BooksBarbecue
Back The Second Home
Chapters (47)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraphs
  5. Prologue
  6. Part One
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. Part Two
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. Acknowledgments
  46. About the Author
  47. Newsletter Sign-up

Everywhere he looked he saw evidence of a human being who ate, slept, flossed her teeth, and clipped her toenails just like anyone else. It was strange after all these years to stand in the same spot where she showered, sink into the same comfortable chairs she sank into, to eat his cereal out of the same bowl she’d used. He could smell her shampoo in the pillows. He stumbled across her box of tampons in the medicine cabinet. The nightstand drawer next to the bed was filled with lip gloss and ponytail holders.

Once, he found one of her earrings on the floor, and left it for her in a small bowl on the kitchen table. It was gone the next time he stayed there. That was their first real act of communication.

The Post-its marked ANN’S that Ann had affixed to half the cabinets and drawers were starting to fade and lose their adhesive. It was hard for Michael to avoid these forbidden spaces. Late at night, he couldn’t help himself. He’d open her closet and see her sweaters, T-shirts, and running clothes stacked neatly on the back shelves. He opened a drawer in Ann’s dresser and pulled out her bra. He ran his fingers over the soft satin cups and fingered the discreet lace on the straps. It was the kind of bra a woman wore not for herself, but for someone else. Who saw it on her? Did she have a boyfriend? Did she bring him here? Did they make love in the same bed he slept in?

He held the bra up to his nose and inhaled her still-familiar scent. He knew she hated him, and he resented her, so why was he smelling her damn bra? He stuffed it back in the drawer where he found it, feeling like a seventeen-year-old kid again. He told himself for the hundredth time that he ought to start dating again even if the inventory on the Cape was severely limited.

But Ann, still tempting and illicit, was everywhere he looked, like an invasive species. She took root in every drawer, cabinet, towel, pillow, and book. It made him mad, horny, frustrated. He couldn’t stand it. It didn’t help that Avery couldn’t stop asking about the mystery woman, this strange poltergeist who changed things around when they were gone. Is she pretty? she asked. How old is she? Is she nice? Why do you share the house with her? How come we don’t ever see her? Who is she?