All the Beautiful Lies Read online

  “No, I know. What about the store in New York?”

  Harry had actually been surprised that Ron Krakowski, who had bought out his father’s share in the original Ackerson’s Rare Books in Manhattan, had not come to the service. Ron had been Bill’s closest friend for many years, a true savant with an encyclopedic knowledge of the rare-book trade. Harry did remember hearing from his father once that Ron had become one of those city dwellers terrified to step off the asphalt island of Manhattan. That was probably the reason he hadn’t made it to Maine.

  “What about the store in New York?” John asked, confusion in his voice.

  “I thought maybe they’d buy up your stock, if you decided to close shop.”

  “Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of that, but they probably would. When can you come in?”

  Harry told John that he’d come and help out in the store on Tuesday. The thought of going in the following day was just too much to stomach. John looked visibly relieved that help was on the way.

  His beer gone, Harry checked in briefly with Aunt Anne’s kids; all three were milling around the food, demolishing a bowl of Ruffles and some French onion dip. It was clear that he remembered them better than they remembered him, or maybe they were all at that stage of teenage boy in which conversation and facial expressions disappear. Aunt Anne came over and helped out, repeating to Harry several times that he could come visit whenever he wanted to and for however long. While talking with his aunt, he kept an eye on Alice, who was sitting on one of the T-back chairs, a plate of untouched pasta salad on her lap. Carl Ridley stood next to her, a hand on the back of her chair, while a familiar woman—was she a librarian?—bent at the waist to offer Alice her condolences.

  “You should get back to Mather,” Harry told Paul, who had just extricated himself from what looked like a stilted one-on-one with Billy Herrick, Chrissie’s husband and one of those men who had married a talkative woman so that he, himself, could retire from the act of small talk.

  “You sure?” Paul said.

  “Yes, please. I wish I could come with you.”

  “You could, you know.”

  Harry made a face. “Not really. I mean, Alice . . . and even if she didn’t mind, I don’t think I could stand hanging around with a bunch of drunks celebrating graduation.”

  “You wouldn’t have to go to any parties. We could just hang out one last night in my dorm room. Kim would obviously love to see you.”

  Harry briefly considered it. Telling Alice that he needed to tie up a couple of loose ends at college, making sure that Chrissie would spend the night so she wouldn’t be alone, and then leaving with Paul, back to college for one more night before the rest of his life began. The thought was tempting, but also exhausting. More concerned people, more condolences. What Harry really wanted to do was to go up to his room, shut the door, strip off his too-tight suit, and crawl under the covers. And there was also a part of him that wanted to stay close to Alice, to not leave her alone in the house. He told Paul he thought he needed to stay, then waited while Paul said good-bye to Alice.

  He walked Paul to his car. They hugged good-bye. “You’re not alone, buddy,” Paul said, and Harry was briefly spooked to hear the words, realizing that had been his primary emotion since hearing of his father’s death. He’d felt alone, the world emptied of his family.

  “Yeah, well,” Harry said, and began to back away.

  “Something wrong beside the obvious?” Paul asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been not quite yourself this whole year.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind. Now is not the time, obviously. I’m just worried about you, and so is Kim.”

  “You Kim’s spokesperson now?”

  “Sure, why not?” Paul said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I’m off. You need anything, like for me to come back, or someone to talk with, just text, okay? And hang in there.”

  The Prius’s wheels spun on the crushed shells, then the car was speeding out onto York Street. Harry watched as Paul drove out of sight, a trail of cigarette smoke coming from his lowered window. The air temperature had cooled, and the sky above was dark with crosshatched clouds. Paul’s obvious pity annoyed Harry, and he took several deep breaths. Harry considered going back into the party, saying his good-byes, then retreating to his room, but once he’d walked back through the front door he found himself going immediately to the stairs. He’d talked to everyone he needed to talk to, and no one would blame him for wanting to be alone.

  In his room he thought again about the dark-haired woman at the funeral service, wondering who she was. It was easier to think of the mystery of her and not the greater mystery of his father’s death. Maybe Alice knew who she was. Alice, as far as he knew, had always lived in Kennewick, and she knew a lot of people. He’d ask her tomorrow. It would give them something to talk about.

