Page 37 of Bitter House

“Would you look at that, ladies?” She pulls back with a wry grin, winking at Jane. “Here I thought we were the old ones, but this little peacock is clearly hard of hearing.”

“She said she’s not interested. She’s staying. So you should be leaving,” Jane says, her voice stony. She’s equally terrifying, and I can practically picture her pouncing on him, thumping him on the head. I can’t explain it, but she just has that look about her. The mental image nearly makes me smile. “Now.”

Cate moves to stand next to her so the three of them form a wall in front of us, and my heart swells.

Zach looks around them, peering at me, and shakes his head. “Don’t let your pride screw you, Bridget. You can’t even afford to keep this house from caving in, and we all know it. This money could change your life.”

Lily moves into his line of sight and plasters a sugar-sweet smile on her rosy lips. “I don’t think you’re hearing me. If you say another word to her, I’m going to call the police.”

“Already on it,” Cate says, pulling a phone out of the pocket of her yoga pants.

“Go, Zach,” I say. “Leave. I’m not interested, and I won’t change my mind.”

He scoffs, swatting a hand in our direction as he walks away and back to his car, his shoulders swaying, head held high. Now I understand why Jane called him a peacock.

As he disappears back down the drive, the women turn back to look at us.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “Really. I hate that you had to see that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been around a long time, honey. We’ve all seen much worse than him. This house meant everything to Vera, Bridget. You know that.” Lily’s eyes are so serious, it’s painful. “Promise me you won’t give it to that man. Promise me you’ll keep it.”

“I don’t plan to leave,” I say. “Or sell. Cole and I will likely split it like a vacation home.”

The women exchange unreadable glances, then Lily turns toward the house again with a sad smile. “Well, we wish you could be our neighbor permanently, but I think she’d like knowing you’re here in whatever way you can be.”

I want to tell her she’s wrong—clearly. That I was just the only choice she had when she was looking for someone to leave the house to. But I don’t want to sully her memory of Vera, so I say nothing.

“You should change the passcode to the gate, by the way,” Jane says. “So you don’t have to worry about him coming back.”

Intrigued, I study her. “Actually, do you know how to do that?”

She gives me a prize-winning smile. “I most certainly do.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BRIDGET

After we change the gate code and say goodbye to the neighbors, Cole and I make our way up the lawn and toward the front porch. Some of my fear from this morning has dissipated, though so many of my thoughts are still overloaded with worry—an echo chamber of ever-present panic.

There’s a dead body in the backyard.

Oh, that’s a pretty flower.

Vera killed your parents.

Cole has been really nice lately.

Vera killed someone and buried them in the yard.

I should make something for the neighbors as a thank you for being so kind.

I was staring at a skeleton less than an hour ago.

When we reach the porch, I freeze.

It’s impossible, and yet, there it is.

Another letter. Two in one day. That’s never happened before.

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