“Meh,” Jane repeated. “Excited for your first day at work?”
“Meh.”
“Word of the day.”
“It appears so.”
They ate in a silence that felt even more profound because of the silence of the house. Jane found herself missing the noises of California, the constant car horns, music blasting from a distant stereo, Greer mumbling aloud to himself about some new business idea as he roamed throughout the rooms with a cup of coffee gone tepid.
What would Greer think of North Manor?
He would probably love it; he had an affinity for old things, for things past their prime, for things that needed a little imagination to find their true beauty. He’d probably have replaced all the windows himself, and given everything a fresh coat of paint by now, and kept them up at night with the sound of hammers and table saws and sandpaper sliding roughly against wood.
He would have filled up all the silence of this house with noise. He would have made it feel like a home, as opposed to just another place to sleep.
Jane finished her toast and carried her dish to the sink just as her phone buzzed—Susie was in the driveway.
“Ride’s here,” Jane said.
“Hey,” Ruth replied, taking Jane by the wrist. “I’m sorry I’m such a grump this morning.”
“Ditto.”
“It’ll get better,” Ruth continued, but she wasn’t quite able to make herself sound convincing. She smiled weakly to make up for it, and Jane kissed her on the cheek.
“Love you.”
“Love you, Janie.”
Jane grabbed her backpack and pushed out into the brisk morning. She slid into the passenger’s seat of Susie’s car and tried to sound as cheerful as possible when she said good morning.
“Hey!” Susie said, backing out of the driveway and starting off down the street.
“Morning. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“How was your weekend?”
“I feel like it was ninety percent homework. What about you? Anything exciting?”
Jane thought back to Friday night, to the smashed window. That definitely qualified as exciting, but for some reason, she didn’t want to tell Susie about it.
“Well, I cleaned for approximately thirty-eight hours. But I actually slept in a bed last night. So that was nice. Oh, and I got a job.”
“Already? Where?”
“Beans & Books. I start Tuesday.”
“Are you serious?” Susie said, brightening. “That’s my dad’s place!”
“Wait, are you Will’s sister?”
“Yes!”
“Small world.”
“Small town,” Susie corrected. “You’ll like Will. Technically, my dad owns it, but he’s totally hands-off. It’s basically Will’s thing now. He goes to state school a half an hour away, but he only has classes two days a week. So he’s at the shop the rest of the time. He wants to franchise it eventually; he’s trying to open one near his school.”
“That’s cool.”
“Maybe he’ll finally leave me alone now; he’s been trying to get me to work there. I just prefer drinking the coffee rather than making it, you know?”
Jane laughed. “Well, I guess I’ll be the one making it for you now.”
“Have you worked in a café before?”
“Yeah, back home, just a couple days a week.”
“I bet there’s very fancy milk in California.”
“Oh, the fanciest. Macadamia, pea, walnut.”
“Macadamia milk sounds amazing, I mean, why did you ever move? You had to know Bells Hollow wouldn’t have macadamia milk.”
Susie was joking, of course, but Jane paused anyway. Did she tell Susie the truth? It was still hard, saying it out loud—my father died. The words always seemed to catch in the back of her throat. But not telling her seemed worse, like an insult to Greer’s memory.
Finally, with a deep breath, she said, “Actually, we moved here because my dad died.” She paused, trying to keep her tone light. “To be honest, he loved macadamia milk, too. He would have been super bummed you guys don’t have it here.”
“Jane, I’m so sorry,” Susie said. “I had no idea.”
“Thanks. It’s been…”
“Terrible?” Susie supplied bluntly.
Jane looked at her and smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s been terrible.”
And it had been terrible, but it was strange.… The more distance they put between themselves and North Manor, the better Jane felt. Like a weight was lifting from her shoulders. Like something huge and dark was dissolving from her heart.
She settled back in her seat and tried not to think about how good it felt to be away from that house.
Transferring to a new school was a lesson in makeup work. Jane had done a fair amount of homework over the weekend, but she still felt behind in her morning classes, struggling to figure out where the rest of the class was in the lesson. She was exhausted by the time the lunch bell rang; Alana found her by her locker, not putting anything away, just sort of staring into it blankly.
“You okay?”
Jane blinked. “I think I fell asleep with my eyes open.”
“Long night?”
“Long night, long morning.”
“Anything I can do to help? I am your buddy, you know.”
“I haven’t missed a coffee shop on campus, have I? Maybe tucked behind the science wing or something?”
“Are you telling me you had a coffee shop in your high school?”
Jane nodded sadly. “They actually made great cappuccinos.”
“Of course they did.”
Just then someone emerged from the crowd of lunch-bound students and bumped their shoulder against Alana, hard. It was the same girl who had kicked her chair at lunch Friday, the girl with the dyed-black hair and dark eyes. She was trailed by a guy in cut-up jeans and a stained Henley shirt.
“Did you bring it?” she asked, not looking at Jane.
Alana rolled her eyes. “Yes, Melanie.”
“You were supposed to put it in my locker.”
“I’ve been busy. With classes.”
“Busy with classes? Or busy making new friends?”
Melanie looked at Jane for the first time. Her expression was hard to read, but she was looking at Jane like she was pathetic, not worth the time it took to glance in her direction. And there was something else there.… Something like anger or recognition. Jane couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
“Melanie, this is Jane. Jane, Melanie,” Alana said stiffly. She dug around in her backpack for something, pulled out a small, stapled stack of paper, and handed it to Melanie.
Melanie took it but didn’t look away from Jane. A funny smirk spread across her face. “It really is you.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked.
“I told you it was her,” the boyfriend said.
“Yeah, you were right,” Melanie said.
Her boyfriend laughed. There was something familiar about that laugh, something that nagged at Jane’s memory.
Oh, right.
Of course.
Jane could almost hear his exclamation in the middle of the night—Oh shit!—right after Melanie had thrown a rock through her window.