“Yeah,” Viola said. “You want to sneak out the kitchen door now, before anyone knows you’re gone?”

  “Don’t you need me here?” Her voice was laughably flat.

  Viola winced, holding a hand to her belly, and shook her head. “Go, before they come in here. And drive slowly past the Mattson place and see what you can see.”

  “Oh my God, I love you so much.” Rainy’s relief gave way to affection and she gave her friend an awkward, over-the-belly hug before heading for the door.

  “Your present is on the front porch.”

  “It better be good,” she heard Viola say as the door closed behind her.

  5

  Then

  Tanned faces stared at her from all around the room. No one was pale here, Summer noted. Even in California there were pale people, but not here. She liked that; it meant they were outside a lot. Everyone was wearing the same white T-shirt. She felt silly in her brightly colored, mismatched clothes...and then she felt embarrassed. She didn’t have much to choose from: a couple T-shirts with flowers and pants with stripes, everything faded. Taured had them stand side by side next to a table ringed with blue and yellow balloons as he spoke into a microphone, introducing them. The room squealed with glee and everyone clapped their hands for Summer and Lorraine, their newest family members. She felt so important in that moment she didn’t see the gift being handed to her, a basket overflowing with things. Her mother was handed another, and she politely thanked the room for them both. Summer was counting the kids in the room, all looking at her with equal parts jealousy and curiosity.

  “We’re celebrating someone else tonight,” one mother said to a crying five-or six-year-old.

  “What about cake?” the kid screamed. “I want my cake!”

  There was, indeed, a cake set out on a table—white with pink roses. Summer was allowed to cut the first slice like it was her birthday. She cut a giant square where all the frosted roses were clustered and was told that that was her slice. The kid from earlier screamed again and his mom carried him out by the armpits as he kicked and wailed. Little brat! Summer thought. The adults were all drinking beer—the one her dad called “bitch beer.” Even her mama had one in her hand. She wasn’t smiling like Summer thought she’d be, but at least she was talking to people. The mother came back in with the bratty kid. She was holding his hand and his face was red.

  “Come here,” Taured said. The little boy went to him. Summer stopped chewing as she waited to see what would happen. The kid didn’t seem afraid of Taured. In fact, he hugged his leg and stared up into his face.

  “Enoch Aaron, let’s welcome our guest and not be selfish.”

  “Yes, Papa.” The boy seemed chastised, dipping his head.

  Summer’s eyes shot back to Taured’s face. He was a dad? Her mom hadn’t mentioned that part. She looked around for the boy’s mother, wanting to remember which of the women it was, but everyone looked the same: smiling, smiling, smiling.

  At some point, an older woman with bushy gray hair wandered over to where Summer was finishing her cake and handed her a card. The woman was moon-faced and rosy, like a storybook character.

  “I’m Appy,” she said, folding her hands at her waist. “That’s ‘Appy’ with an A—not ‘Happy’—a common mistake. Though I am very happy.” She grinned. “Everyone signed it—even the babies,” she said, pointing to the card. “We are all so happy you’ve come to live with us. You can’t even imagine how excited we’ve been to meet you.”

  It all felt so overwhelming and good, like syrup on pancakes. And then there was a feast, the food unusually colorful compared to what she was used to: pistachio salad, gelatin molds with the fruit floating inside like bugs in amber and a popcorn machine they said they only used on special occasions. They grilled hamburgers and hot dogs and chicken legs outside by the playground, and a tall girl with blond pigtails came to take her hand and offered to show her the animals.

  That night, Summer sat in a bath with a blue bath bomb—her favorite color—and watched in fascination as the foam built and then fizzled away to nothing. The bath was in the guesthouse, where they were staying until the paint fumes left their smaller room. Taured had told them that the guesthouse had been used for visitors to the prison, and occasionally the warden when he spent the night, so it was special. Despite her comments in the car, Summer didn’t think it was creepy at all to be in a prison; it was an adventure. Her dad always talked about taking her to Alcatraz, but then he’d died. To her, it was the perfect setting: corridors and secret rooms, an animal farm with tiny piglets and chicks, and, very best of all, a large family. For the first months at the compound, Summer was radiant.

  “Look at her, Lorraine!” Taured would point to her on the playground, smiling at her in pure delight. “She’s so happy.” Summer shone brighter and brighter to meet their comments, while her mother watched her, guarded. She smiled less and less, Summer noticed, and she wasn’t very friendly to the other women when they tried to include her in things.

  They had moved into their new space exactly four days later.

  Two twin beds sat on either side of the small room, with a wardrobe between them. Up near the ceiling were two shoebox-size windows; Summer would have to stand on her tiptoes on the bed to see out of them. It was kind of dark, even with the lights on. The room had a metal sink for water, but Taured explained that refrigerators weren’t allowed in the rooms. “We want everyone to eat together and not have an excuse to hide away,” he said, winking at Summer.

  “Who wants to eat alone?” She spun around the room, arms stretched wide. There wasn’t really space, and her mama told her to stop.

  “Exactly,” Taured said. “But adults get weird sometimes and want to hide instead of fixing the problem.” He looked at her mother then. It was a strange look that she didn’t understand. Her mother had loosened her braid and was shaking out her hair, something she only did when she wanted to hide her face.

