The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Two
Celeste
I spotted Frankie Forbes the moment she set foot in the garden.
Who wouldn’t? She stands out like a graceful gazelle in a herd of clumsy hippopotami. Several women are wearing sundresses but the simplicity of Frankie’s, combined with perfect accessories, make her eye-catching. The aqua sheath dress has bold slashes of emerald swirled through it, like the rainbow ice cream Violette often asks for but rarely gets. All those artificial colors aren’t good for my baby. Nothing but the best for my Vi.
But it isn’t just her dress that makes Frankie stand out. She’s one of those enviable women who have a hint of class, like they stand head and shoulders above everyone else.
It surprised me to see her standing alone though. I expected her to be surrounded by adoring worshippers. I’m glad she’d been by herself. It made it easier for me to strike up a conversation, to establish a rapport. I don’t know why I pretended not to know her. Inferiority? Shyness? It’s silly because she’s nothing but pleasant and I enjoyed chatting with her.
As we head toward our girls I feign interest in her general chitchat as she points out who’s who from the neighborhood, when I’m only focused on one thing. Meeting Luna. Moving can be stressful for kids and Violette’s not great with change at the best of times, so I’m hoping she makes friends and that will help her adjust to living here. From our chat, Frankie seems just as keen to foster a friendship between the girls, which is great. From what I’ve seen at today’s turnout, there are a lot of young boys. Maybe there aren’t many girls Luna and Violette’s age who live around here.
I feel like I already know Luna. Frankie doesn’t stop talking about her beautiful daughter during her live videos, waxing lyrical as she prepares the perfect child-friendly vegetable lasagna or banana bread that hides zucchini and carrot too. It’s “Luna-this” and “Luna-that”.
Why doesn’t Vi tell me knock-knock jokes off-camera like Luna does, making Frankie laugh uproariously? Does Luna really go to bed at seven p.m. on the dot and not wake for a full twelve hours, or does she sneak into Frankie’s bed like Vi likes to do with me, afraid of her own shadow?
I know I shouldn’t watch Frankie Forbes. Her competency and perfection make me feel bad about myself. But I can’t look away, drawn in by her charisma like the rest of her millions of viewers. Her proficiency intimidates me and I expected to dislike her because of it. When the realtor mentioned her name as I inspected the house before signing the rental agreement I thought it would be daunting to live next door to someone so perfect. But Frankie in person surprises me. She’s… nice. Normal. Almost reticent, with a hint of vulnerability I never expected.
We’re almost at the cupcake table when I spy Luna already chatting with Vi and my daughter is more animated than I’ve ever seen her. I breathe a sigh of relief, short-lived when a man detaches himself from a couple and joins us, and ridiculously, I’m nervous.
“Hey, beautiful, glad you could finally make it.” He slides an arm around Frankie’s waist and plants a resounding kiss on her mouth. “What took you so long?”
Before Frankie can respond, he says, “Let me guess. You were getting the gift wrapping just right.”
“Nothing wrong with good presentation.” Frankie arches away from him slightly, as if uncomfortable with his overt display of affection. “Andre, I’d like you to meet Celeste Reagan. She’s our new neighbor. Celeste, this is my husband.”
He’s tall, with dark blond hair in a ruffled surfer-cut, dark blue eyes bordering on indigo and a wide smile. They make a good-looking couple.
“Pleased to meet you,” he says, barely glancing at me. “Would you ladies like a drink?” Frankie and I ask for sparkling water and he bounds away like an eager puppy, his long, loping stride indicative of a man who likes to go places fast.
“If our girls start hanging out together, you’ll see Luna has inherited his energy,” Frankie says, her laugh self-deprecating, but I detect a hint of weariness rather than admiration.
“How long have you been married?”
“Six and half years, but sometimes it feels like forever.”
“Don’t all wives feel that way after two years?”
“That long?” I laugh at her sarcasm and she smiles. “Don’t mind me. I’m tired and I’ve got a lot of work to do after this.”
“What do you do?”
Her eyebrows rise slightly and I’m glad she believes my act. After pretending I didn’t know her earlier, I’m too embarrassed to admit I watch her religiously, usually at the end of a day after Violette’s in bed and I’m curled up on the couch with a glass of wine.
“I’m a lifestyle vlogger.”
I feign confusion. “I’m a bit of a dinosaur, so, similar to all this gender reveal stuff, I don’t really know what that is.”
“I make videos and post them online, mostly about motherhood. I talk about my daily life, activities, interests, funny stories, cooking, decorating. A bit of anything and everything, really. People seem to enjoy it.”
I hear a squeal and glance over to see the kids, Violette included thank goodness, engaged in a game of tag. Frankie and I share an indulgent smile, pleased our daughters are holding their own with the rowdy boys. “That sounds… different.”
She laughs at my naivety. “It started out as a bit of fun and has grown so huge I don’t know what to do most days. It’s exhausting trying to come up with new stuff to talk about.”
“You film at home, right? Must be great.”
She nods, pensive. “It is, but sometimes I envy those mothers who get to walk out the door and compartmentalize their home life as separate from their work life, whereas my worlds are constantly colliding.”
She sounds sad and for a second I pity her. Before I remember she probably doesn’t have a clue what it’s like to have it tough, to raise a child on her own, to want to feel safe and protected.
I might tell her what that’s like one day but for now, I’ll take it slow until we know each other better. I don’t have many friends. None I can count on, and while I think this whole gender reveal is stupid, I like the camaraderie among the neighbors.
Surprisingly, I feel like I almost belong here.