Page 36 of The Perfect Hosts
“I’m so sorry,” Mellie says in a rush. “The doctor discharged me, and I tried to call the number you gave me, but there was no answer. I can go.” Mellie looks over her shoulder, and Madeline follows her gaze to a car idling in the drive. “It’s an Uber, but I can have him take me home. I’m sorry.” She turns to go.
“No, no!” Madeline says. “Please come in.” Mellie bites her lip and looks back at the driver uncertain as to what to do. “It’s okay, Mellie, really.” Madeline says, waving her hand at the waiting car, signaling the driver that it’s okay for them to go. “Come on in. You must be so tired,” Madeline says, momentarily forgetting her own exhaustion.
Mellie steps over the threshold, and Madeline watches as she takes in her surroundings. It’s not the first time that Madeline has been self-conscious about how much they have.
“You have such a beautiful home,” Mellie says as Madeline leads her to the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Madeline says. “Now, sit down. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“I’m not hungry, but a glass of water would be great.” Mellie says as she sits gingerly on one of the leather stools next to the kitchen island.
“What did the doctors say?” Madeline asks, pulling a glass from one of the cupboards. She fills it with water from the sink, then sets the glass in front of Mellie.
“I’m okay,” Mellie says. “Mostly stiff and sore.”
“You were lucky,” Madeline says, resisting the urge to give the poor girl a hug. She looks so small and sad. Yes, Madeline has lost her best friend, but she still has Wes and her home and her horses. But what does Mellie have?
“Were you able to get ahold of your family?” Madeline asks.
Mellie nods, taking sip of water. “Yeah. I talked to my grandma and my brother. They’d come if they could...”
“It’s hard,” Madeline says. “Being so far away from home.” She remembers those first months away from home. She had just turned eighteen and wanted nothing more than to flee the home that seemed so empty since her mother died. But once gone, she’d desperately missed the drafty farmhouse and the bedroom she’d shared with Lucy.
Mellie nods in agreement but says nothing more, so Madeline presses on, trying to fill the silence. “Where is home?” she asks. “Is that a Southern accent I hear?”
“Uh-huh,” Mellie says. “I know I shouldn’t have shown up here out of the blue like this, but I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to an empty apartment just yet. I tried calling,” she says again apologetically, then begins to cry.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Madeline says. “I told you to let me know if you needed anything. I’m glad you came.” Madeline pats Mellie on the hand. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Mellie says. “I tried to talk to my grandma about what happened, but I didn’t want to make too big of a deal about it because she’d just worry. She’s got enough going on, taking care of my little brother. I don’t really have any friends here yet. I know some people from the catering company, but we’re not really friends, and I can’t really talk to them about it. You know what I mean?” Mellie looks up at Madeline. “Besides they’re all freaked about not being able to work for a while. They have enough to worry about.”
“What?” Madeline asks. “Why?”
“Katherine, the woman who owns the company, got hurt in the explosion, and her catering van was damaged. She had to cancel a bunch of events,” Mellie explains.
“Oh no,” Madeline says. “I didn’t know about Katherine. Is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Mellie says. “But she hurt her shoulder and has to have surgery. She’s not going to be able to work for a while.” Madeline lets this sink in. The ramifications of what happened seem to go on and on. “And so we can’t work. I can’t pay my rent, and my landlord freaked out. Says I have to leave.”
“That’s awful! What about your boyfriend?” Madeline asks. “The baby’s father. If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind,” Mellie says. “He’s not around anymore. Couldn’t handle this.” She taps her stomach.
“Oh, Mellie, I’m so sorry.” Madeline says. Wes was so excited to find out Madeline was pregnant. So loving and attentive. “But it’s better to find out now rather than later. It might be a blessing that he’s out of the picture.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Mellie says, wiping her eyes. “I’m not feeling so good. Do you think I could use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” Madeline says, getting to her feet and ushering Mellie to the nearest bathroom. Once the door is shut, Madeline can hear the retching. Morning sickness, she thinks, on top of everything else the poor girl is going through. Mellie emerges a few minutes later, pale-faced and red-eyed. “Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes,” Madeline offers.
“That’s okay,” Mellie says. “I need to figure out what I’m going to do now. I should go.”
“I insist,” Madeline says. “Morning sickness is the worst. Come on.” Mellie continues to protest as Madeline leads her to one of the guest rooms, pulls back the covers of the bed. “Rest, Mellie. You’ll feel better after a good nap.” And before she can stop herself, she adds, “You can stay as long as you need.”
Madeline forces herself to eat some toast, though the bread goes down like sandpaper. She gathers up their smoky clothes from the day before and considers tossing them in the washing machine but ends up taking them into the garage and throwing them into the garbage can. The minutes tick by at an excruciatingly slow pace. She presses her ear to the guest bedroom: all is quiet. Mellie must still be sleeping.
She goes upstairs to her room, lies down on the bed, and tries to read but can’t concentrate. She gets up and wanders into the baby’s nursery where everything is a pristine white—the walls, the flooring, the crib, and its bedding. On one of the walls is a huge art piece that Wes had commissioned forthe space—an all-white mixed-media 3-D rendition of a Camarillo horse with flared nostrils and wild eyes, breaking through the canvas as if it’s leaping into the room. It’s meant to be dreamy, otherworldly, but doesn’t quite hit the mark, but Madeline doesn’t want to hurt Wes’s feelings by complaining. Despite the decor choices, Madeline loves this space with its many windows and panoramic view of the property. She opens one window, and a soft, warm breeze dances across her skin. From here, she can see the front of the property and the road that leads to the house as well as the meadow that leads to the foot of the mountains.
She hears the crunch of tires on gravel. Someone is coming. The vehicle, a pickup truck, appears. It’s approaching too fast, barely staying on the road before hanging a sharp right onto the lane leading to the house. It’s probably the sheriff or even Agent Saldano coming back to talk with them. Or perhaps a concerned friend or neighbor. Madeline sighs. She’s so tired, and talking to anyone right now seems like a herculean effort.