Chapter 4: Friday Dinner

Cynthia's townhouse had a white front door with a wreath already on it, and Annette rang the bell twice.

"She hung a wreath in September," Annette said. "That tells you everything."

"It doesn't tell me anything."

"It tells me she wants to be looked at." My sister straightened her green cardigan. "Remember, you're the guest of honor. Act like it."

I held a bottle of wine in one hand and my phone in the other, with the photo of Cynthia's texts still open on the screen.

The door opened.

"Joanna!" Cynthia said. "And you brought Annette. How lovely."

She did not look surprised for even a second.

She kissed my cheek and took the wine from my hand.

"I'm so glad you came," she said. "Russell said you might be tired."

"I'm not tired," I said.

"Then come in, come in."

The living room was warm and lit with candles.

Cedric's parents sat on the sofa with glasses of white wine.

Cedric stood by the window, tall and awkward in a corduroy jacket, and when he saw me he came straight across the room.

"Joanna," he said, and hugged me hard. "I'm glad you're here. I've been telling Hannah for days that you should be."

"Where is she?"

"Running late from school." He kept hold of my shoulders a moment longer. "She'll be here. I promise."

Cedric's mother came over with her hand out.

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