“Is, uh . . . everything okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her mom runs her hand over the column of buttons, then folds her hands at her waist. She smiles at Olivia. “I’m fine, darling. Yesterday was just a . . .” Her hand flutters in the air. “Blip.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Olivia’s phone vibrates. She reads the text from Amber. Now?
“Sorry, have to respond. It’s my editor.” The lie sours in her mouth like a green apple–flavored hard candy.
Yes. She quickly types. Call the landline. Charlotte will have to leave the door to answer the phone.
It rings in the kitchen. Charlotte glances over her shoulder into the belly of the house. She starts to close the door but Olivia steps into the house. “Go ahead and get that. I have to use the bathroom.”
She lightly touches her lips and glances back toward the bedrooms and Olivia thinks she’ll ignore the call, but Charlotte sighs dramatically.
“All right. Make it quick. I have . . . an appointment.”
“Thanks.” Olivia walks briskly toward the guest bathroom. When Charlotte disappears into the kitchen, she veers into the bedroom wing and Dwight’s office. The surveillance system monitor and keyboard are in the closet, but she goes for the computer on his desk first.
“Amber, it’s been a long time. How’ve you been? How’s the new house?” Olivia hears Charlotte exclaim from the kitchen as she returns the Rolodex to its spot, aligning the base inside the square free of dust on Dwight’s desk. Settling into his chair, she plugs her thumb drive into the USB port and powers on the computer.
She glances at the time as the computer wakes. “Keep on talking, Amber,” she murmurs. When the prompt appears, she types the same password Dwight has used since she was in high school and she helped him set up his new desktop. With every computer upgrade, he always reverted to the same: Princ3ssO*
Bless her daddy for always cutting corners to make his life simpler. She scoots forward and gets to work.
“I know of the perfect property for you.” Charlotte’s voice carries down the hallway. She sounds closer, as if she’s poking her head out of the kitchen, wondering what’s taking Olivia so long in the bathroom.
“Stay in the kitchen,” she whispers, exporting Dwight’s contacts.
The musical lilt Charlotte gets in her voice with the prospect of a new deal trickles down the hallway like a bubbling brook. Olivia tries not to feel too bad that she’s playing her mom while she copies over the photo file from fourteen years ago. She reasons she’s doing her mom a favor. Talking about Lily heightens Charlotte’s anxiety. Best she doesn’t know what Olivia’s up to. She doesn’t want to cause her mom further worry.
“Why don’t you come into my office tomorrow? Does ten in the morning work for you?”
Olivia removes her drive. Before she can slide open the closet door to access the surveillance, a door down the hall, in the opposite direction of her mom, slams. Her head snaps in that direction. The hell? That came from her parents’ bedroom.
Her arms start to tingle with fresh perspiration. She didn’t think Dwight was home. Lucas would have texted her.
If that idiot forgot . . .
Olivia powers down Dwight’s computer, and with one look back to check that she left everything in order, she walks toward her parents’ room. If her dad’s home, where’s his car? He always parks in the drive. Unless . . .
Does Charlotte have company? Is she cheating on Dwight?
“That was your friend Amber,” Charlotte says from the other end of the hallway.
Olivia yelps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Don’t do that. Seriously.” She gasps. “You scared me.”
“What were you doing?” Charlotte looks past her.
“I was checking on a noise.” She gestures at the bedroom door.
“Hmm. Not sure what you heard. No one else here but me.”
“I wasn’t thinking . . .” Her face heats. Okay. She was. Maybe her mom is lonely. That’s something she can understand. Dwight’s away more than he’s home, and they don’t get along.
Olivia smiles awkwardly, feeling sorry for her mom. Her husband is negligent, possibly abusive, and she lost a daughter. Charlotte starts backing away into the foyer. “So, Amber. She’s looking to invest in some property.”
“She mentioned that last night.” Olivia doesn’t meet her mom’s eyes. Charlotte finds the prospect of helping Amber exciting and Olivia resists confessing it’s a ruse, especially after all her mom has been through.
“I’m glad she called you,” she says with forced enthusiasm.
“Me too. I have the perfect place in mind. A cute little beach cottage that’ll make a killing as an Airbnb.” As she’s talking, Charlotte’s gaze wanders to Olivia’s noticeably less bulky hobo purse. Olivia’s stomach sours with guilt. She tucks the purse behind her arm.
“I should go. I’m glad you’re feeling better today.”
“I am. Thanks for checking on me.” She smiles and opens the front door. Olivia steps outside into the bluebird-sky morning. “Oh, is . . . Josh . . . is he still with you?”
Olivia turns around. “Yes. He’s in the car. Why?”
“I was wondering if you’ve located Lily yet.”
She shakes her head. “I’m trying, Mom. Anything you know of that can help me out? Did Dad tell you anything?”
Her expression draws a blank. “I already told you. He hasn’t. We don’t talk about Lily.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll call you later.”
“Of course, darling. Have a good day.” Charlotte shuts and bolts the door.
Olivia texts her thanks to Amber, then notices a silver Audi parked across the street. She glances back at the house, wondering who the car belongs to. If she didn’t suspect what she does about Dwight, she’d be livid over Charlotte’s hypocrisy. But as her view of her dad has changed, so has that of her mom. She’s starting to see her in a new light. Charlotte should divorce Dwight. He doesn’t respect her at all, and she’s done so much for their family, especially him. All those years she helped him with his campaigns, organizing fundraisers, traveling door-to-door with the flyers she designed and ordered.
“Hey, Josh,” she says when she gets into the car and starts the engine.
He sets aside his phone and rubs his eyes. Olivia’s noticed he can only spend so much time working on the aphasia apps before he loses focus or his eyes tire.
“Ready?” he asks.
“In a bit.” She drags out her laptop and plugs in the drive, hopeful he’s kept it updated. It doesn’t take long to realize Dwight’s contacts are a bust. He doesn’t have Lily’s address, at least not on file. She jabs her elbow against the door, frustrated. Josh watches her, wary.
“Hey, Josh, anything you remember about your address would be a huge help,” she says, scrolling through the contacts a second time on the off chance she missed something.
He points out the windshield. “It’s like . . . that . . . big . . .”
“Like what?”
“That.”
She looks out the window to the small grove of eucalyptus trees behind the house. The treetops peek over the roofline.