurants. A woman climbed out of the driver’s side, graceful and lithe. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, falling down her back, stick straight. Her cheekbones were high, her boobs perky, and her arms annoyingly taut. She wore black spandex pants and a loose black tank over a hot-pink sports bra – the kind of woman for whom ‘athleisure’ was invented. What did she want?

‘You okay?’ she asked, eyes scrunching up with concern. ‘Do you need help?’

Her words made tears prick my eyes. I needed more help than she could possibly know. Quickly, I shut the door as Dusty whined. ‘It was just a deer,’ I managed. ‘It surprised me, but I’m fine.’ Before she could say anything else, I was back in my car, shifting into drive.

In the rearview mirror, I saw her, eyes locked straight ahead – watching to make sure I was okay, or watching me? She was still following when I reached the farmhouse, the one the agent had told me to look out for. It was gorgeously decrepit, with red siding, peeling white trim, and a sloping roof whose edges sharpened to a point. I passed it, watching as the woman turned into the driveway – my new neighbor.

I inched down the road but didn’t see another house, only a meadow on one side and fat-leaved trees on the other. I pulled over, checking the rearview once again. I grabbed my phone. Its SIM card had been replaced yesterday, but the screen was shattered – it would take at least a hundred dollars to fix it. I opened my new email, keying in my password and finding the response from the agent, Jennifer Moon, whose email signature featured two colors and a swirling font.

Hi Lucy! Thanks for your quick reply. I’m so thrilled you’ll be renting the cottage, and yes, cash payment is just fine! Your little blue house is JUST AFTER the red farmhouse, with a small porch facing the driveway. This is your new HOME! The key is in the lockbox, code 3321. Welcome!

Gravel ground beneath the wheels as I jerked back onto the road. My dad would have freaked that I’d bought the Accord from a guy on Craigslist, handing over a precious three thousand in cash for a key on a ‘Miami, Florida’ key ring. He’d panic at this whole plan of mine. Of course, if he were around, I wouldn’t need one. He and my mom would be my plan.