The Thinnest Air by Kent Minka

Author:Kent, Minka
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503953406
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

GREER

Day Six

I think it’s weird that his kids came to stay, but I suppose Andrew’s ex couldn’t be bothered with adjusting her schedule to accommodate her former husband’s missing wife.

Isabeau sits at the head of the kitchen table, shoving spoonful after spoonful of Cocoa Puffs into her mouth as her eyes are focused on the small TV screen under the kitchen cabinets currently blasting an obnoxious cartoon likely meant for children a fraction of her age.

I’ve only met the children a handful of times . . . the wedding, a couple of visits here and there . . . and Meredith always spoke fondly of them. I know she said it was rough that first year, getting them to warm up to her, but she persisted.

At least that’s what she claimed.

I’m feeling like I don’t know anything anymore.

“How are you doing, Isabeau?” I ask, wiping down the spilled splash of milk on the counter from when she prepared her cereal lunch. “I know this must be a scary time for you.”

Her dead eyes move from the TV screen to me. Her chubby jaw works the crunchy cereal.

“Mom said she’s probably dead,” she says. “Dad probably paid someone to do it.”

I drop the dish towel in my hand. It lands at my feet. “Why would your mother say that?”

“I heard her on the phone with my Aunt Lisa.” She takes another spoonful, losing a few cereal pieces as she shovels it into her mouth.

As tempting as it is, I don’t pry. She’s in junior high. She doesn’t know anything about anything, and it’s possible she misinterpreted whatever speculative drivel was coming out of her mother’s Angelina Jolie–size lips.

“How is your mother, anyway?” I ask, feigning interest.

Isabeau rolls her eyes. “Like you care.”

I lift a brow. “I’m just wondering what she thinks about all of this . . . is she sad? Worried?”

Andrew’s daughter laughs, her braces covered in chocolate. “Seriously? My mom can’t stand Meredith. Nobody likes her. Not even my dad sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re always fighting,” she says. “They think I can’t hear them, but my room is right down the hall. I hear everything.”

“Fighting about what?” I move from around the island, taking a seat at the table next to her.

“Who knows?” She seems annoyed by my close proximity. Typical thirteen-year-old. “I don’t listen. I only hear them yelling and stuff.”

My chin juts forward. I can’t imagine Meredith yelling. She’s the chillest, calmest person in the world. Very seldom has she ever let anything rattle her to the point of throwing a tantrum.

The fridge door opens and slams behind me. I turn and see Calder grab a bottle of Evian and twist the cap.

“You know she’s fucking with you, right?” he asks, taking a drink, and I wonder how it is he swears so naturally at such a young age.

Isabeau shoots him a look. I take it they don’t get along.

“She’s a compulsive liar,” he says. “She made all that shit up. Don’t ever believe anything she says.

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