The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Twenty-Two
Celeste
I’m standing at the buffet table where all the shared plates are lined up, supervising Luna and Violette as they serve themselves. They’re endearingly cute, dithering over what to have first.
“Luna, what’s your favorite fruit?” I point at the platter. “Watermelon, grapes, cantaloupe or strawberries?”
She’s adorable, with her tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrates. “My favorite isn’t here.”
“What is it?”
“Apple,” she says, with a shrug. “But I guess I can have strawberries.”
“Apple is my favorite too,” I say, using the tongs to place a few strawberries on a paper plate and handing it to her.
“And grapes are mine,” Violette adds, her cheeks already puffed from sneaking grapes while I’ve been serving Luna.
“You look like a squirrel,” Luna says, with a giggle, pointing at Violette’s cheeks, and puffing out her own with air.
This sets the girls off and they laugh so hard they almost double over. I smile at them, enjoying how they’ve bonded so quickly. Children rarely have the hang-ups of their parents and it’s refreshing. No bickering, no slyness, no jealousy, just a genuine enjoyment of each other’s company.
When their laughter dies down and they resume eating I serve myself a piece of watermelon and beckon them to the bench near the table. That’s when I see Frankie and Andre are watching me. It’s unnerving, being the subject of their scrutiny. They’re probably talking about me. I guess it’s natural, considering what I just divulged to Frankie about Roland. Also, I’m new to the neighborhood and they’re curious about the mother of their daughter’s new best friend, but there’s something in their body language—crossed arms, rigid shoulders—that’s off-putting.
I don’t have the time or the inclination to figure out why they are staring at me, so I say, “Luna, tell me what you like to do.”
She screws up her face, thinking. “I like playing in the park and gymnastics and Mom’s started taking me to this ballet school near the waterfront because I love dancing so much.”
“That sounds like fun. What else?”
Children are so trusting they’ll open up to anyone who asks the right questions and engages with them. Especially if their own parents are distracted by work and too busy to interact on a level beyond telling them to eat their veggies and clean their room.
“I like drawing and coloring and jigsaw puzzles and watching TV.”
“Me too,” Vi says, and they’re soon lost in conversation again, discussing their favorite colors and what’s better to draw, unicorns, monster trucks or fairies. I let their conversation wash over me, making a mental to-do list for tomorrow.
Starting with enrolling Vi at the same ballet school on the waterfront that Luna attends.