Chapter 6: Term One

The photo showed a kitchen I knew in every drawer.

A blonde woman in a silk robe stood at the stove with her back to the camera.

She was wearing my apron.

It was the green one with the burn mark, and it hung on a nail by the pantry door.

"Corliss took it through the window at 5:14," Thad said. "She says she's sorry."

"She doesn't need to be sorry."

"She says it's the second morning in a row."

I looked at the clock on the nightstand, which said 5:24.

I put my coat on over my pajama top and went down the stairs two at a time.

Thad drove his husband's van across the river without once asking what I planned to do.

"If you need bail money," he said at a red light, "I have exactly eighty dollars."

"I'm going to stand in a kitchen."

"That's how all my arrests start."

I still had my key.

It had been in the bottom of my duffel since Monday, and I had not known why I took it.

I let myself in through the back door at 5:41.

The kitchen smelled of lemon and warm applesauce.

Juliette stood at the stove, stirring, with a spoon held by the neck.

She turned and her whole body went still.

"Aubrey."

"Good morning," I said. "That's my apron."

"It was hanging on the nail."

"It's been on that nail since I was twenty-five."

On the counter sat the tray, set for the morning.

The glass of lemon water was beaded with cold.

Next to it was a candy thermometer.

"It's sixty-six," Juliette said, a little desperately. "I know it's meant to be sixty-four."

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