Page 52 of The Secrets We Keep

Rob said nothing for a long time. Finally, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he was watching the flickering shadows. Maybe he was simply thinking. “You really want to know?”

“More than anything,” Jasper said. He moved so that his head rested on Rob’s chest.

Chapter 15

“THE TROUBLEstarted a few years ago, on one of Heather’s birthdays,” Rob said. “I’d gone out to Indian Wells to her house for a party her mom was throwing. It was one of those gatherings that Heather had come to despise almost as much as I did. See, my sister-in-law was about one thing and one thing only—impressing people.

“So the birthday party had little to do with Heather, really. It was about showing off for her friends. Heather’s mom came from Vegas, literally trailer trash. And I’m sorry to say that, but it was true. I think marrying into money was a two-edged sword. She loved having it, but never felt like she deserved it. So she was forever trying to live up to the image she thought people had, was always trying to show she was one ofthem, whoevertheyare.

“Lavish. The party was lavish, around their big swimming pool.” Rob laughed bitterly. “That pool belonged in a public park. It was huge and surrounded by boulders, cacti, ocotillo trees. There was a big fountain in the middle, lit up like the Bellagio. It looked like some kind of mirage imagined by Walt Disney—or Liberace. It was, though, exactly like Amber, that was Heather’s mom’s name: plastic, pretty, but not real.

“There were two bartenders, maids in uniform running around with trays of canapes—shrimp, lobster, pate. Liquor of all kinds flowed freely. But of course the toast, which Amber would give, had to be with Dom Perignon. There was live music, a band that played 80s hits, Amber’s favorites. They were damn good. When they weren’t playing, there was a string quartet. Seriously. It was fucked-up.

“None of Heather’s friends were there. The party was all people Amber and Herb wanted to impress—local politicians, minor celebrities, neighbors that had even more money than they did.”

Rob paused and swallowed. The look on his face was strained.

“I found Heather alone in her room, crying. Of course she was. How would you feel if someone else took your birthday and made it all about them? I knew Heather well enough to know that, if she had her druthers, she’d have been happy with a small family dinner or a night out with the couple of girlfriends she did have. Hell, maybe even alone with a good book. I think she was reading lots of Flannery O’Connor’s stuff at that point.

“I asked her, ‘What doyouwant? What would makeyouhappy for your birthday?’

“She looked at me with those beautiful but red-rimmed eyes. I swear I remember her saying this. ‘You’re my favorite uncle. I love you so much. Can we just get out of here? Go somewhere quiet—where we can eat something that isn’t fancy, that doesn’t cost thirty bucks a pound?’

“I knew just the spot. ‘Come on. Get out of that party dress and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.’ She complied so quickly, she was almost a blur.

“We snuck out through the kitchen door, passing only the help, who were busy getting the cake ready, arranging fresh lilies and irises around its base. One of the ladies smiled at us as though she knew we were making our getaway.

“I was glad I’d parked in the road rather than using the valets they’d set up. We got in my car and I drove straight west—to downtown Palm Springs and Sherman’s restaurant on Tahquitz.”

“What kind of place is that?” Jasper asked.

“It’s a Jewish deli.”

“Really?” Jasper had never known Lacy to eat anything other than junk. She loved Popchips, Pop-Tarts, and Corn Pops. She thought of ketchup as a vegetable.

“Yeah, it was kind of our place. She loved their matzo ball soup and the brisket sandwich, which had latkes instead of bread.”

Jasper nodded. “That’s my girl.”

“We had a wonderful dinner that night—just the two of us. We laughed at her mom’s silicone boobs, her collagen lips, her bleached-blonde hair. Heather said she looked like a cartoon or a puppet. We talked, really talked, over root beer about Heather’s dreams and aspirations. She wanted to go back to school, study history, get her law degree and work as a criminal defense attorney.”

“That doesn’t sound like her at all,” Jasper said.

Rob put a hand to his chin for a moment. “Maybe that was Heather’s last night in a way. Nothing was ever the same after we got home.”

Thunder rumbled outside, and the rain intensified. Jasper shivered and curled up even closer to Rob.

“Her last night?” Jasper asked.

“Yeah. It was such a great dinner, such a great time. Intimate, you know? Sherman’s is also an amazing bakery, and we had this carrot cake that was to die for. We rode home on a sugar cloud, feeling close.

“And then we got there.

“The party was over. Everyone was gone.

“Amber opened the door. She looked us up and down, mascara smeared around her eyes. Swear to God, I thought of Bette Davis inWhatever Happened to Baby Jane?. ‘How could you?’ she asked, her voice a mixture of rage and hurt. ‘I went to all of this trouble, and you took her away.’ She hit my chest then, hard. I stumbled back. When I looked over at Heather, I could see she was scared. And I knew, too, that she’d seen this version of her mom before: drunk, loud, outraged. She tried to edge by her to get up the stairs to her room.

“She made it about halfway up when Amber stopped her by calling up the stairs, ‘Go ahead. Run and hide. It’s all you’re good for. You’re just like your father here.’ And she pointed at me. I felt even more stung, more struck, than I had when she pushed me a few minutes before.