The Day She Died by S.M. Freedman

Author:S.M. Freedman [Freedman, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Thrillers / Psychological
ISBN: 9781459747425
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2021-04-27T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

Eve’s Sixteenth Birthday

“WHAT’S THAT SMELL?”

Leigh pushed through the kitchen door as though it was still something he did every day, causing Eve to jump and drop the spatula she’d been holding.

His hair was cut short, with stiff spikes gelled up at the front. He wore track pants and a tank top, which showed off a V of golden chest hair. Most dismaying was the baby caterpillar crawling across his upper lip.

“Who do you think you are, Tom Selleck?” She bent to pick up the spatula and dump it in the sink.

He stroked his moustache self-consciously, then leaned against the door. Wrinkling his nose, he said, “Seriously, what are you making?”

“It’s supposed to be linguini. But I think it’s going to end up being garbage.”

“Oh. It smells good.”

Wiping sweat off her face with a dishcloth, she said, “I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He grinned. “Fine, it smells like farts.”

“When did you get in?” She moved to him without thought, but stopped while there was still several feet between them.

“Late last night,” he said. “Mom picked me up.”

“You didn’t call.” Eve winced at the plaintive tone in her voice. Clearing her throat, she added, “I didn’t think you were coming this year.”

“Neither did I until I got on the plane.”

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I have a paper due on Friday, so I need to get back.”

“Short trip,” she said, trying to hide the mixture of relief and disappointment in her voice.

“Are you coming to the celebration my parents are having this evening?”

“No.”

As though she hadn’t spoken, he said, “They’re releasing balloons from the pier at dusk. It seems kind of stupid to me, but I’m not going to tell them that. We all have to do whatever we can to get through the day.”

“I can’t go,” she said through numb lips.

“Do you know what people think, when you’re not there?”

“I don’t care what people think.”

“Do you care what they say?” he asked.

“Just what do they say?”

He gave her a pointed look, as though she should know perfectly well what people were saying. She did know, and it didn’t help that they were right.

Motioning to the sink where Donna’s good stockpot sat smoldering, he said, “That doesn’t look good.”

She was grateful for the change of subject. “I didn’t put enough water in with the noodles. I think the pot is ruined. Donna is going to be pissed.”

“What else is new. Is she home?” The question was asked far too casually.

She debated not answering, but only for a moment. “She and Button are out getting the cake. I said I’d make dinner.”

“How long do you think they’ll be gone?” She knew the look in his eyes very well.

“I need to start dinner from scratch.”

“This is salvageable. Do you have more noodles?”

“No.”

He pulled the lid off the pot of sauce that sat bubbling on the stovetop and then quickly dropped it back in place, recoiling from the pungent steam that fogged up around his face.

“What the hell is that?”

She put her hands on her hips.

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