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  “Yes, he did. He didn’t answer any of my emails or texts, not one. He didn’t call me, not even when I got into National Honor Society.” Megan’s tone stayed matter-of-fact. “You tried to talk to Abby and Victoria, but he didn’t even try to talk to me. He didn’t even answer me, when I tried.”

  “That doesn’t mean he forgot you.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “No, not necessarily,” Jill said, wanting to comfort Megan, even though she could never forgive William for cutting Megan off the way he had. If Jill hated him for one single thing, it was that, and she always would.

  “Then why didn’t he answer my email?”

  Jill tried to think of an honest answer. “Maybe because he couldn’t face his hurt, or yours. We’ll never know now. But I know nobody could forget you. You’re a wonderful, wonderful girl.” Jill patted her leg, and another silence fell. Megan looked out the window again, her head moving slightly with the motion of the car.

  “Look, a padiddle.” Megan pointed at the window. “Remember when we used to play that game in the car, with Abby and Victoria?”

  Jill did. A padiddle was a car with only one headlight, and whoever saw one on the road got a point. “I do remember that, but I don’t see a padiddle.”

  “Look in your mirror. There’s a padiddle behind us, one car back.”

  Jill glanced in the rearview, and a black SUV with one headlight was behind them. She flashed on the scene outside the house last night, when Abby had come staggering down the sidewalk. She’d been visible in the beam from a black SUV, with one headlight. A padiddle. Not that it meant anything. The world was full of black SUVs, with or without headlights, which was why Jill drove a white Volvo.

  “Do you think they think about us, when they play padiddle?”

  “I bet they do.” Jill was remembering that the headlights on the SUV last night were boxy, but all SUVs had boxy headlights. SUVs were boxy, in general. They were practically boxes on wheels.

  “Except they probably don’t play padiddle anymore. They’re too old.”

  “They still might.”

  “I think Abby thinks about us, but Victoria doesn’t, as much. Abby loved us more.” Megan turned back to Jill, her dark eyes troubled. “Victoria doesn’t let herself love people a lot, you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Victoria doesn’t love enough, and Abby loves too much. Isn’t that funny?”

  Jill looked over, impressed. “Well said.”

  “Which is better?”

  “The middle. Let yourself love. Love is good. Just choose the people you love wisely. They have to deserve you.” Jill heard herself pontificating, but she’d learned it the hard way. “You’ll make mistakes, but that’s okay.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, of course, it’s human.”

  “You mean because you can always get a divorce?”

  “Well, yes,” Jill answered, pained. “It’s not ideal, but it’s the best choice, if your marriage is terrible.”

  “Except I didn’t divorce William,” Megan said, again, matter-of-factly. “I didn’t divorce anybody. Neither did Abby or Victoria. The kids don’t get a choice.”

  Jill felt a wave of guilt. “I know, sweetie, and I’m sorry.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’m just saying.”

  “I’m still sorry, for the way it all turned out.”

  “It’s okay.” Megan reached for her phone at the sound of an incoming text.

  “Don’t forget to turn that off at the service.”

  “I won’t.” Megan checked the text, and a new smile flickered across her face.

  “Is that Courtney?”

  “No. A boy.”

  “Really?” Jill brightened, happy to change the subject. “Can I know more?”

  “Well, he’s really cute.” Megan smiled, warming. “He’s in one of the other clubs, the Hornets. He’s one of the fastest freestylers on the team.”

  “Good for him. What’s his name?”

  “Jake Tilson.”

  “Did you start doodling Megan Tilson in your notebook?”

  “No, Mom, you weirdo!” Megan laughed, which was the desired effect.

  “What does he look like?”

  “He has blond hair and it’s curly, and he has blue eyes and he’s a little short but I don’t care. And he’s really cut.”

  Jill laughed. “Everybody’s cut at thirteen.”

  “No, he’s cut, Mom. He’s ripped. He’s shredded. You can see his abs from across the pool. And he plays guitar. Real guitar, not Guitar Hero.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “I’ve seen him at meets but I talked to him at Courtney’s party. He knows her twin brother from swim camp. He friended me after the party, and now we’re texting.”

