Page 39 of Old Money
I stop, leaving a good five feet between us.
“Not sure how to answer that, Susannah.”
I can see Patrick on the clubhouse steps. He’s talking with Cory. They’re laughing about something.
Susannah follows my gaze.
“Okay,” she says, looking back at me, uncertain. “I just wanted— Sorry. I was hoping to—”
“Suze?” Patrick calls to her. “All good?”
He and Cory are both looking this way now, the smiles and laughter gone.
“Yup!” she answers brightly. “Two shakes!”
Two shakes?
Susannah takes a quick step forward and grasps my left hand, hard. “I really would like to get together, Alice,” she says very quietly, her eyes wide and searching mine. “Okay? Soon?”
“Sure,” I say, flabbergasted.
“When?”
“Uh. I guess—”
“Susannah?” Patrick calls again. His eyes shift toward me just for a second.
(They scare easy.)
“I’ll text,” says Susannah, releasing my hand.
As she walks swiftly toward Patrick, I run a finger over the tiny half moon in my palm, where her thumbnail dug into my skin. The depression is already fading, but I can still feel it there.
Chapter Eighteen
“Hey, stranger, what are you doing home?” Theo leans out of the kitchen, a sandwich in his hand. “Guys, look who’s here.”
Isaac and Simon come out of the dining nook, Simon with a Joker-smile of jelly on his face.
“Hi!” I say, loud and cheery, feigning pleasant surprise. “What areyoudoing home? All of you?”
“Um,” Isaac says portentously, stifling a grin. “No swim camp today. We got sent home.”
“Davey Holland diarrheaed in the pool!” Simon bursts out. “It was so—”
“That’s okay, bud!” Theo interjects.
Theo and Jules take turns on days like this: snow days, sick days, diarrhea-pool days. It’s a fair-share parenting policy they adopted from Ruth Bader Ginsburg and her husband. Theo makes a point of saying so in every interview—adding that no one gave Ruth extra credit for picking up her kids occasionally.
“We’re doing PB&J,” says Isaac. “Want one?”
“Absolutely,” I say, dropping onto the couch.
“I’ll make it!” Simon yells. The boys run into the kitchen, jars banging on the counter.
“What’s up?” Theo asks, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Everything okay?”
I peek into the kitchen.
