The Children (23 page)

“Hey, Laurel,” I said. “How are you this morning? Did you stay up as late as the rest of them?”

“No, I think we went up around two. What a fun night, though.”

“Yeah? Did you have a good time?”

“I had a GREAT time,” said Laurel.

“I'm so glad.” She looked like a little girl in her cotton nightgown. I gave her a quick hug. “Sit down. I'll make some coffee.”

“Let me make it. Maybe I'll make some eggs, too. I know Spin'll be down soon—he's in the shower. He's a little hungover.”

“Well, you don't look so bad.”

“I didn't drink much. I just got such a nice feeling from all your friends, Spin's friends. Everett took a bunch of us out on his boat.”

“A bunch of you?” Everett's boat is an aluminum dinghy with a small outboard motor. He just uses it for fishing. It really isn't meant to hold more than three adults. “Well, as long as you all made it back to shore.”

Spin walked into the kitchen, doing a sort of Frankenstein imitation. He was stomping along, straight-legged, with his arms out in front of him.

“HEELP MEEE!” he cried. He sat at the table and put his face in his hands. He pulled Laurel onto his lap and she started kissing his head very tenderly.

“Poor baby, do you have headache?”

“Just a little one,” he whispered.

“What can I get you, baby? What would make you feel better?” she murmured.

“A full body transplant. I need a different body.”

“I'm making breakfast. You need to eat something, Spin,” I said.

I kept glancing out the window at Everett's. He usually likes to swim off a hangover, but it looked like he was still sleeping.

By the time I had cooked the breakfast, Joan had come down.

“Where's Sally?” she asked.

“I don't know, her car's not here.”

“She gave that guy Fuentes a ride home,” Laurel said.

This was interesting. I knew Joan liked Fuentes as much as I did, so I gave her a little smile, but she seemed worried.

“I hope she's okay. I hope she wasn't too drunk to drive.”

And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than Sally strode into the kitchen, still wearing the clothes she'd had on the night before.

“Who was too drunk to drive?” she demanded.

“Oh, there you are,” Joan said.

I was dying to know what had happened, but knew she wouldn't tell me until we were alone.

“What?” she said to all of us.

“Nothing. Sit down, eat,” I said.

After breakfast, Laurel and Spin were getting their stuff organized. Joan went out for her run, and I followed Sally into the music room.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“Nothing,” she said. She was setting up her recording equipment. “I drove him to Ramón's, and when I stopped in front of his house, he hopped out of the car and said good-bye. I was laughing. I had thought we were on the same page; I wanted to get some Washington Fuentes action. But he seemed like he wasn't interested. He came and stood by the car window, said how much he had enjoyed the party. I finally said, ‘Cut the crap. Can't I come in?' He said, ‘Sure, if you're too tired to drive, come in.' He set me up in one of the little nieces' rooms. It was adorable; I was surrounded by stuffed animals. I actually slept, Lottie. I slept really well. When I woke up this morning, he was still sleeping, so I left.”

She was tuning her violin. “Man, I did a number on this last night. I called in a few favors from some of the bluegrass boys. Rick Cohen's coming over with his bass, and he's also trying to find a kettledrum for Everett to play. He knows somebody with a fucking kettledrum. I mean, who knows somebody with a kettledrum? Spin said that's what I need for this part of the score, and he's so right. He's going to play some really beautiful Spanish-sounding guitar. We're going to do a thing we worked out last night. Each night this week, I've got somebody coming. I can record everybody, then mix it and have the sample ready for the director by Friday.”

“That's so great, Sally,” I said.

She had stopped all her messing around with the instruments and said to me, “I wonder why he didn't want to have sex last night?”

“Were you drunk?”

“No, he wouldn't have let me drive if I had been. He seemed tipsier than I was.”

“I don't know,” I said. And I didn't.

*   *   *

I wandered over to see why Everett hadn't come out yet. He always wakes up early, even if he'd been partying heavily the night before. I tapped on his screen door and called in to him.