  Chapter 6

  Then

  A week before Alice graduated high school, Edith announced that she wanted to throw a graduation party. Alice initially refused—telling her mother that the last thing she wanted was any kind of party—but finally agreed to a nice dinner at home.

  “Invite your friend Gina,” Edith said. “She’s never been here, has she?”

  Alice wanted to say, For good reason, but instead told her mother she would check and see if Gina was free, but she doubted it.

  The date was set for the Friday night before the Saturday morning graduation. Even though Gina knew all about Alice’s mom—how all she did was drink and take pills, and it was always a small miracle if she made it through dinner without passing out—Alice still wasn’t sure she wanted Gina to actually witness it. Besides, that wasn’t her real life. Alice’s real life was the dinners for two at the French restaurant with Jake—more frequent now—and the nights they spent together watching television, her mother barely even conscious.

  Sometimes, when the three of them were together, Alice constructed elaborate fantasies in which Jake and she were married, and Edith was their sickly child. A burden, but one they bore together. But mostly, Alice imagined that it was just the two of them, just Jake and her, living a perfect life together, years and years passing. Somehow, in these daydreams, Alice got older but Jake stayed the same. No one would mistake them for father and daughter. Maybe one day they’d even have their own child. A daughter. Alice sometimes saw her in her mind, and it was as if she were real, an actual child being remembered. She’d love swimming in the ocean, and grow up speaking both French and English because of all the time they’d spend in France. Genevieve would love her mother, but she’d love her father most of all, doting on him.

  “My mom is making a big fancy dinner for the night before graduation,” Alice told Gina.

  “Are you inviting me?” Gina laughed.

  “Thinking about it.”

  “I’ll come. I need to see the real Edith in action.”

  Alice clenched her jaw, suddenly wishing she’d just told her mom that Gina was busy that night. “Sorry, Al,” Gina quickly said. “That was a rude thing to say, but, yes, yes, I want to come to dinner. What is she cooking?”

  “Cornish game hens, I think. I told her about a hundred years ago that they were my favorite, so . . .”

  “Who else is going to be there?”

  “Just you and me, and Edith, and Jake. Should be a hoot.”

  “It’s perfect, because my mom is inviting half my family for that whole entire week, including the cousins I told you about, the NASCAR ones, and I’m going to need some time out by Friday night, and there is no way my mom will say no to me going to your house for dinner. But you gotta promise me one thing, Al. We’ll go to that party afterward, at Justin’s house. You don’t have to stay, but you have to come with me. I’m not going alone. You promise? And I get to pick what you wear.”

  Alice promised. Gina, now that she had other friends besides Alice, including a dim but nice boyfriend that she�
��d met doing the yearbook, was always trying to get Alice to come to parties, or hang out with other kids. Alice would occasionally agree, not really because she wanted to, and not really to make Gina happy, but because she saw it as practice for the adult world. It was important to know how to talk with someone in a social situation, even if that someone was a dumb high school boy with a can of beer in his hand. And now that Alice was a senior, the incident with Scott Morgan from freshman year was ancient history. Alice was no longer the slut from Biddeford who would give it up to anyone. She’d changed all that, and now she was known as the aloof girl, too sophisticated for high school boys.

  “Yay!” Gina said. “I’ll tell Justin. He’ll pee himself.”

  According to Gina, Justin Lashaway, another friend of hers from cross-country, had a huge crush on Alice. “Whatever. I’ll go with you, but I’m not staying long. You agree to that, right?”

  “Yeah, fine. What time at your mom’s house?”

  On the day of the dinner party, Alice stayed home all day helping her mother. They’d cleaned the already immaculate condo, made the hors d’oeuvres—asparagus wrapped in ham—set the table, and done all the prep for the dinner. It was four o’clock, three hours before Gina was supposed to arrive, and everything had been done. Edith hadn’t been drinking, at least not that Alice could tell, but she was talking a blue streak, and grinding her teeth, and it was clear she was on something.

