I jumped and spun around. She stood in the doorway to what used to be my bedroom, dressed in beige, linen slacks and a white blouse tucked in. Her strawberry-blonde hair was coifed, her face void of any line or physical imperfection.

“Mom.”

A delicate eyebrow arched. “Your stuff is in the attic if that is what you’re here for. We had the help move it up there after I spoke with you in the fall.”

“You forgot my birthday,” I blurted out.

She tilted her head to the side in a smooth, elegant movement. “We did?”

I stared at her a moment and all I could think was what a bitch. Anger rose, but I pushed it down. Anger got you nowhere with Mrs. Morgansten. You had to beat her at her own game—stay calm, stay collected. “I’m not here for my stuff.”

“Are you here to move back in?” she asked, and she didn’t sound hopeful. She sounded like nothing. I wondered if she got plastic surgery for her voice. It was as expressive as her face.

“No.” I almost snorted. “I’m here to talk to you and Dad. Is he home?”

She didn’t answer immediately. “He’s out on the veranda.”

Most folk would call that a covered porch, but not Mom. “Well, let’s go.”

Not waiting for an answer, I brushed past her and headed downstairs. She trailed slightly behind and I could feel her eyes boring into the back of me. I started counting. I made it to five and the bottom step before she opened her mouth.

“Have you’ve gotten a haircut recently?”

“No.”

There was a slight huff. “I can tell.”

I sighed. “Then why did you ask?”

Mom didn’t respond until we reached the den that led out to the porch. “What are you wearing by the way?”

“Thrift store shit,” I replied, even though that wasn’t true.

She tasked softly. “Very nice, Avery.”

I rolled my eyes as I pushed open the door, half tempted to race back through the house and start rolling around on all the white furniture. Dad was sitting on one of the chaise lounges, reading a newspaper. Before I could open my mouth, Mom did.

“Look who decided to pay us a visit.”

Dad lowered the newspaper as he looked up. Surprised flickered across his face. “Avery.”

“Hey, Dad.”

Sitting up, he folded the newspaper and placed it aside. “We weren’t expecting you.”

No ‘how have you’ve been’ or ‘happy to see you.’ I sat in one of the wicker chairs. “I know. I’m not going to be here for long.”

“She wants to talk to us.” Mom remained standing. “I cannot fathom what it could be about, but there is a rental in the driveway and there’s a boy in the car.”

I ignored that comment. “This has nothing to do with the rental or who is in the car.”