“Hey, babe,” he called back. “I'm in bed. Come here.”

The house was completely dark. I opened the kitchen shades and saw a couple of beer bottles in the sink. I walked into his bedroom and found him in bed, facing the wall.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I said. “What happened to you?”

He just made a groaning sound.

“Laurel and Spin are leaving soon. Get up so you can say good-bye, Ev.”

I turned to leave and he said, “Lottie?”

“Yeah?”

“C'mere.”

“Everett, no, really, not now.”

“Baby, I just want to hold you. Please? Please come here?”

He was still facing the wall. I walked over to the bed and sat down. He rolled over, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me down next to him, spooning me. I felt his lips on the back of my neck. He was breathing hard and holding me so tight.

“Babe?” I said. “Ev? What's wrong?”

“Don't leave me,” he whispered. “Don't ever tell me you want to leave me.”

“What? Leave you?”

His breathing sounded halting. I could tell he was crying. I tried to turn over so I could see his face, but he wouldn't let me. He held me tight. “Lottie, I'm sorry.”

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

“You know why. I'm just sorry. I've been taking you for granted. I'm sorry. I'll be better. I'll be better to you. Just don't ever leave me.”

“Everett, baby, I won't. Why are you so upset? What is it? Is it because Spin's getting married?”

He didn't answer right away, but then he said, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh, Ev, you know I love you,” I said. “I won't leave you.” I turned to kiss him. It seemed to me that some very steamy sex was called for, but he held me to him.

“Just let me hold you.”

“Okay,” I said.

We lay there for about twenty minutes or so, and then we heard Spin's Jeep drive off.

“Wait. I hope they didn't leave without saying good-bye. C'mon, Everett, get up.”

“Okay, I'll come over in a few. I'm gonna go for a swim,” he said.

*   *   *

Spin's Jeep was gone, but he was in the kitchen, having coffee with Sally.

“Where's Laurel?” I asked.

“She ran off to get some things at the pharmacy,” Spin said. He seemed agitated. I thought it was his hangover, but then he said, “Sally, this is not your business. You really need to let this go.”

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Spin just told me that he and Laurel aren't planning on having a prenup.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, that really isn't our business, Sal.”

“Thanks, Lottie,” Spin said. He started to stand, but Sally grabbed his hand.

“Please, Spin, listen to me for one minute. I just don't understand how Jim Haskell—isn't Jim the lawyer for the trust? I don't get why he isn't insisting you do a prenup. Why you aren't protecting yourself, you know, that's all. I'm just looking out for you. I don't understand why Haskell isn't insisting on it.”

“Oh, well, let me explain it, then. It's because I'm twenty-six, so I get to make my own decisions about how to live my life. Sally, look, I know you mean well, but you probably think I have a lot more money than I do. I don't have much that isn't … tied up. Laurel has money, too. She has her book deal. We discussed it, and neither of us likes the idea of a prenup.”

“Spin, you won't get the bulk of your inheritance until Joanie dies. Anything that you bring into the marriage is your own money, but anything that you acquire once you're married, well, those become marital assets. Laurel would be entitled to it all. You need to protect that.”

“From what? The woman I'm marrying? Laurel isn't preying on me for my money.”

“So just explain it to her. Tell her that you're just looking out for any children you two might have in the future. Because God forbid something happens to you, Spin. She would likely remarry. Your money, your family's money, could end up in the hands of a future husband, a complete stranger.”

“Laurel would make sure the money went where it was supposed to go.”

I realized that Sally was making some sense. “You really are placing a lot of trust in her, Spin.”

“Yeah, well, my dad placed a lot of trust in your mom,” Spin said, his voice a little lower. “Joan never signed a prenup.”

“But Whit already had come into his money at that point, so she didn't really have a claim to any of it, do you see?” said Sally. “Besides, Joan is from this town. He knew her parents. He knew he could, you know—trust her.”

“Yes, she's always been so trustworthy.”

