“Then I’m coming home tonight.”
“Take tomorrow off, too. You’ve earned it.”
I immediately gathered my belongings. Before heading out, I tried calling Natalie once more, hoping to hear her voice directly. Again there was no reply, so I sent a message:
I’m coming home early. Don’t tell Mom. I want to surprise you.
It was delivered but never opened.
The House That Didn’t Feel Like Home
Just after eight, I pulled into our driveway. Natalie’s car wasn’t there. Through the uncovered living-room window, Beverly and Mallory sat comfortably on our couch, with takeout containers and shopping bags nearby.
I slipped inside. Mallory looked up, her smile vanishing.
“Wesley? What are you doing here?”
Beverly jumped up, knocking a cushion aside.
“Honey! You weren’t supposed to be back until Friday.”
“Where’s Natalie?”
Neither replied immediately.
“She’s resting.”
“Where’s her car?”
