“But she refuses.”
“I know.”
“Maybe if she got this big family secret out in the open—she could…I don’t know…rest a bit,” Hannah says.
I nod. It isn’t the first time that Hannah and I have discussed Lainey’s drinking—which seems to have gotten worse since the pandemic and her mother’s death. But it’s the first time it’s occurred to me that it could have something to do with a vacuum in her life. I think of my own parents and shudder just imagining what it will be like when they’re gone.
“That’s really nice of you, Hannah. But you’re the one in the middle of a crisis. Not Lainey. You should pick somewhere you want to go.”
“Maybe so. But if you think about it, Lainey’s crisis was her mother passing. And we couldn’t be there for her.”
“We did what we could,” I say, thinking of how often I called Lainey during that time.
“I know, but we can do more now.”
I nod, feeling a surge of admiration for Hannah’s big heart.
“I guess it’s worth a try,” I say.
“Definitely.” Hannah smiles. “And it will be an adventure.”
“It’s always an adventure with Lainey,” I say. “But I really don’t think she’ll agree to this.”
“Well, she’s going to have to,” Hannah says with a worried smile. “No vetoes. Remember?”
“Diabolical,” I say, reaching out from under my blanket to give her a fist bump. “Downright cold-blooded.”
Chapter 6
Lainey
The following morning, I awaken to the sound of Hannah crying. I reach across the bed and drape my arm around her.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not,” she sobs. “Grady called my mother. Before I could talk to her. He’s already turned her against me.”
“How can that be?” I ask. “Did he tell her what he did?”
“Of course not,” she says. “He’s blaming everything on me. I’m the bad guy. He’s the victim. So my mother is livid. With me.”
“Oh my God, Hannah. That’s awful. I’m so sorry…. And could Grady be any sleazier?”
“He’s the worst!”
As Hannah continues to vent, reading aloud Grady’s latest text rant, I discreetly check my own phone. I am delighted to discover that I have not one but two responses to the messages I sent last night to Grady and Munich. Even better, it appears that they have failed to compare notes. Rookies.
As Hannah gets out of bed, I nonchalantly ask if I can borrow her car to run a quick errand.
“Sure. What do you need? I might have it here.”
“I feel like I’m getting a UTI,” I improvise. “I just want to get some cranberry juice and knock it out. Do you need anything?”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “But I can go with you—”
“That’s okay,” I quickly say. “You stay here with Tyson. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
—
About twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in a maroon vinyl booth in the corner of Goldbergs, a strip-mall diner not far from Hannah’s place. I have my back to the wall and my eyes on the door, mobster-style, as I nurse a cup of black coffee.
Across from me is a very disheveled Grady, sucking down a Coke as he waits for his order of biscuits and gravy—a telltale sign of a hangover.
“So how are you holding up?” I ask, feigning sympathy that is in keeping with the text I sent him last night.
“Terrible,” he says.
“I know,” I say, shaking my head and practically making a tsking sound. “The whole thing is shocking.”
“So she didn’t tell you what she was going to do?”
“No. It was totally out of the blue,” I say, putting my acting chops to the test. “Tyson and I were floored. You two have always seemed so happy.”
“I thought we were,” he says. “But Hannah seems to think I cheated on her.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh.
“Why in the world does she think that?”
He is clearly trying to figure out what she knows. It’s a solid strategy, but this isn’t my first rodeo. “I have no clue,” I say. “I guess it’s a hunch?”
Grady nods, looking relieved. “Damn. I’m really worried about her. It’s not like her to be so paranoid.”
“Hmm,” I say, sipping my coffee, keeping the concerned look on my face.
As he rambles on, I spot Munich walking through the door in a ridiculous frilly getup. Her blond hair is freshly curled, and even from a distance, I can tell she’s wearing way too much makeup.
“Will you excuse me for one second, Grady?” I say as nonchalantly as I can.
“No problem,” he replies, immediately pulling out his phone.
I slide out of the booth and trot over to the door, smiling. Munich beams back at me, exposing a row of oversize snow-white veneers. They are all the same rectangular length, giving her a horsey smile.
“Hello!” I say. “Thank you for coming!”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure and honor. I’m such a big fan!” she gushes, pressing her left hand to the right side of her chest, where her heart isn’t.
“Thank you,” I say. “Would you like to come sit down? I have a table in the back.”
