Family Law by Gin Phillips

Author:Gin Phillips [Phillips, Gin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

IV.

Lucia pulled into Rachel’s driveway, stopping just past the sidewalk. The front curtains were drawn, and she couldn’t see any lights, but both cars were parked in the garage. Her watch confirmed that it wasn’t quite 6:00 p.m., so unless Rachel and her mother ate early—which seemed unlikely given Rachel’s leisurely evening visits—she wouldn’t be interrupting supper. She wouldn’t have been forced to stop by unexpectedly if only someone would have answered the phone. She’d called half a dozen times since Rachel had left her house, and no one ever picked up. Weren’t they ever home?

Well, they were home now.

She walked up the cobblestones toward the front door, the rosebushes snagging her skirt. Ivy clung to the stonework, and she had to nudge the leaves aside to ring the doorbell. As she waited, she pulled a soggy advertisement for lawn service from the storm door. She was reaching for the doorbell again when the doorknob turned. The door made an unsettling sucking sound as it swung partially open. As Lucia was wondering whether anyone ever used this entrance, Margaret stepped into view, a ring of keys in her hand. She kept hold of the door, blocking the view of the room behind her.

“Hello, Lucia,” she said.

She did not offer any invitations.

“Margaret,” Lucia said, “I’m sorry to bother you. But I was wondering about Rachel. I wanted to make sure she was all right. I’ve called—”

“When?”

“Excuse me?”

“When did you call?”

“Today. Yesterday. The day before.”

Margaret let her hand fall and the door inched open. Lucia could see white carpet and stiff-backed chairs covered in pale green velvet. Figurines on a glossy end table. It seemed like the sort of living room that no one ever sat in.

“I see,” Margaret said, and her voice was like a stranger’s. Formal. “We’ve been having dinner with my sister these last few nights. I’m sorry you went out of your way to stop by, but this saves me a phone call myself, really. I’d prefer you not see Rachel anymore.”

“What?” Lucia asked. “Is she okay? She said nothing was—”

Margaret shifted her keys, rattling them against her thigh.

“She’s not hurt. But she’s a mess. Poor thing, she stayed in the shower for nearly an hour last night, just paralyzed. She does that when she’s scared.”

No, thought Lucia. You do that when you’re scared, like when you thought Rachel’s Key Club adviser had invited your ex-husband to the Christmas party. Rachel stays in the shower when she’s pissed off at you, and she collects all the stray hairs and stuffs them down the drain and hopes that the pipes will back up, and it worked at least once after you told her she was getting heavy through the hips, because you had to call the plumber.

“I hate that she was at the house when it happened,” Lucia said. “I hate that it happened, but I especially hate that she was there.”

“Someone shoots a gun into your house,” Margaret said, “a millimeter from her head, nearly killing her, and

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