Chapter 40

Vivian walked in the front door of the darkened house. She shut off the porch light as she stepped out of her ankle boots, which were no longer brand-new, and were another reminder of Edward’s lies. As if she needed more of those. She hung her coat in the hall closet before heading for the kitchen, flipping the light on as she went to the counter. She was starving. She’d worked for Maria Tomasetti today, because Maria had taken her shifts last Thursday and Friday when Vivian had gone to “Akron.”

The cookie jar stood empty on the counter, with light beige crumbs and pieces of white frosting lining the bottom. Oh, for chrissakes. She’d baked the damned cookies Saturday night, and now they were gone and it wasn’t even Valentine’s Day yet. She looked at the clock above the refrigerator. Twenty after eleven. She heaved a sigh and then spotted something on the counter that hadn’t been there earlier. She leaned closer and saw that it was her old driver’s license.

Vivian inhaled sharply as she picked it up, and her heart began to pound and she felt her bowels loosen and shift. Mildred Fischer. Oh, Jesus Christ, Mildred Fischer was in Wooster. Had she been to the house? How did the driver’s license get there? She caught her reflection in the window over the kitchen sink. She’d kept meaning to put full curtains on that window. She couldn’t see anything but the blackness of night, and she was suddenly aware that anyone outside could see her if they were looking in. She walked quickly back to the light switch and flipped it off, plunging the kitchen into darkness. She let her eyes adjust, and then squinted at the window. All the shadows along the perimeter of the backyard looked like people crouching, lying in wait. Vivian felt like screaming, but the house was quiet and she didn’t want to break the silence.

She climbed the stairs quickly and looked at the door to Charlotte’s room. The light was still on, a slim sliver between the door and the hallway rug.

“Charlotte?” she whispered through the crack in the door.

Charlotte shrieked.

Vivian pushed the door open wide to see Charlotte in her bed, with the covers pulled up beneath her chin, looking like she had just seen a ghost. Or a bat. One time they had a small family of bats in the attic, and Edward had to get after them with a broom.

“Honey, what is it?”

“Oh, Mother,” Charlotte breathed.

“What? What is it, and why is my driver’s license on the counter?” She was concerned about Charlotte’s frightened reaction, of course, but not as much as she was about Mildred Fischer.

“Your license?” Charlotte asked, confused.

She must have been sleeping.

“My driver’s license is sitting on the kitchen counter.”

“Oh. Mrs. Gifford brought it over today. I think it fell out of my book bag.”

“Mrs. Gifford,” Vivian repeated, her voice flat. “Erma Gifford? Your book bag? Why would she . . .”