Part 9 (1/2)
”When we were whispering beneath the window?”
”Yes. He heard me complaining about the fact that my mom wasn't at work like she should be.”
”I don't see how that's possible,” I said.
”Then how did he know?” Charisse demanded. ”I never talk to him. I certainly never spoke to him about my mom's work.”
”Well, of course you never talk to him,” I said. ”You told me he's not usually there when you get home. You can't talk to him if you don't see him.”
”Katie, he comes back later in the evening to pick my mom up so they can go out. He tries to talk to me then. But I have absolutely nothing to say to him.”
”Maybe you said something to your mom, and she mentioned it to him.”
Charisse shook her head. ”I don't talk to her these days, either. It's like she barely even knows I'm around.”
”Okay, let's say he's weird and your mom's distant. I still don't see what your point is. What do you think is going to happen?”
”Joshua is not normal. He could hear us talking-I know it. And I think that's why he's gone when I get home-he can hear my car coming, so he leaves. He's trying to pretend like everything's normal, but it isn't.”
I didn't reply, and Charisse lapsed into silence.
”I guess I don't know what my point is, either,” she said after a moment.
She started the car.
”You probably want to get home.”
Chapter 5.
Charisse left me at my front door, and then sped off.
I knew she was angry-she had maintained a stony silence during the drive to my house. But I didn't see that there was anything either one of us could do if her mother liked Joshua Martin. Maybe Charisse had noticed something strange about him-but I hadn't.
And it seemed to me that if anyone could recognize trouble, I could.
Just as I was getting out of the car I had asked Charisse to tell me if anything new developed-anything truly out of the ordinary.
Charisse had not replied to that.
I supposed I couldn't really blame her.
So feeling out of sorts, I watched Charisse's tail lights disappear. Then I went into the house and on into the kitchen.
A pot of water was boiling vigorously on the stove, and GM was sitting at the kitchen table reading a letter. The letter seemed to absorb her completely-so much so that I could tell she didn't know that I had come into the room.
I stood for a moment watching her.
My eyes dropped from her rapt face to the piece of paper in her hand. I squinted at it, and I realized that I could just make out the dark outline of the words she was reading. I wondered if I could read the words backwards.
GM looked up suddenly and jumped when she saw me.
”Oh, Katie! I didn't know you were home!”
She folded the letter up swiftly and swept it into an envelope that had been lying face down on the table. Then she hurried out of the room.
It was pretty clear to me that she was going to her office to hide her letter.
Sure enough, when GM returned a moment later, her hands were empty.
”Sorry I'm later than usual,” I said, as GM moved to the stove. ”I stopped by Charisse's house.”
GM was measuring orecchiette pasta into the boiling water and looked around at me.
”It is of no consequence, Solnyshko.”
She turned back to the boiling water and threw in a pinch of salt.
It was unusual for GM not to require me to account for all of my time.
”GM, who was the letter from?” I asked.
GM waved a hand airily. ”No one.”
She smiled at me and moved to the refrigerator.
I felt a flash of frustration, but I tried to keep my voice even. ”A letter can't come from no one. Someone has to write it and send it.”
GM shut the refrigerator door and turned back to me. ”It's not from anyone you know.”
I persisted. ”Is it from the same person who sent you all the other letters?”
”What other letters?”
”GM, please. You know I've seen you with the other letters.”
GM's face went carefully blank.
”This is my private correspondence, Katie. It has nothing to do with you.”
I decided to drop the topic. GM was clearly getting ruffled, and I didn't want her to be in a bad mood when William arrived.
”Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” I asked, changing the subject.
”The sauce is made already,” GM replied. ”You can chop up this basil.”
She handed me a bunch of the herb. ”When you're done with that, you can cut some slices of bread.”