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Saturday

Natalie

Natalie finds it impossible to get up on the first official morning of summer vacation. She doesn’t feel like going to yoga. Her eyes are gritty from crying.

“Look alive,” her mother nags from the doorway. “I made coffee, and I made you a yogurt parfait. You have a half hour to eat it and get dressed.”

“Maybe I won’t go,” she mumbles.

Her mother makes a sound of irritation, because the yoga membership isn’t free. She’s heard this lecture several times before. I told you Saturday mornings were a bad idea, but you swore you’d go .

Whatever. She’s too mad to care. Her mother didn’t learn much yesterday about her father’s situation. Unless she’s holding back the truth. That’s Natalie’s real fear.

“You know... Beatrice said something about donuts after yoga.”

Natalie doesn’t budge. She just lies there like a lump, wondering how far her mother will push her on this terrible day.

Not far, as it turns out. With an almost inaudible sigh, her mother gives up and retreats from the doorway.

Except now Natalie’s thinking about donuts.

And she doesn’t want her yoga membership canceled.

She gets up and puts on some leggings and a Lululemon top. Pops her hair into a knot and descends the stairs on silent feet.

In the kitchen, her mother is seated at the table with her laptop. Natalie approaches silently. The Google search screen says Lisa Peoples .

“What are you doing?”

Her mother jerks around, startled.

“Who is Lisa Peoples?” Natalie asks.

“Nobody. A dead end.” She closes the tab.

“A dead end for what?” She sits down on the chair beside her mother’s and pulls the yogurt parfait closer.

There are strawberries and blueberries in it. Her mom clearly feels guilty about something.

Natalie picks up her spoon, knowing she ought to say thank you. But she doesn’t. “What are you doing?” she asks.

Her mother frowns. “You remember how I found out that Tim was adopted?”

“A hundred percent. Was he adopted from the mansion? That Home for Wayward Girls?”

What a screwed-up name that is, anyway. So old-fashioned. But even if the words have changed, the idea never will. Boys who have sex are studs. Girls who have sex are sluts or whores. Everybody knows it.

“He was born there,” her mother says quietly. “I didn’t know. But one of the pictures he took off my phone? It was a photo of the mansion’s birth record.”

“Well, that’s not creepy.”

Her mother’s smile is just a twitch of her lips. “It is... odd. But I keep coming back to his interest in the mansion. I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird.”

“Show me these pictures,” Natalie demands through a mouthful of yogurt. If there’s a good reason Tim got killed, they can’t just sleep on it. Her father is sitting in jail right now.

Her mother hesitates for a second, then clicks through some photos on her computer.

Natalie spots Tim’s entry right away. He’s the only Aquarius on the page. “The birth date matches. So who is L. Peoples?”

“Nobody, apparently. I googled it and got nothing. Then I started guessing what the L was for, and it didn’t help. Laura, Lydia, Lisa. There’s nothing in Maine. Maybe she’s dead.”

Natalie sags in the chair. “What would you do if you found her?”

“I don’t know. Tell the police, I guess?”

“You should show them that name. Right now . They need to know there might be another reason someone killed him.”

“Honey,” her mother says softly. “I’m curious, too. But they already know Tim took the photos off my phone. And think about what you’re saying—if somebody really killed Tim for this, do I want to be the next one they go after?”

Natalie shoves another bite of fruit in her mouth to avoid saying what she really thinks. So you’re afraid to do anything? Dad is just going to rot in there?

“Neither of us created this problem,” her mother says. “It’s not our problem to solve.”

She pushes the yogurt away, mostly uneaten. She’s lost her appetite. “I’m going to be late for yoga.”

***

“Surrender yourself to the intention you set for yourself today. Surrender and breathe.”

The yoga teacher loves to talk about inner peace during the final resting pose, but it seems to have the opposite effect. Natalie’s mind is already galloping into complications.

Like that bio exam she still hasn’t taken. And the fact that you can’t visit somebody in the Cumberland County Jail without being eighteen or having your custodial parent’s permission. She checked.

After the class says om together, Beatrice rolls up her mat and smiles at Natalie. “You’ll get a donut with me, right?”

She only hesitates for a half a second. It sounds like something the adults in her life dreamt up to pacify her. Poor kid’s dad is in prison again? A donut will fix it .

On the other hand, they are some seriously good donuts. And Beatrice never lectures her, which is nice.

“Sure. I’d love one.”

There’s a long line at the Holy Donut, and now that summer is here, the lines will only get worse. “I could get a job here,” Natalie muses aloud. “Although... maybe a discount on donuts is a bad idea.”

Beatrice tips her head back and laughs. “It would be a terrible idea for me personally. And it’s not just the calories. Hot oil is bad for your face. I spent a summer working the fryer at a Burger King. I had the worst skin of my life.”

“Good tip.” Although it’s difficult to imagine Beatrice with teen acne. She always looks perfect. Today she looks like Yoga Barbie.

Beatrice gives her a sideways glance. “How are you holding up, anyway? I’m sorry about your dad.”

Ugh . “How did you know about that, anyway?”

“I’ve known your mother awhile. And Harrison is an unusual name. But most people won’t be able to put it together. I’ll bet most people don’t know.”

She’s wrong, though. Natalie is getting a weird vibe from her friends, which makes everything worse.

“My mother won’t talk to him,” she grumbles as the line moves a little. “She says he’s not a good person. The thing is, I wanted to make up my own mind about him. And now I won’t ever have a chance.”

Beatrice is quiet for a second. “Look, I never met my own dad. He thought he was too good for us, and it was a long time until I even knew his name. My mom never got over that rejection. She ran off the rails and died when I was a little girl.”

Well, now Natalie feels like an idiot. Someone always has it worse.

“But look,” Beatrice says. “I wasted a lot of time wondering why my dad never had anything to do with me. I thought maybe I wasn’t a good enough little girl. I used to see all the dads around school. I thought if I was cuter or smarter, my dad would be proud to carry me on his shoulders, too.”

Natalie’s throat feels suddenly, horribly tight. “Get out of my brain.”

She expects Beatrice to laugh, but she doesn’t. Her eyes redden instead. “Listen, girlie, and listen good. I wasted so much time on those thoughts. Please don’t make this mistake, okay? Because I’m telling you, Natalie...” There’s no avoiding her big blue eyes. “You’re already the best there is. The very best.”

She is not going to cry in line at Holy Donuts. But it’s tempting.

“And if that’s not enough to make that man show up in your life until now? That’s a him problem, not a you problem.”

Natalie has to pull in a long, slow breath. Thankfully, the line moves again, giving her something else to focus on. She lifts her eyes to the menu and tries to think through the merits of strawberry glazed versus lemon blueberry.

Beatrice touches her lightly on the back. “If you can’t decide, we could go halfsies.”

“Let’s,” she says with a sniff.