So she did two things in a row. First, she asked for details. Second, she told Sherri she would be more than happy to babysit her daughter the Monday evening after the holiday weekend. And then she did something else, brought on by—oh, who knew. Brought on by Caitlin’s vainglorious posture, by the fake apology, or maybe by the very simple fact of being in a different city, over the state line, with the rest of the day spread out in front of her, as unfilled as a blank notebook. She kept her body turned away from Caitlin and she texted Cam Hartwell to see what he was up to that night.

Immediately after she sent the text, three dots appeared, then the text itself.

Got plans. Against her will—she didn’t care, truly she didn’t, why should she care about someone she hardly knew, and anyway that kiss in his driveway was just a kiss, nothing more—she deflated.

Another text plopped onto the screen.

The plans are with you, it said. I’ll call you later with the details.

“What are you smiling about?” asked Caitlin.

“Nothing,” said Alexa bitchily. Now she wasn’t even mad about what had happened in March; she was much more irritated about the ruse Caitlin used to draw her closer before inserting the knife. She put her phone down and said, “You’re missing an earring.”

Caitlin’s panicked hand rose, found a hoop in each ear.

“Not that one. Third hole up. The little diamonds? The ones you got for your birthday? One of those is gone.”

Alexa rose from the table, deposited her dishes into the correct bin, and escorted herself out of the restaurant before Caitlin had a chance to find out if Alexa was lying.

22.

Sherri

Sherri climbed the stairs to Katie’s room carrying a basket of laundry that she’d just dried at, yes, the Laundromat.

The door to Katie’s room was closed, and Sherri put down the basket of laundry to open it. They weren’t a doors-closed sort of household, especially now that it was just the two of them. Sherri had always prided herself on her openness with Katie, on using the anatomically correct terms when referring to body parts, both male and female, and if Katie should ask her any questions about sex, Sherri was going to tell her everything she knew. Which, admittedly, was far less than you could find out online these days. But Sherri would do her best.

“What are you doing up here, sweetheart?” she asked, as she was opening the door.

“Mom!” cried Katie, and almost immediately after that, “Nothing!” She was lying on the bed, holding something, and whatever it was she was holding she shuttled swiftly under her bottom. She lay there stiffly, staring at the ceiling, like a corpse awaiting the attentions of an undertaker.