Page 26 of A Hidden Past

It’s not exactly a lie. I haven’t ruled out the idea of a graduate school. I just don’t know exactly what I want to do yet.”

“Have you declared your major yet?”

“Oh, um… I’m still kind of looking at things.”

“I see. You’re a sophomore this coming fall, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’ll need to declare your major by spring. Don’t waste too much time. You can always start with a business degree and transition to another field later. It’s always a good idea to know how to manage your finances.”

“Good advice,” I say noncommittally. I remind myself that she’s old and probably has no one to talk to, so she’s taking advantage of the chance to talk to me.

“So you’ve heard about the Kensington girl.”

I blink, shocked by the sudden change of subject. “Um… yes. Tragic.”

She looks at me, and her expression is shrewd and almost cunning. I’ve seen that exact expression on too many faces in this neighborhood already. It’s a little unsettling. Hell, it’s a lot unsettling.

“Well,” I say, “I should get—”

“It’s horrible what Julian and Clara did to that poor girl.”

A chill runs through me. “Do you… do you think…”

“I make it my business not to jump to conclusions, dear,” Mrs. Winslow replies, “but I find it interesting that Lila’s death occurred so soon after the tabloids leaked her eating disorder. You know Julian is running for a city council position. I shouldn’t really ask such questions, but when I think of who might stand to benefit from Lila’s death, I wonder if perhaps the sympathy of losing a child might outweigh the scandal of having a child with such a malady.”

She sips her coffee, her expression one of practiced nonchalance now. I decide I don’t like her nearly as much as I thought I did before.

Still, what she says makes an odd… sense? I don’t follow politics much. The way I see it is that if politicians wanted to make a difference, we’d see it, but they only want to make differences that benefit them. Poor people aren’t going to do anything for politicians, so why would they give a shit if we suffer?

But I know that image matters a lot and scandals truly do ruin careers. I don’t know why having a daughter who’s sick would ruin someone’s career, but after hearing the story Vivian tells me about Mrs. Cho and Mrs. Fletcher, I have an idea of how the minds of wealthy people work.

I stand and say again, “I should get going on the pool, Mrs. Winslow. Thank you for the coffee.”

She smiles at me. “Of course, dear. Thank you for keeping an old woman company.”

I smile, and it occurs to me that the genuine one I wear earlier is gone. I’m back to faking it.

I head out the door and hear, “Be careful with that Chase woman, Nathan. She’s not what she seems to be.”

I stop dead in my tracks. How does she know about that? How could she know about that? She lives on the other side of the neighborhood.

I turn back to her, but she’s looking away from me now, sipping her coffee. I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t think of anything to say, so I just head to the backyard and begin working.

Yeah, I definitely don’t like Mrs. Winslow.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I end up meeting Marco again for lunch. I’m still not sure how much time I should spend with him, but at least I know how to talk to him.

“Dude, people here are weird,” he says in between bites of another overstuffed sub sandwich—this one meatball.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” I reply in between bites of my equally overstuffed Italian club.

“Everyone here hates each other,” he continues. “Like, seriously, every house I go to, they’re always talking shit on each other. I just did this woman’s garden—”

“That’s what she said.”

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