“It’s Sunday. Where are the children, or aren’t there any?” Lucy said as if the observation incriminated me in some way.
“There are a few.” I turned on my street.
“No bikes in the yards, no sleds or tree houses. Doesn’t anybody ever go outside?”
“This is a very quiet neighborhood.”
“Is that why you chose it?”
“In part. It’s also quite safe, and hopefully buying a home here will prove to be a good investment.”
“Private security?”
“Yes,” I said as my uneasiness grew.
She continued staring out at the large homes flowing past. “I bet you can go inside and shut the door and never hear from anyone never see anyone outside, either, unless they’re walking their dog. But you don’t have a dog. How many trick-or-treaters did you have on Halloween?”
“Halloween was quiet,” I said evasively.
In truth, my doorbell had rung only once, when I was working in my study. I could see in my video monitor the four trick-or-treaters on my porch, and picking up the handset, I started to tell them that I would be right there when I overheard what they were saying to each other.
“No, there isn’t a dead body in there,” whispered the tiny UVA cheerleader.
“Yes, there is,” said Spiderman. “She’s on TV all the time because she cuts dead people up and puts them in jars. Dad told me.”
I parked inside the garage and said to Lucy, “We’ll get you settled in your room and the first order of business after that is for me to build a fire and make a pot of hot chocolate. Then we’ll think about lunch.”
“I don’t drink hot chocolate. Do you have an espresso maker?”
“Indeed I do.”
“That would be perfect, especially if you have decaf French roast. Do you know your neighbors?”
“I know who they are. Here, let me get that bag and you take this one so I can unlock the door and deactivate the alarm. Lord, this is heavy.”
“Grans insisted I bring grapefruit. They’re pretty good, but full of seeds.”
Lucy looked around as she stepped inside my house. “Wow. Skylights. What do you call this style of architecture, besides rich?”
Maybe her disposition would self-correct if I pretended not to notice.
“The guest bedroom is back this way,” I said. “I could put you upstairs if you wish, but I thought you’d rather be down here near me.”
“Down here is fine. As long as I’m close to the computer.”
“It’s in my study, which is next door to your room.”
“I brought my UNDO notes, books, and a few other things.”
She paused in front of the sliding glass doors in the living room. “The yard’s not as nice as your other one.”
She said this as if I had let down everyone I had ever known.
“I’ve got plenty of years to work on my yard. It gives me something to look forward to.”
Lucy slowly scanned her surroundings, her eyes finally resting on me. “You’ve got cameras in your doors, motion sensors, a fence, security gates, and what else? Gun turrets?” “No gun turrets.”
“This is your Fort Apache, isn’t it, Aunt Kay? You moved here because Mark’s dead and there’s nothing left in the world except bad people.”
The comment ambushed me with terrific force, and instantly tears filled my eyes. I went into the guest bedroom and set down her suitcase, then checked towels, soap, and toothpaste in the bath. Returning to the bedroom, I opened the curtains, checked dresser drawers, rearranged the closet, and adjusted the heat while my niece sat on the edge of the bed, following my every move. In several minutes, I was able to meet her eyes again.
“When you unpack, I’ll show you a closet you can rummage through for winter things,” I said.
“You never saw him the way everybody else did.”
“Lucy, we need to talk about something else.”
I switched on a lamp and made certain the telephone was plugged in.
“You’re better off without him,” she added with conviction.
“Lucy . . “
“He wasn’t there for you the way he should have been. He never would have been there because that’s the way he was. And every time things didn’t go right, you changed.”