  “Right. No hiding,” Summer announced, drawing his attention back to her.

  “So...what do you think, Summertime?”

  She grinned at the nickname. The room was small and weird, but she felt happy.

  “It’s good. I like it.”

  She turned to her mother as soon as Taured left, hands on hips. Just as she expected, Lorraine was sour-faced and pensive. She hated when her mother got like this: her lips folded, the seam between them a bright white. Too much in her own head, her dad used to say.

  “You hate it,” she said accusingly. “You made me come here and now you hate it!” Summer wanted a fight; sometimes it was the only way to draw the truth out of her mother.

  “I never said that.” Lorraine was digging around in her purse, murmuring something to herself that Summer couldn’t hear.

  “I want to stay.” She almost stomped her foot but thought better of it.

  Her mother’s head snapped up.

  “Why, because they gave you cake and a basket of T-shirts?” Lorraine slapped her forehead once, twice, and then she got up and strode across the small room. She opened the door, looked out and closed it again.

  “Well, you’re going to get your wish for a little while yet, Summer.” Her voice wasn’t nice. Summer didn’t like it.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Lorraine dropped her voice. “Look, we don’t have another option right now, so we have to stay...but not for long, okay? Just to get on our feet.” She was talking to herself now, pacing the small space between the beds. Summer sat down cross-legged on her own bed to listen and to get out of her way.

  “Why don’t you like it?”

  Her mama stopped abruptly and looked at Summer like she had a thousand things to say. Summer braced herself for a lecture, but instead she got only a handful of words.

  “This place isn’t right. He’s different than I remember. I don’t trust anyone here and you aren’t to, either, do you hear me?”

  Summer nodded, her eyebrows lifting on their own. “But they paid all of your credit cards. I thought you said—”

  “We’re going to be foreigners in their land—do you know what that means?”

  “Um, no,” Summer said.

  “We live here, we eat their food, we heal up and wait, but we are not to think like them. Their ways are not our ways.”

  Summer smiled. She only cared about the food, anyway.

  “How long can we stay?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m trying to decide if I should call your grandparents.”

  “You hate them. You said living with them was a nightmare,” Summer reminded her. It wasn’t fair! Her mother couldn’t just drag her around the country, could she? She had to go to school and have stability. Her mother used to yell that at her dad when they fought. “Summer needs stability!” And she was about to bring that up when her mother said something that made her shut her trap.

  “Some nightmares are worse than others.”

  6

  Now

  She didn’t want to lie to him when she was already omitting most of her truths, so when Grant brought up the girls’ trip again while they were having dinner in Seattle, she took a large sip of her water and buckled down for a squall.

  “Stephen mentioned that you were considering going on the trip with the girls. Still thinking about it, according to the Tiger wives.” His voice had a hopeful tone.

  Her hand stilled halfway to her mouth. She set her fork down instead of taking the bite and sighed.

  “No, actually, I specifically told them I wasn’t.”

  Grant looked—not crestfallen, but worse than that. Disappointed.

  “Why is it so important to you where I spend my weekend? You’re going to be ten thousand miles away.”

  She’d just tossed back an oyster and was licking brine from her lips.

  “Look, I’m not going to be available for most of the time I’m there. As soon as we land, we’re going straight to the Tokyo office, and I’ll be in meetings all day. It would give me peace of mind knowing you were...not alone.” She heard him choose that word carefully and it bothered her. Suspend your feminism for a moment and hear him, she told herself. Picking up her fork, she speared salad and filled her mouth until she was unable to talk.

  “The weather forecast says it’s going to snow, and I don’t like you up here by yourself. If you lose power, you’re not going to be able to work, anyway, and you won’t even be able to see four inches in front of your face.”

  She knew this was true.

  She glanced at him, annoyed, still chewing. It was nice to be cared about; it wasn’t so nice to be controlled.

  “Then why did you ask me to move here? This is my home now, and I have to get used to all the weather and quirks that come with it.”

  She thought she was doing an excellent job of defending her position, and besides, she liked her chances by herself more than she liked her chances in a group of women she’d only known for a year.

  “Grant, I—”

  “I already bought the ticket.” It came out in a rush and flopped between them like a dead fish. Grant was sweating, a nervous tell; Rainy studied his face, half amazed and half horrified as she tried to form words.

  “What?” She caught the edge of hysteria in her own voice and cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry, Rainy, I really am.” He stared at the ceiling, a look of pain on his face.

  “Spit it out,” Rainy sighed.

  “They talked to me about the trip before they asked you. Two weeks before. I was so thrilled that when they sent me the links I booked your ticket right away, not even thinking to ask you.” He looked really uncomfortable now, and Rainy remembered how enthusiastic he’d been the night she came home and told him.

  “I never considered that you wouldn’t want to go, I’m sorry.”

  Why would they talk to Grant about it before they spoke to her? And why would he not even consider that she might not want to go? Did he not know her at all? She felt betrayed and, beyond that, annoyed. Were they checking with him for permission, or to be considerate? Either way, she didn’t like it.

