“What does your shirt say?” Cole asks.
Leah puts one hand on her hip and bends down. “They say shalom, which is the Hebrew word for peace.”
“And hello,” Ava says, jutting out one tiny hip and flipping her long, dark hair.
Leah laughs. “And goodbye, too.”
Daisy waves a bottle of champagne.
“Guess who just sold the Beckerman house?”
I turn to Ava. “Honey, can you take Cole upstairs and help him change out of his dress? Cole, can you please put on a proper shirt?”
This time, he doesn’t resist.
“But don’t hurry,” Daisy says, patting Ava on the head as she waltzes by. “The mommies need to drink this first.”
Ava runs off, and Daisy pops the champagne, letting out a whoop. “Thought I would never sell that damn house. It’s been on the market since mid-June.”
Leah grabs two coffee mugs, fills them, and hands one to Daisy and one to me. My phone beeps with an incoming text. When I see it’s from Madeline, my chest tightens. I open my messages, holding my breath. I may be about to learn who Paul Adamson’s wife is. A part of me thinks I will be looking at a familiar face, like Vicki’s. But when I read the message, all it says is that Madeline asked her mother, who promised she would look through her old garden club newsletters tonight.
I put the phone down.
“Everything all right?” Leah asks.
I stretch my lips into a tight smile and reach for my mug of champagne.
“We’re keepin’ it classy, right?” Daisy giggles.
I sip at mine, aware that I am getting buzzed. I don’t want to be drunk at International Night, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I loved how the cool, sparkling bubbles soothe my throat.
Leah juts her chin at me, a sad smile on her face. “How are you holding up, Allie? Doing okay?”
I shake my head. “Not really.” I haven’t told them about the police homing in on me as a suspect.
She refills my mug. “What’s going on?”
I look at these two women, wondering how much to tell them. I am tempted to shut down, pull into my shell like a turtle. But I need support now; I can’t handle this latest bombshell on my own. And Daisy and Leah are real friends. They have been nothing but empathic.
Daisy frowns. “Not another online thing, is it?”
I shake my head. She places one soft hand over mine. The heat from her body radiates through me, uncorking all my bottled-up feelings. “Mark hired a private detective to follow me, and I don’t know why. I would tell him anything he wanted to know, so why would he do that? It makes no sense to me.”
They both step closer to me and hug me at the same time. I feel the tears come to my eyes and blink them away. I’m just glad Cole is upstairs with Ava and can’t see me lose it like this.
“How did you find out?” Daisy asks.
“I found an envelope with pictures,” I say, careful to leave Dustin’s involvement out of my explanation. “I thought someone had been following me.”
Leah squeezes my shoulder. “Do you think it’s because of the whole Rob Avery thing? Like maybe he’s trying to clear your name?”
“Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.” I straighten up so her hand falls back. The idea cheers me up a bit. Maybe that’s what it is, an effort to exonerate me. But if that’s the case, why not tell me?
“Did you ever go to the police?” Daisy asks. “About the harassment?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “They were zero help. Told me to stay off screens and go ride a bike.”
“Super helpful,” Daisy chortles.
“Dustin was right about them—totally useless.” I tip my coffee mug toward Leah.
“Dustin?” She snaps her head back and wrinkles her nose. “When were you talking to my son?”
I clear my throat, my antennae on alert. “The other day. He must have heard us talking in your kitchen. He said the police wouldn’t be able to help me.”
“But let me guess: He said he could?” Leah’s lower lip twitches.
“He did offer.”
“But you said no, right?” Leah’s voice has an insistent edge to it.
I look to Daisy for guidance, but she’s picking crumbs of shortbread off the counter with her thumb.
“Right.” I cradle the mug in my hand, unable to meet Leah’s intense gaze.
“Good,” Leah says. Her emphatic response makes me question whether hiring him was the right move. No, I tell myself, he’s already produced some good information. Even if he is a little off, he knows what he’s doing.
Daisy reaches across Leah and pops another piece of shortbread in her mouth.
“Stop it.” Leah slaps Daisy’s hand. “Allie worked hard on those.” At the same time, Cole runs in, having traded in his pink tulle gown for his dinosaur pajama shirt.
“Mommy didn’t bake those,” Cole says. “Susan did. Mommy can’t bake.”
“My mommy is a really good baker,” Ava says.
I wince inwardly. No matter how much I do, it never feels like enough. Daisy gives me a sympathetic look. We pack everything up, grab our coats, and usher the kids outside. Leah and Ava climb into their car across the street. I shudder in the cool air. The temperatures are supposed to dip below freezing tonight for the first time this fall. Daisy starts to place the trays of shortbread in the front seat, but when she sees the banker’s box full of my things from work, she heads to the trunk. I’m grateful she does not ask any questions.
“See you at school,” Leah calls through her open car window as she drives by. Ava sticks her arm out the back window and waves.
I buckle Cole into his car seat, then go to help Daisy make room in the trunk for the cookie trays.
“So glad I don’t have to do any of this elementary school crap anymore. Listen.” She fixes her bright blue eyes on me. “Please tell me that you didn’t hire Dustin.”
I don’t answer. I can’t even meet her eyes.
“Oh,
