Page 33 of Old Money
Hey, can you come in early? 8:30?
I check the time and see it’s already 8:08. Even if I—
Actually, do you have a second now?
The second text appears barely a minute later, instantly followed by a bubble beneath it as Jamie types another.
I start typing a reply, but the sound of distant chatter interrupts me, and I look up and out my window toward Alex Chapman’s house. The family reappears in the doorway, hauling overstuffed beach bags. The little boy bolts toward the silver SUV in the driveway, opening the back door and shouting for the others to hurry—something about wanting to get a good spot.
My phone vibrates. Jamie’s name appears. I punch the accept button, answering in a quiet growl.
“Jamie, I will call you back.”
“Did you get—”
“Five minutes. Thank you, goodbye.”
I hang up and toss my phone on the passenger seat. The family’s car is turning now, heading down the drive. I get out and walk quickly toward the front gate, watching it open as the car approaches.
“Hi there!” I call casually, smoothing the front of my skirt.Buff khaki, see?!
The car stops. The man and woman stare at me through the windshield, concern and irritation plain on their faces. They exchange a few words I can’t hear, then the woman rolls down her window.
“Can we help you?” she asks, eyeing me.
“Yes, I’msosorry to bother you,” I say—warm, but appropriately embarrassed. “I was coming to see an old friend—a classmate.”
She blinks at me.
“I grew up here,” I continue, thinking on my feet. “I’m just home for a visit and thought I’d surprise him. Alexander Chapman?”
“Who?” she asks, angling her head. “Say again?”
“Alex Chapman,” I repeat, taking a step closer. “This was his house.”
Thisishis house,I think.This is where his car is registered. And he checked it out of the midterm parking lot at JFK last Tuesday. Don’t ask me how I know.
The woman shakes her head, brow furrowed.
“I’m afraid I don’t know that name.”
The man mutters beside her and she holds up a hand to quiet him, still looking at me.
“You don’t mean the Cabots, right? They’re across the road, a little further down.”
I shake my head.
“Chapman,” I say one last time, but she’s already turned back to the man. He speaks quietly to her, still gripping the wheel, glancing at me sideways.
“No, Ihearyou,” she says to him, then looks back at me. “I’m sorry, we can’t help you. And we’re running a bit late.”
She rolls up her window and pulls out onto the road, the gate closing behind her with a soft click.
Probably going to the lake, I think idly, walking slowly back to my car. I imagine them meeting up with friends, spreading out blankets on the shady side, apologizing for being late. This odd woman just showed up in the driveway, asking about some “Chapman” person.
I pause beside the driver’s side door, thinking. The unknown family in Alex’s house is strange enough. What’s stranger still is that they’ve never heard of him. Most peopleknowmost people in the village—names, at least. I haven’t lived here in over a decade, and even I know which Cabots the woman meant.
My phone buzzes in the car, though this time it doesn’t startle me. I’m too preoccupied to startle. I turn slowly, still puzzling, and lean in through the window to pick it up, neglecting to actually look at it. I lean back against the car, holding it at my side until it buzzes one more time. I shake myself back to reality,finally checking the screen—it’ll be Jamie again, wondering where the hell I am.