  “You okay, Mom?” Alice asked.

  “Of course I’m okay. I want to make a perfect dinner for my perfect daughter to celebrate her graduating from high school and becoming a woman.”

  “You’re just so jumpy.”

  “Am I?” Edith said. Then, with a wide, lunatic grin on her face, she began jumping up and down, her shoes clacking on the tile floor. Alice just stared. She was used to seeing her mother passed out, mouth open, but she wasn’t used to seeing her act unhinged. She was clearly on some kind of drug.

  “Mom. Stop. You’re freaking me out. Maybe you should have a drink.”

  “What time is it?” Edith asked, glancing at an imaginary watch on her wrist. At least she’d stopped jumping. “I told my Jakey that I’d wait till he got home before having a drink because I think he’s worried I’m going to embarrass you in front of your friend.”

  “You just seem a little wired. Let me make you a drink. What do you want?”

  “Just so long as you tell Jake that it was your idea, and not mine, if he gets upset. Let’s have some champagne together. I bought it for both of us. Thought it would be okay for you to have a little bubbly on your birthday.”

  “Sure,” Alice said, not correcting her mother that it was a graduation, and not a birthday party.

  They drank champagne together on the deck so Edith could smoke. She went through four of her cigarettes—long, thin menthols—in about thirty minutes, talking the whole time about nothing. Alice was just relieved that she seemed to be getting a little bit calmer, but she barely paid attention to the words her mother was saying. Instead, she stared out toward the beach. It was a warm, gusty day and there were whitecaps on the ruffled surface of the ocean. As she listened to her mother talk about how when she’d graduated high school her only option had been to go and work at the mill—a story Alice had heard countless times—Alice wondered if she’d ever loved her mother. She must have loved her when she’d been a baby, back when her very survival depended on it, but since then, and definitely since the settlement, Alice felt almost nothing when she thought about Edith. Her mother was an alcoholic who looked twenty years older than she was. She’d been pretty once, but the cigarettes and the alcohol had wrecked her looks, and now she was a boring, rotten waste of space. Just like that dry rot that Jake had found in the wooden stairs that led from the first floor down to the garage. He’d ripped it all out so it didn’t spread, and then hired someone to build new stairs. That was what Edith was. Dry rot that was never going to get better. The only good thing she’d done was marry Jake, and Alice truly didn’t know why he’d stayed with her. She didn’t like to think about it, because if she thought about it too much, she’d become convinced that Jake would disappear from their lives as fast as he had entered into them, and then it would just be her and her mother again, the dry rot spreading from mother to daughter.

  When the bottle was empty—Alice had only had one glass—Edith declared that they should do final preparations for the arrival of the guest. She told Alice to light the candles and fluff up the pillows in the living room while she prepared the stuffing in the kitchen. The champagne had taken the edge off whatever pills she’d taken earlier. Alice thought her mother seemed back to normal—her voice slightly slurry, and her face slack—and she knew that before she started on the stuffing, she’d build herself one of her health drinks in the kitchen.

  Jake arrived home first. He was in his navy blue suit, wearing his tie with the little anchors on it, and he had two bottles of wine in the crook of his arm. “Smells good in here, ladies,” he said loudly.

  Gina arrived not long after, wearing a shimmery blazer over a white T-shirt and tight jeans. She’d done her hair, teasing her bangs, and was wearing eye makeup in addition to the lipstick and rouge she usually wore. Jake looked her up and down when he saw her. “I can’t believe it. You were a little girl yesterday,” he said. Gina smiled, and Alice was pleased that a little bit of lipstick was stuck to one of her big front teeth. She hadn’t even considered that Jake might be attracted to Gina, but of course he would be. He hadn’t seen her for at least a year, and she looked like a movie star now.

  The jealousy went away when Gina grabbed Alice, and said, “Show me around. I can’t believe I’ve never been here.” Then added, in a whisper, “How’s the momster?”

  “Still standing,” Alice said.

  She brought Gina up the stairs and showed off her room, and her own bathroom, then they went out on the deck, and Gina smoked one of Edith’s cigarettes.

