Page 103 of Dying to Meet You

“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t mention that she used to wear it almost every day. “Do you know where she got it?”

He looks up at her with gray eyes that are so much like her own. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Why do you need to know?”

“Because he had one, too. The dead guy. They found it in his car.”

“That’s really odd, Natty,” he says quietly. “What does your mother think?”

“She thinks he was after the name of his birth mother before he died. That he was trying to write a story about the Wincotts, and he basically used Mom to learn stuff.”

He puts down his fork. “That’s a dick move.”

“Well, yeah.” She grabs her sandwich again, because gossip is hungry work. “She found the last name of Tim’s birth mother. And she tried googling her, but she doesn’t seem to exist.”

“Hmm.” He watches her chew with a soft expression. “Maybe she was a cyborg who didn’t know she was a cyborg.”

Natalie laughs suddenly and almost coughs with her mouth full.Smooth. “When do I get to see this graphic novel?”

“Probably never,” he says, picking up a sandwich half. “But if I ever finish it, you can have the first copy.”

***

After lunch, they do the dishes together. Then her father disappears into his room to make some calls. “I have to figure out the housing situation,” he says.

It’s tempting to sit on the sofa and wait for him to reappear. Like a lonely puppy. But Natalie goes upstairs instead.

She flops down on her bed and opens her phone to find messages from Tessa.

Tessa: Well????? Is it weird? Is it cool?

It’s both, but for once she doesn’t feel like dissecting it. And she’s supposed to be looking for a summer job. Her mother will ask if she applied anywhere.

She opens her laptop and halfheartedly googles a few touristy shops on the waterfront. Her mother says that’s her best shot—stores that need seasonal help.

After a few minutes, she finds herself googling Saint Raymond instead. The results are mostly from Catholic websites.

L. Peoples, she tries next. Nothing.

Laura Peoples. Lisa Peoples. Lucy Peoples. It turns out that Peoples is a terrible search term, and pretty unusual for a name.

Did you mean Peebles?asks Google.

So that’s what she tries next:L Peebles Portland Maine.

The screen lights up with possibilities. She clicks the link for Facebook, because this woman is old. Sixty at least.

Facebook gives her several L. Peebles results. Lily? Lisa? They’re both too young.

She almost scrolls past Laura, because her avatar is a picture of a sunset, which isn’t helpful. But she clicks on the link, just in case, and scrolls through her feed. It consists mostly of uplifting memes.Be kind.Everyone is fighting a battle that you can’t see.I only drink wine on days ending in Y. And so on.

She’s about to give up when she finds an interesting photo. Someone’s tagged Laura in a group shot of four women outside a stone church. They’re working at what looks like a bake sale. And holy shit. One of the women is familiar.

Natalie doesn’t know her, but she knows exactly where she’s seen her before.

39

Rowan

I walk up my street after work and see a delivery man unloading grocery bags onto my front porch.