Page 48 of Trust No One

I patted her on the back. Felt nothing. No grief, sadness, or loss. If anything, just relief. I’d imagined this moment for years. I thought Mom would never pass. And just like that she was gone.

“Thank you,” I said. I turned to the minister and offered more thanks.

“Of course. I admired your parents.” He was in his mid-sixties. Thick white hair. Deep lines around his eyes.

A squeeze of my hand and he walked away.

Amy approached. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” I’d never lived in Hale House alone.

“I don’t mind hanging out for a few more days.” Amy’s hair was a softer blond now, and bangs skimmed her forehead like mine.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” As far as I was concerned, her job here was finished.

Amy looked disappointed but didn’t argue. She had packed up her belongings in an old suitcase I’d given her. She was catching a ride back to town with Gabe. “Okay.”

“Thank you for all your help.”

“Of course. I loved this house. Your mom.”

Maybe true about the house. But Mom had been too difficult for anyone to love this last year.

As Amy walked away, Maria came up to me and handed me a beer. “She looks so much like you. It’s weird.”

I’d noticed the resemblance. But I needed help, and if mimicking me kept Amy on the job, okay.

“From a distance, I can’t tell you two apart,” Maria said.

I took a long swig. “Really?”

Judson, Gabe, and Ken were clustered under an oak tree. They appeared deep in conversation. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Maria had been fixated on Amy since the beginning. “It’s weird.”

“Why do you care?” I asked.

“I worry about you.”

“I’m fine.”

She picked at the label on her beer bottle. “She was into Judson and Gabe.”

“I never saw it.”

“I think Amy and Judson slept together,” Maria said.

My grip tightened around the beer bottle’s neck. Judson and I hadn’t slept together for a month. I missed him. But his focus was zeroed in on the future. My demands for time had only pushed him away.

I glanced at him. As if sensing me, he looked back. Shadows deepened the lines around his eyes. Regret? Sadness? I couldn’t read his expression.

“Who’s saying this?” I asked.

“Everyone.”

Annoyance snapped. “Since when do you care about everyone?”

A shrug. “Hard to ignore.”