“What?” Suddenly all thoughts of the mysterious Russian disappear. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Billie says with a dismissive shake of her head.
As if not worrying about her after Gina’s boyfriend threatened her was even possible.
“Is that why you’re staying near the ocean now?” I ask. Suddenly her switch from city to oceanside living makes sense.
“Yeah, sort of. Like I said, it’s a long story. But I’m safe. I’m just worried about Gina.”
I narrow my eyes. Gina had been with Tommy for a while. He’d even moved her into his house in Jonesboro after she’d finished college, which meant she no longer had to strip to pay her bills.
But Billie and I weren’t big fans. As the years went by, she’d stopped complaining about him or telling us about their arguments. Technically that was a good thing, but the less she told us, the quieter she got. And though she had gotten her college degree in art and design, she never did put it to use.
The friend who had dreamed of becoming an interior designer when we met had morphed into a permanent future bride who was supposedly too busy planning her wedding to look for work.
She also claimed that she and Tommy were going to start trying for a baby just as soon as they got married. But I’d been sending her birth control pills ever since she lost her insurance. She’d never asked me to stop mailing them. In fact, she’d sent me a private email after she announced her move asking me to send them to her hairdresser instead of her new address at Tommy’s house.
Speaking of emails….
“You didn’t tell him about the email, did you?” I ask.
Gina had missed the last two monthly calls with us and then failed to return any of our texts. But just when Billie was fixing to drive from South Carolina to Georgia to go see about her, she’d sent us a rushed email.
Sorry, guys, went to visit my aunt in Canada for a while. Didn’t mean to worry you. Will check in again when I have a chance.
“No, of course, I didn’t tell him she went to Canada. Even with the border closed, he might go looking for her there. But Cynda…” Billie frets her lip. “Do you think that’s where she really is?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. There’s a heavy stone in my stomach now. “I mean she hasn’t gotten in contact again like she said she would. Also, I didn’t know she had an aunt in Canada. Did you?”
Billie shakes her head, her eyes big and worried. “I think we need to try to find her. Make sure she’s safe.”
“Me too,” I say. “But how? Like hire a detective?”
A new idea occurs to me then. “Wait, could you ask your mysterious Russian with the beach house right on the ocean to help us?”
“How did you know he’s Russian? And has a beach house on the ocean?”
“Girl, I am from small town Missouri. We don’t even have to sip the tea. We get all of it with just a whiff. Now, are you going to tell me this long story or what?”
Billie averts her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You are so obviously lying!” I shoot back before the words are hardly out of her mouth.
“Okay, I’m getting off the phone now.” Billie shakes her head with a bitter laugh.
“But wait, I want to hear more about the sexy Russian? Is he mafia or a hockey player? I mean why else would a Russian be in South Caroli—”
“Bye, Cynda!”
This time Billie doesn’t give me a chance to protest again before hanging up.
“Whatever,” I grumble at the “Call Ended” notification.
But at least I didn’t have to explain to my best friend why I was currently living with my ex-lover in our back house.
A new text arrives just as I’m walking in through the back house’s kitchen door. It’s from E. “Laundry done and waiting outside your door along with the mail.”
The twins had been weirdly wonderful during the days I’d been gone. A hadn’t texted me again to intervene in any arguments. And I guess the severity of this virus finally sunk in with E after I had to isolate myself away from them. No more requests to visit friends or go to parties, only offers of help.
My heart cheers as I walk past Rhys, who’s at Grandma’s desk. For somebody who has two weeks off, he always seems to be working. I should ask him about that after I’m done folding the laundry.
But both that question and my joy fade when I open the door.
There’s a letter on top of the mail pile. From R. Smith.
Those movies where someone’s talking about nothing as they walk into the street, then get hit by a car… seeing the letter from the biological mother I’d placed in a hidden away box a few weeks ago—that’s what it felt like. Like getting hit by a car out of the blue.