I don't think I'd ever heard bitterness in Spin's voice until that moment, but it was loud and clear.

“Wait, Spin,” Sally said. “Why are you mad at Joan? She's always loved you—you know that. She's always wanted the best for all of us, you and Perry included.”

“I'm not sure if that's true. I don't think destroying my parents' marriage was the best thing for us.”

“What?” I cried.

I looked out the window to make sure that Joan wasn't jogging up the driveway. Everett was swimming out toward the middle of the lake, but Joan was nowhere to be seen.

“I can't believe you just said that, Spin,” Sally said. “Your parents' marriage was over before Joan and Whit ever got together. I mean, not legally over, but it hadn't been a marriage, from what I've always understood, for a while.”

“Oh, well, I guess my mother didn't know that, or I wouldn't be here, would I?”

“What do you mean?” Sally demanded.

“Come on, don't pretend you never wondered why I was so young when you moved in here.”

“Spin, really, what's the point of going back over this stuff now?” I said quietly.

“Because I'm fucking sick of acting like we're one big happy family. What do you think it was like for me and Perry growing up as occasional guests in our own father's house? A guest in my house. I'm a guest right now, aren't I? In my own house. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Spin, no! You're not a guest. What are you even talking about?” Sally said. “This all has to be coming from Laurel. What has she been saying to you? You've never been like this. What's going on? What has she been brainwashing you with?”

“Laurel? This has nothing to do with Laurel.”

“It has everything to do with her,” Sally said.

“WOULD YOU SHUT UP FOR ONCE?” Spin shouted at Sally.

I burst into tears.

This was so unlike Spin. Sally was actually stunned into silence by his outburst, and he leaned across the table and said, right in Sally's face, “I am so sick of walking on fucking eggshells around you. Pretending that everything is fine, that you're fine. I defend you all the time. Everybody in this town knows you're out of your mind. What do you think it was like for me to go to Holden and hear about the legendary Sally Maynard, my own sister? I thought of you as my sister. I idolized you, and then I found out that you were the fucking whore of Holden.”

Sally lunged at him and started swatting at his face, yelling, “What did you just call me? What—”

I was screaming at both of them, pulling at Spin, when the door flew open.

“What's going on?” Laurel asked. “I heard screaming. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, let's get our stuff.”

Sally and I were trying to hide our tears, but Laurel saw that we were upset and she put her hand on my shoulder and said gently, “Charlotte, what's going on? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“LAUREL!” Spin snapped from the hallway, and she followed him upstairs.

 

NINETEEN

“Did you hear what he called me? Did you hear him call me a whore?”

Sally was whispering in my ear. We were lying together on my bed.

“Yes,” I said. I couldn't stop crying. “I don't understand.”

“I do. It's her. I hate her. I've been onto her from day one.”

“Shhhh, Sally, no, be quiet.”

But she carried on, her voice ranging from a whisper to a near shout and then back to a hoarse whisper.

“I haven't wanted to say anything because I KNOW nobody believes ANYTHING I SAY around here, but I saw who she was from the beginning. You can see that she's empty, there's nothing inside but black. EVEN THE DOGS DON'T SEE HER. It's because she doesn't have a soul. She doesn't have a scent. You can't tell. Most people can't. BUT THE DOGS CAN TELL. SHE DOESN'T HAVE A SMELL. That's how they can tell. How do you think she's been getting texts on her cell phone the whole time she's been here?”

I could hear footsteps out in the hall. This house is so old, you can hear everything. “SHHHHHH, Sally,” I said.

“We don't have cell service on this fucking lake,” Sally said, and now she was laughing, “but her phone lights up day and night with texts. She's on a different web. She's hooked up to the dark web, the deep web, the deep, dark web. I've had to keep my mouth shut this whole time.”

“Those are e-mails, not texts,” I whispered. “She's not getting texts.”

I heard their car doors slam. Sally also heard it, and she jumped up to look out the window.