Thinking about it, Emily slipped her hand into her jeans pocket and felt for the silky tassel she’d carried with her for the past year. Just feeling that it was still there calmed her down.
A small cry rang out, and Emily turned. Just twenty feet away, almost blending into the trunk of the Hastingses’ giant oak, stood a teenage girl bouncing a bundled baby. “Shhh,” the girl cooed. Then she glanced over at Emily, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I came out here to keep her quiet, but it’s not working.”
“It’s okay.” Emily covertly wiped her eyes. She glanced at the tiny baby. “What’s her name?”
“Grace.” The girl shifted the baby higher in her arms. “Say hi, Grace.”
“Is she . . . yours?” The girl looked about Emily’s age.
“Oh God, no.” The girl laughed. “She’s my mom’s. But she’s inside, schmoozing, so I’m on nanny duty.” She shifted for something in the big diaper bag on her shoulder. “Would you mind holding her for a second? I have to get her bottle, but it’s way at the bottom.”
Emily blinked. She hadn’t held a baby in a long time. “Well, okay . . .”
The girl handed Emily the baby, who was swaddled in a pink blanket and smelled like powder. Her little red mouth opened wide and tears dotted her eyes. “It’s okay,” Emily told her “You can cry. I don’t mind.”
A wrinkle formed on Grace’s tiny brow. She shut her mouth and stared at Emily curiously. Tumultuous feelings rushed through Emily. Her memories pulsed close, ready to break free, but she quickly pushed them down deep.
The girl raised her head from the diaper bag. “Hey! You’re a natural. Do you have young brothers or sisters?”
Emily bit her lip. “No, just older ones. But I’ve done a lot of babysitting.”
“It shows.” She smiled. “I’m Chloe Roland. My family just moved here from Charlotte.”
Emily introduced herself. “Where are you going to school?”
“Rosewood Day. I’m a senior.”
Emily smiled. “That’s where I go!”
“Do you like it?” Chloe asked, finding the bottle.
Emily handed Grace back. Did she like Rosewood Day? So much about the school reminded her of her Ali—and of A. Every corner, every room held a memory she’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” she said, then inadvertently let out a loud sniff.
Chloe squinted into Emily’s tear-stained face. “Is everything okay?”
Emily wiped her eyes. Her brain conjured up the words I’m fine and It doesn’t matter, but she couldn’t say them. “I just found out I didn’t get a college swimming scholarship,” she blurted. “My parents can’t afford to send me without it. It’s my fault, though. I . . . I dropped out of swimming this summer. No team wants me now. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Fresh tears cascaded down Emily’s face. Since when did she go around blubbering about her problems to girls she didn’t know? “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t want to hear that.”
Chloe sniffed. “Please. It’s more than anyone else has said to me at this party. So you swim, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Chloe smiled. “My dad’s a big donor at the University of North Carolina, his alma mater. He might be able to help.”
Emily looked up. “UNC is a great swimming school.”
“Maybe I could talk to him about you.”
Emily stared at her. “But you don’t even know me!”
Chloe shifted Grace higher in her arms. “You seem nice.”
Emily peered at Chloe more closely. She had a pleasant round face, sparkling hazel eyes, and long, shiny brown hair the color of a chocolate Pudding Pop. Her eyebrows looked like they hadn’t been plucked in a while, she didn’t have much makeup on, and Emily was pretty sure she’d seen the dress Chloe was wearing at The Gap. She liked her instantly for not trying so hard.
The front door to the Hastingses’ house opened, and a few guests emerged onto the porch. A zing of fear bolted through Emily’s chest. Coat check!
“I-I have to go,” she cried, spinning around. “I’m supposed to be working coat check. I’m probably going to be fired now.”
“It was nice to meet you!” Chloe waved, and then made Grace wave, too. “And, hey! If you’re that eager for money, want to babysit for us Monday night? My parents don’t know anyone yet, and I have a college interview.”
Emily paused in the frosty grass. “Where do you live?”
Chloe laughed. “Right. That would be helpful, huh?” She pointed across the street. “There.”
Emily stared at the large Victorian and swallowed a gasp. Chloe’s family had moved into the Cavanaughs’ old house.
“Um, sure. Yeah.” Emily waved good-bye and sprinted back toward the house. As she passed by the thick line of shrubs that separated the Hastings property from the DiLaurentises’, she heard a high-pitched giggle.
She stopped suddenly. Was someone watching her? Laughing?
The giggling faded into the trees. Emily shuffled up the front walk, trying to shake the sound from her head. She was just hearing things. No one was watching her anymore. Those days were thankfully long, long gone.
Right?
Chapter 3
Just another perfect political family
That same Saturday night, Hanna Marin sat with her boyfriend, Mike Montgomery, in an old glass bottle warehouse turned photography studio in downtown Hollis. The high-ceilinged industrial space was filled with hot lights, multiple cameras, and several different backdrops—a blue cloth, an autumn scene, and a screen covered with a big, waving American flag, which Hanna found unbearably cheesy.