  “I’m an idiot. I just thought it would be good for you, but it’s really not on me to decide what’s good for you. You left everything for me in New York and, in a way, I’m trying to force you to put down roots by making friends.”

  She was almost as touched by his honesty as she was upset by the weight of what he was saying. She might not have told him everything about her past, but she had explained to him who she was and what she needed.

  “Grant, I’m not super into having relationships outside of my partner. It’s hard for me to trust people, and you know that.”

  “I do, but I’ve known some of these people since high school. I trust them, and I want you to trust them, too.”

  Rainy licked her lips. “Okay, I get that, but it can’t be on your terms, it has to be on mine.”

  Grant, who had been looking more than sorry for the last five minutes, said, “I surrender. I was wrong. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I want to make you permanent in my life.”

  You could just ask me to marry you, she thought. Something she would never say out loud, for fear it would make her sound desperate. That’s some misogynist shit right there.

  Grant was obliviously happy; now that he knew he was forgiven, the relief was pooling off him. Rainy gave in because she didn’t want to fight anymore, and because it wasn’t Grant’s fault that he didn’t understand certain parts of her. He tried, but he was mostly fumbling in the dark, figuring her out by trial and error. You could just tell him. And then what? He’d see her differently if she told him about her mother and Taured.

  And if she went on the trip to Vegas, would it satisfy his version of who she was supposed to be? She could tell him why she didn’t want to go to Vegas particularly, or she could just go to Vegas.

  “I’ll go,” Rainy said.

  Grant blinked at her like he hadn’t heard right. That made Rainy smile.

  “Am I allowed to be excited?” he asked seriously. Rainy rolled her eyes, then nodded.

  * * *

  On the day of their flight, Rainy accidentally slept in. At ten past twelve, she tossed her carry-on into the truck’s passenger seat and raced to drop Shep off at Mr. Bean’s before setting off for the airport. They’d tried to get her to drive with them—the Tiger Mountain carpool—but she’d insisted that there wasn’t enough room for them all to sit comfortably in Ursa’s Jeep and that she’d meet them at the gate.

  When she finally did make it to their gate, the plane was already boarding. The women were lingering around the gate, talking to the flight attendant, when she arrived, flustered and rosy-cheeked from her brisk walk over. Braithe embraced her in relief, while Ursa and Mac fussed over her. Tara, she noticed, glanced at her watch before reminding the girls they needed to board. High on the near-miss, they clambered down the walkway to the plane, recounting their morning to Rainy in code words and raised eyebrows. Mackenzie had had a pregnancy scare, but she’d taken a test in the airport bathroom, and no, she wasn’t, but what a morning. Their seats were all separate, and Rainy had to check her carry-on at the last minute due to lack of overhead space. But when they finally did take off, she felt oddly relaxed and ready.

  For what? she asked herself as she closed her eyes and settled back into her seat. She slid a Xanax between her lips for good measure and tucked her AirPods into her ears. Before she knew it, they were landing, their plane bouncing happily along the runway like a puppy. They hauled their carry-ons to baggage claim, where the rest of them grabbed their oversize suitcases off the rack. Rainy looked down at her own tiny bag and temporarily panicked that she hadn’t brought enough, then consoled herself with the fact that the shopping in Vegas came as easily as the slots. A memory edged its way into her mind: she’d been a kid at the time, barely a teenager, and her mother had pulled her through this very airport, jogging, she was in such a hurry. And then she’d heard her mama ask for two tickets to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and her panic had gone into overdrive. Her grandparents? That was her mother’s big plan? But then her mother had vanished, leaving her alone in the airport.

  Braithe snapped her fingers near Rainy’s face. “Hey! You okay? What are you doing?” She’d rolled her two bags, one big and one small, over to where Rainy was waiting, and her eyes were wide. “You, like, had this look on your face. I thought you were going to scream or cry.”

  Rainy smiled at her weakly.

  Braithe was wearing a white silk top and white pants, and somehow, even after the flight, she managed to look fresh.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I was just—it was nothing. Are they ready to go?” She spotted Ursa, motioning for them near the doors that led outside.

  “Looks like there’s a cab ready,” Braithe said. They ran for it, and then they were outside, Nevada’s warm breath reacquainting itself with Rainy’s skin. She brushed off the familiarity, allowing their excited voices to fill her head instead. Mac was telling them where she had made reservations for dinner. How many outfit changes would they need? Mac was asking. She’d had two cocktails on the plane and was slurring her words.

  “Hey, guys.” They all stopped talking and turned to look at her at the same time. Rainy pointed to the sky, her nose scrunched up.

  “Oh, no, no, no!” Tara had her nose pressed to the window behind Rainy. “Did anyone check the weather? Was this supposed to happen?”

  A flash of lightning punctuated Tara’s words, and everyone made their own sound of distress.

  “Sudden storm, turned this way,” the driver said. Jersey, Rainy thought. He’s from Jersey. “Hope it don’t ruin your plans.”

  Ruin their plans. Taured had ruined her mother’s plans that day at the airport. She reached up to touch her forehead, where an ache had already rooted itself behind her eyes. Her head hadn’t felt right since...