  Jill felt delighted. Megan needed more fun in her life. “Sounds like a modern romance.”

  “And guess what else?”

  Jill smiled, looking over. “What else?”

  “We kissed!” Megan covered her face with her hands, laughing.

  “Good for you. So, was it fun?” Jill knew this was big news, because Megan hadn’t had a boyfriend yet. She felt happy, and sad, that Megan had her first kiss, but counted herself lucky that Megan was slower than her classmates, judging from the stories she’d heard from other swim moms.

  “No!” Megan slid her hands down, flushed. “It was scary and I was bad at it. He has braces, too. We were like Iron Man!”

  “Aw, no you weren’t.”

  “We were.” Megan moaned. “It’s me. I’m a bad kisser.”

  “You want a tip?”

  “Mom.” Megan recoiled. “It’s not like the backstroke, you can’t teach me.”

  “Why not? Just relax your mouth. Don’t pucker up.”

  “Oh, this is so random.” Megan giggled. “You have to be kidding me, right now.”

  “No, I’m a pretty good kisser. I’ve been kissing boys for a long time. I’ve kissed thousands. Millions.” Jill’s heart eased when Megan giggled again.

  “Stop, no. This is gross.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s okay to like a boy, and it’s okay to kiss a boy, too. Just don’t lose your head.”

  “I won’t, Mom.” Megan snorted. “I’m not Teen Mom.”

  “I know that, but still.” Jill knew that any teen could become Teen Mom.

  “You’re so wacky, Mom.”

  “I know, I get it from you.”

  Megan laughed again, then resumed texting, and Jill hit the gas, keeping her eye on the road. Traffic picked up, and she took the on ramp onto the Schuylkill Expressway with most of the traffic. She checked the padiddle, and it was still back there, behind a white pickup, too far away to tell the make. They reached the West River Drive, and she lost the padiddle in the traffic. The rain finally stopped, and they parked in a garage, where Jill cut the ignition.

  “Remember, stay with me,” Megan said, looking over.

  “I will, don’t worry.” Jill managed a smile, shooing the black SUV out of her mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Jill and Megan got to the church early, entered through the arched doors, and found themselves milling in the back among a small, well-dressed crowd, talking in low tones before they went to their seats. Jill didn’t recognize anyone, which didn’t surprise her, because after the divorce, their few friends had sided with her. She caught a glimpse of a teary Abby, accepting condolences from the guests, standing next to the rector, in his red-and-white vestments.

  “Poor Abby,” she said to Megan.

  “I know, she looks really sad,” Megan whispered back. “I feel so bad for her.”

  “Me, too.” Jill felt a deep pang, seeing how Abby looked, lost and heartbroken in an ethereal boho dress, with heavy makeup. It made her worry about Victoria, whom she couldn’t see through the crowd. “Megs, do you see Victoria?”

  “Yes, you’ll see her when that old lady moves. She’s doing better than Abby. Look,
Mom, she looks so pretty. She got highlights.”

  “Really?” Jill craned her neck and spotted Victoria, standing tall in a black linen dress with pearl drop earrings. Her newly honeyed streaks were pulled back into a sophisticated twist, and her lovely face had elongated as she’d gotten older, enhancing the prominence of her cheekbones. Light, perfect makeup emphasized her hazel eyes, and she projected grace and poise, though she was only twenty-three. Jill felt a bittersweet rush of emotions, feeling love at seeing her again, happy that she’d grown up so well, but loss at all the years they could have been in touch, and pain for how she must be feeling.

  “I think that’s her boyfriend,” Megan whispered, and Jill noticed a tall, good-looking young man in a dark suit and wire-rimmed glasses, who stood behind her.

  “Think she has a boyfriend?”

  “Yes, I see him all the time, on Abby’s Facebook page.”

  Jill blinked, not surprised that Megan was checking Abby’s Facebook page, too. “Let’s find our seats. They’re going to start the service.”

  “Mom, Abby just saw us, she’s coming over.” Megan stiffened. “What do I say to her? I already said I’m sorry.”