  “So I thought you’d like to know, but now it’s official. I’m going to NYU.” Gina had been wavering between NYU and the University of Maine. Alice knew that Gina would pick New York City, and that once she got there she’d look for a modeling agent. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “To where? To New York?”

  “Yeah. We could live together, and you could take classes and apply for a degree program.”

  “I’ll come visit. How about that?”

  Alice had already decided that she was going to take classes at the southern campus of the Maine Community College System. She had told Gina that she was worried about leaving her mom alone, but, in truth, she didn’t want to stop living with Jake.

  “You promise?” Gina stubbed out the skinny cigarette in the ashtray. The filter was imprinted with her lipstick color, a dark plum.

  “I do,” Alice said, but didn’t really mean it, and didn’t really think that Gina would remember the promise once she arrived in New York.

  Jake shouted, “Girls,” from downstairs, and they joined Jake and Edith for appetizers and drinks in the living room. Edith had calmed down, and was her usual slow-motion self, smiling beatifically at both Alice and Gina as though they had done something a lot more impressive than graduate from Kennewick High. Jake kept the conversation going, asking Gina lots of questions about her plans. Alice was slightly jealous again, and actually glad that Gina would be leaving Maine and probably never returning. After appetizers they moved to the dining room table, where every plate was adorned with a Cornish game hen stuffed with wild rice, and a pile of honey-glazed carrots. They looked nice but they’d gone cold. Alice and Gina were allowed to keep drinking wine, and Edith had switched to what looked like vodka on the rocks, her speech getting more incomprehensible by the minute. Edith kept pushing the tiny hen around her plate, occasionally taking a small bite. Gina ate ravenously as she always did, concentrating on her food until all that was left on her plate was a small pile of bones. Alice knew that growing up with four siblings had left her with t
he constant feeling that there would never be enough to go around.

  “You girls should get going to your party. Ed and I will clean up,” Jake said. He’d eaten only about half his food, and Alice thought that was strange. He looked embarrassed, probably because there was a new witness to his wife’s behavior. He didn’t know that Gina had been prepped for the spectacle.

  “It was delicious,” Gina said, refolding her napkin and placing it on her plate.

  “Sorry about . . . My wife sometimes drinks too much.”

  Edith perked up, and blew a raspberry in the direction of her husband. “I’ve had three drinks tonight, a lot less than some people around here. But don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll clean up.” She stood up suddenly, went to steady herself by grabbing hold of the chair, missed it, and sat down hard on the floor. Everyone around the table jumped up, but Jake got to her first, helping her stand and bringing her to the couch in the living room. While he got her settled, Alice and Gina brought dishes into the kitchen. Alice whispered: “I wasn’t exaggerating, was I?”

  “No,” Gina said, smiling, but her eyes looked concerned.

  At the door, Jake said, “Be extra-careful tonight, you two. Look after Alice, okay, Gina?”

  “I’m only staying half an hour, tops,” Alice said, as Gina took her by the shoulders and pushed her out the door.

  “Thank you so much for dinner, Mr. Richter,” Gina said, “and please thank Mrs. Richter for me.”

  “I will,” Jake said, and he swiped at a damp eye. Alice had never seen her stepfather cry. She opened her mouth to tell Gina that she was staying home, but she was already being led down the hall.

  Chapter 7

  Then

  Justin Lashaway lived in a deck house in the woods on the outskirts of Kennewick Village. The long driveway was jammed with cars, kids milling around drinking cans of beer. Justin’s parents were home, but they’d offered up the entire bottom floor, a large rec room, for the party. They’d put out tons of food, and buckets filled with soft drinks, but the majority of the kids at the party—almost the entire graduating class—had spilled out into the surrounding pine forest, where most of the drinking and pot smoking was taking place. After checking out the rec room, Gina eating two cookies and a piece of cake, they headed out to the edge of the woods and found Justin manning a keg. Alice knew that Justin had a crush on her, had had a crush on her for at least two years now. He’d asked her to the senior prom, and she’d let him down easy by telling him that if she had any interest in that sort of thing, he’d be the guy she’d want to go with.