Page 85 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Visibly uncomfortable, he glared at his watch. “Let's go watch this interview.” He stood and rounded his desk. Although he almost touched her, he didn't.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She just didn't know how she would react. “Dad?”

“Yes, Laura.”

“May Olivia stay?”

She swore her father's austere façade crumbled for a fraction of a second. “She may stay.” His mask came back up. “I expect Mrs. Grant to take full responsibility.”

“Of course.” She lightened, because at least she secured her father's promise before he saw the interview. He was a man of his word, so he’d keep Olivia safe.

When they arrived at the living room, Mrs. Grant and Olivia sat on the couch. While Martin sat in his favorite chair, Marnie remained standing behind the group. When Olivia glanced back questioningly, she gestured to indicate she couldn't join them. She wouldn't be able to sit still, and she wanted to be able to make a quick escape.

Although they mentioned her at the top of the newscast, half an hour passed before Jessica finally appeared. Marnie’s image was splashed across the screen while Jessica recounted a brief history of her past. The intro ended and the interview began.

Marnie felt oddly disconnected, as if she was watching someone else. In some ways, she was. Laura Derks was part twelve-year-old girl, part media creation, and part urban legend. She was that one-in-a-million who came home.

And she was someone Marnie Jones no longer recognized.

To her surprise, they aired the entire interview. The kind, Indo-Canadian anchor had a brief conversation with Jessica where they praised Laura’s bravery.

Then it ended.

The tension in the room was thick because everyone present had a stake in this interview.

After a moment, Olivia leapt from the sofa and launched herself into Marnie's arms. “You were so brave.”

She returned the affection wholeheartedly. Olivia's approval meant more than anyone else's reaction. She had as much to lose as Marnie did.

Martin cleared his throat, and Marnie reluctantly released Olivia.

“You did an admirable job, Laura.” There was a hint of pride, even a bit of color in his cheeks. “I still don't care for the black hair.” He turned to Mrs. Grant. “Is dinner ready?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Grant was leading the way to the dining room when Martin intervened.

“Why don’t we eat in the kitchen? That way Matilda can join us.”

The world rotated on its axis. Marnie barely kept from gaping.

Matilda? The kitchen table? Clearly the conversation between her father and Mrs. Grant must’ve had a profound impact because she swore the housekeeper blushed. Or was that her imagination?

Going with the flow, Marnie helped Mrs. Grant serve the grilled-chicken Caesar salad.

“Health food.” Martin cleared his throat. “But delicious, I'm sure.”

Dinner bordered on fun as Olivia recounted the events from the past few days. Describing haircuts to manicures to shopping and the internet, the young woman kept up a cheerful chatter while drawing Marnie out of her introspective shell.

Martin even contributed a funny anecdote about his work.

Marnie fought her sense of unreality. A good sense of unreality.

Dessert was fresh fruit with yogurt ice cream.

Heaven.

When the meal ended, Martin retreated to his den, and Olivia took her new cell phone into the next room to call Jake.

As Marnie helped Mrs. Grant—Matilda—with the dishes, she was engulfed by loss, and it robbed her of breath. She missed Jake. She missed their conversations. She missed his insights. She missed being able to open up to him. He hadn't attempted to contact her, so she hadn't seen him since the night she’d taken refuge here. At least he was in constant contact with Olivia.

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