  “Say what you feel.” Jill looked over to see Abby walking toward them, wiping a tear from her eye. It struck Jill that no one else was crying, or even upset, except for Abby, and that didn’t surprise her, either. William had lots of acquaintances, but no real friends, which was only one of the red flags Jill had ignored. Love was not only blind, it was colorblind.

  “But what should I say?” Megan asked, worried.

  “You can say you’re sorry again, that would be nice.”

  “Like, ‘I’m sorry’? Or, ‘please accept my … sorrow’? Or what?”

  “‘I’m sorry’ will do, sweetie,” Jill answered, as Megan met Abby and gave her a hug.

  “Abby, I’m so sorry, again, I really am.”

  “Thanks.” Abby squeezed Megan tight, her eyes brimming with tears, then she let Megan go, turned to Jill, and practically fell into her arms. “Jill, thanks for coming.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Jill embraced her, trying to will the strength from her body into Abby’s.

  “This makes it so real, doesn’t it? Like he really is gone, and all these people I don’t even know them.”

  “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Jill released her when she spotted Victoria heading for her, with a deep scowl.

  “Jill, what are you doing here?” Victoria’s eyes flashed with anger. “You have no right to be here. This is a private ceremony.”

  Jill froze, stricken. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

  Abby interrupted, “I asked her to come, Victoria.”

  “Are you crazy?” Victoria shot back, then turned to Jill, infuriated. “How dare you! You should be ashamed of yourself. You know what you did to Dad. To all of us.”

  Megan gasped, teary. Heads turned. The rector’s mouth fell open.

  “Victoria, wait.” Jill put up a palm, stunned. She’d never seen Victoria so angry, especially not at her. They used to be so close. “Listen to me—”

  “No, you listen to me.” Victoria’s fair skin flushed with barely controlled rage. “You didn’t love Dad, and you didn’t love us, either. You threw us out!”

  “No, that’s not true.” Jill edged away, mortified. Her face felt like it was on fire, her mouth had gone dry. She wouldn’t stay another minute if it upset the girls. The crowd murmured. The rector grasped Victoria by the arm, but she pulled it away.

  “Now it’s my turn to throw you out, Jill. Leave. Go!” Victoria pointed to the door, but Jill was already in motion, turning to catch up with Megan, the two of them fleeing, their pumps clattering on the colonial floorboards.

  “Jill, no!” Abby shouted, and just when Jill thought it couldn’t get worse, she realized that Abby was running after them.

  “Megan, wait!” Jill called out, but Megan blew through the glass doors into the church’s courtyard. Jill ran through the doors after her and reached Megan, who was crying, full bore, in the rain.

  “Mom, what did I do? What did I do?”

  “Nothing, honey.” Jill hugged Megan just as Abby came flying out, her cheeks tear-stained, her mascara dripping black.

  “Jill, I’m sorry.” Abby ran headlong toward her, and Megan backed off. Jill caught Abby as she burst into new tears. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Abby, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I messed up. I didn’t tell her, but I didn’t think she’d freak out in front of everybody.” Abby sobbed, shuddering. Megan stood aside, wiping her eyes, but Jill couldn’t go to her, because she was comforting Abby. “Dad said you cheated on him, that you wanted a divorce, you met another man.”

  “What?” Megan blurted out.

  “No, that’s not true.” Jill released Abby. “Abby, go inside. This isn’t the time or the place—”

  “Was he lying?” Abby wiped her eyes, leaving mascara smudges. “You didn’t really cheat on Dad, did you?”

  “My Mom would never do that!” Megan shouted. “She cried, I heard her, lots of nights! He probably cheated on her!”

  “No, he didn’t!” Abby shouted back.

  “Yes, he did!” Megan yelled louder, veins bulging on her neck.

  “Stop fighting, both of you.” Jill took control, horrified. “Abby, we have to leave. Go inside. Take care. Good-bye.”

  “No, wait, don’t go.” Abby grabbed Jill’s arm, her tears abruptly stilled. “Can’t you just come over, like I asked? Please, after the service? Somebody murdered Dad, and we have to find out who.”

  “No, Abby, I can’t.” Jill pulled her arm away.

