Page 5 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane
“No, Mark is going to be commuting into the city for work most days. He’s an accountant and that’s where his firm is.”
“My husband’s law firm as well. But I find it’s so much more enjoyable living out here, away from all the noise of the city.”
“Yes, that’s part of the reason we chose this place. We were ready to live somewhere quieter with a little more space.” She blushes. “Maybe think about starting a family.”
“Well, this is the perfect place for it.” Georgina smiles warmly. She remembers those days, when the promise of the future seemed to sparkle tantalizingly on the horizon. “It doesn’t get much quieter than Hawthorne Lane. And the school district is incredible.”
“So I’m told.”
The front door opens with a whine. “Georgina?”
At the sound of her husband’s voice, Georgina checks the clock above the stove.He’s early.
“In here, darling,” she calls. She hears his dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floor, growing louder as he approaches.
Colin appears in the entry to the kitchen in a tailored navy-blue suit and a crisp white shirt, his jacket casually draped over his shoulder. Georgina sees a look of confusion pass over his face as he registers their unexpected guest, but it’s gone as quickly as it arrived.
“And I see we have company.” Colin smiles, two dazzling rows of perfect white teeth.
“I’m…uh,” Hannah stutters as though she’s momentarily forgotten her own name. “Hannah.”
Colin tends to have that effect on people, women in particular, Georgina has noticed. He’s strikingly handsome, almost startlingly so. Like a movie star that’s just stepped off the silver screen. They’ve been together for almost twenty years, and sometimes he still catches Georgina off guard.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hannah.” Colin takes her hand.
“Hannah is our new neighbor,” Georgina explains. “And she was kind enough to bring over some of our mail.”
Colin laughs. “I doubt it will be the last time. Wait until you meet our mailman, Doug. He wears glasses as thick as Coke bottles. I doubt he can read a damn thing.” Colin sniffs the air. “Hey, is that eggplant rollatini I smell?”
“Oh!” Georgina rushes to the stove and shuts off the burnerunder the extra sauce. “I’d nearly forgotten I was cooking. It’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
Hannah smiles graciously. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your evening. Thank you again for the wine.” She pushes her glass forward, though Georgina notices she’s hardly touched it.
“Anytime,” Georgina replies as she walks Hannah to the door.
“And I really was serious about those decorating tips! Everything here is justperfect!”
The word rings in Georgina’s head like struck glass:perfect, perfect, perfect.
5
Hannah
Hawthorne Lane
It’s late by the time Hannah starts her walk home from Georgina’s house. The sky has turned dark, and the stars sparkle overhead in an array of constellations that Hannah could never see in New York City.
She hadn’t planned on staying at Georgina’s, but there was something about her, something that seemed to pull Hannah into her orbit. Everything about Georgina saidrightin all the places Hannah has always been wrong: Her hair, the color of a polished penny, fell in smooth waves past her shoulders, her clothes were elegant and refined, and the diamond tennis bracelet encircling her slim wrist gave the air of casual wealth. Not to mention her house—the largest on the block, sitting dead center at the end of the cul-de-sac—which was incredible. It’s clear that Georgina has taste. Hannah saw it in the small details: the vase of fresh white roses in the open foyer, the original artworks adorning the walls, the curated throw pillows strategically placed to make the house feel homey yet elegant. That’s the kind of taste that money can’t buy. Not that Hannah would know what that’s like, never having owned a piece of furniture that she didn’t have to assemble with an Allen wrench. Mark had given her a credit card, told her to buy anything she wanted for the new house, but Hannah didn’t even know where to begin. Preferences, as far as she’s concerned, are for people who can afford them, and she’s never been able to.
She has been worried about whether she’d fit in here, onHawthorne Lane. This place is so different from what she’s accustomed to. She knows that Mark was raised in a neighborhood very much like this one, where there were dinner parties and impromptu games of kickball in the street. Coming here is, for Mark, like coming home. But it’s different for her. Hannah isn’t even sure what home feels like. She’d known once, when her mother was alive, but that was a very long time ago. Hannah did most of her growing up in foster care. Which meant that she often wasn’t in the same place long enough to find her footing, to make any real connections. And after a while, she’d given up trying. She accepted that she was a girl who belonged to no one and nowhere. Until she wasn’t.
Hannah shakes her head. She’s not that girl anymore. And Hawthorne Lane is going to be different. She’s already met two of her neighbors, and despite the fact that Libby nearly hit her with her car, they’d both been warmly welcoming. Libby had apologized to Hannah profusely and explained that she’d been distracted and hadn’t seen her coming around the side of the moving van. Hannah had offered an apology of her own, admitting that she hadn’t been looking before she stepped into the street. In the end, they’d both laughed at the awkwardness of the introduction, and Libby had jokingly promised to try not to mow Hannah down again the next time they saw each other.
The house is quiet now as Hannah slips inside and locks the front door behind her. Mark must have fallen asleep after their long day of unpacking. Hannah feels it too, the exhaustion that is ready to consume her. She sets her purse on top of one of the many unopened boxes that dominate the space that will soon be her new living room. She dropped the mail there earlier as well. That was when she’d spotted Georgina’s name, familiar from the community forum, on several of the envelopes and realized the mailman’s mistake. The rest of the mail is still there, the pile of scattered flyers, bills forwarded from their previous address in Manhattan, and takeout menus. After being inside Georgina’s warm and spotless home, Hannah finds that she suddenly can’t stand the clutter of her own. She’s eager to start unpacking, tidying away the mess, but it feels like a daunting task. One that she knows she’ll mostly be doing alone onceMark goes back to work in a few days. With a sigh, she quickly flips through the mail one last time as she makes her way toward the garbage bin.
That’s when she sees it—an envelope marked only with the address of the apartment in Manhattan where she and Mark had been living before closing on their new house on Hawthorne Lane. There’s no return address, which strikes Hannah as odd. She turns it over in her hand, inspects the back flap, and finds that it’s held closed with a small piece of tape.
She slides her finger beneath the flap, opens it, and pulls out the single sheet of paper folded inside.
