Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
When I stepped from the sidewalk onto the chipped concrete porch, I caught my own face in the leaded glass inset of the front door. I looked like a revenant—haggard, shadow-eyed, but with a forced alertness that would probably pass for enthusiasm to anyone who hadn’t grown up watching my tells. I let myself in. The door still shrieked at the hinges, even after I’d oiled them every year for as long as I could remember. Some things don’t lose their voice, no matter how hard you try to silence them. Mom was waiting just inside, in the vestibule, doing her best impression of a woman surprised by a homecoming she’d been tracking down to the minute.
“Albert,” she said. It was always my full name when she was afraid. Never Al, or Bert, or the string of nicknames she’d used until I was thirteen. She’d started using just “Albert” again the summer after that year, and never stopped. “Welcome home. You’ve been missed.”
“Hi, Mom.” I set my bag down by the stairs, careful to keep the smirk out of my voice. “You look… wow.” I let my gaze drag over her, slow enough to notice her instinct to shrink, but not slow enough to be overtly cruel—yet. “Older.”
She was done up for church, or maybe a real estate open house: lavender blouse buttoned high enough to choke a stork, pleated navy skirt that made her look like the world’s oldest altar girl, hose with the faintest whisper of a run up the right calf. She’d even curled her hair, or tried to, but the effort had mostly highlighted the increasing gray at her temples.
“I didn’t expect you this early,” she said, voice quavering just enough to ruin the attempt at a warm smile. She hovered, awkwardly, between the desire to hug me and the instinct to keep something—furniture, a wall, a cross—between us. “I don’t have dinner ready yet.”
“I caught an earlier train.” I let her off the hook by dropping onto the couch and sprawling out, arms thrown wide. “Long day. I could use some tea.” I said it like a joke but left the command hanging in the air.
“Of course, dear,” she said, and hustled into the kitchen. The clatter of china and the telltale creak of the ancient faucet followed, echoing up the staircase and through the walls like distant gunfire.