  “Mom, was William murdered?” Megan asked, her voice breaking.

  “No, he wasn’t,” Jill answered firmly, taking Megan’s hand. She could see Victoria inside the church, hurrying toward the glass exit doors. “Let’s go.”

  “Yes, he was, Megan!” Abby called out, and behind her, Victoria was opening the door, followed by the rector. “Somebody killed him, I know it! Jill, please, help me!”

  Jill hustled a weeping Megan away just as Victoria emerged with the rector.

  “Please, Jill, I need you!” Abby called again, but Jill kept going.

  Running from one crying child, with another.

  Chapter Ten

  Jill sat across from Megan in a restaurant near the church, a small, quiet place that seated them at a table in the back. Megan had stopped crying in the ladies’ room, though her eyes were still puffy and reddish, and she’d cut her lip on her braces. “Are you okay, honey?” Jill asked Megan, worried.

  “Yes.” Megan drank some water, crestfallen. “Victoria was so mad, I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  “Honey, stop, you didn’t do it. Victoria didn’t expect us, and we caught her by surprise. She’s a little crazy right now, is all.”

  “What’s Abby talking about, that William was murdered?” Megan’s eyes rounded, a bloodshot brown. “Was he, Mom?”

  “No, sweetie.”

  “Why does Abby think he was?”

  “She’s wrong, honey.” Jill shook her head. “People say and think strange things in grief. She’s too upset to think straight. They both are.”

  Megan sniffled. “I know you didn’t cheat on him, Mom.”

  “I didn’t. I never would.”

  “I know, you’re honest.” Megan managed a weepy smile. “You don’t let me sign your name to anything, ever. Even absence notes.”

  Jill smiled.

  “Did he cheat on you?”

  Jill sighed, inwardly. A couple of tourists got up from a nearby table. “I’m not sure we should get into this here and now, honey.”

  “Mom, I can take it. I’m not a baby.”

  “Frankly, it’s not your business. Or Abby’s. Or anybody’s but mine.” Jill wanted to stand her ground. It wouldn’t help for Megan to know more, and it was too emotionally charged a day. “I had to divorce him, and I did, and we�
�re better for it.”

  “Mom, tell me, please?” Megan leaned forward, putting her hands on the table, palms down. “William told Abby and Victoria. He thought they could handle it.”

  “William lied to Abby and Victoria.”

  “Trust me, Mom. Trust me enough to tell me.”

  “It’s not a matter of trust.” Jill tried to shift gears. “I wish we would use this day, and the fact that he’s gone, to put this chapter behind us and go forward.”

  “We can’t go to the next step until we understand this one.”

  Jill blinked. Either Megan had read that somewhere, or she was getting smarter.

  “You told me that, last week. When you were helping me with equations. You said you can’t go to the next step until you understand the last one.” Megan leaned over, bearing down. “Now tell me what happened. Why did you and William really break up?”

  Jill felt her resolve weaken. She spotted their waitress, coming toward them with their meals. “Hold on.”

  “Here we go, ladies,” the waitress said, setting salads in front of them, filling the air with the tang of balsamic dressing. They both thanked her, and Jill waited for her to leave before she spoke.

  “Honey, I don’t know if he cheated, and it really doesn’t matter to me.”

  Megan’s eyes flared. “Of course it does. It should.”

  “Let’s keep the drama to a minimum,” Jill said, though she doubted it was possible. Mothers and daughters were automatic drama, and if you add dead ex-husbands, it rose to operatic levels.

  “So what went wrong?”

  “We were happy for a while, but then the trouble started, and I didn’t notice it at first. I ignored things, like symptoms you minimize when you don’t want to change your initial diagnosis. Classic confirmation bias.”

  Megan nodded, used to medical analogies by now.

  “You remember William, right? What was he like, to you?”

  “Fun. Silly. He liked to do things.” Megan smiled. “Like when he got the bouncy house, and the trampoline.”

  “And the red convertible. Remember that day? He took you all for rides?”

  “Right. The Mustang.” Megan smiled more broadly, and Jill hoped she hadn’t made a mistake, having her recall such happy times, but that was the point.