After we drop off the girls.
She gives me a thumbs-up emoji.
I ease out of the bed slowly and make my way to the door. Just before I open it, Collette whispers, “Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“You won’t leave us? I mean, you won’t go away and never come back, will you?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay,” she says. And she seems to believe me, even if she is starting to doubt many of the other things I say. “Because if you had to leave, I’d want to go with you.”
—
I meet Elodie at a parking garage at a high-end hotel, forty-five minutes from home. There are security cameras in case Bertram decides to follow me again and something were to happen. But it’s busy enough thatnobody will think it’s strange to see two women chatting in a car here.
When Elodie asks, I tell her that Mr. X is doing just fine. He is paranoid about the government monitoring his phone—something about a bitter former client—and he’s gone dark on all of his devices until he can neutralize the threat. But not to worry, the plan is still on, and he’s still looking out for us.
This is enough of an explanation for her, and I can see that she’s about to burst with pride. “I found Mr. Billionaire’s girlfriend.”
“Annie?”
She shakes her head. Her eyes are practically glittering. “This one is named Skylar. Look.” She pulls up the Instagram page on her phone. Skylar Marie. One million followers. Only following one hundred people. Something Collette would call “a flex.”
“I told you I’ve been working on a little side research,” Elodie says, preening. “She’s some sort of influencer-slash-model-whatever. She’s been posting a lot of cryptic stories about having a broken heart and how Mr. Perfect wasn’t all he’s cracked up to be.”
“How did you find her?” I ask. “How do you know it’s about Bertram?”
She gives me that pityingoh, honeysmile. For staying off social media, I’m dubbed the Mennonite of the PTA. “She was on a reality TV show for some streaming platform—one of those who-wants-to-be-a-top-model things. Only lasted a season, but it launched her social media career. I’ve been following her for years. Here, look.”
She pulls up some screenshots of Skylar’s now-deletedInstagram stories. There’s nothing identifying about any of these sad professions of love turned resentful. That is until the last screenshot: A photo of her standing in the arms of a man in a tailored suit, a giant eggplant emoji covering his face. But even without his face, I recognize him, and his apartment’s fireplace behind them. The caption reads:The things I know could destroy you, but I know what comes around goes around, and I don’t have to say a word.
“But wait,” I say. “He was dating Annie before he even came to America, and she hasn’t been missing for very long.”
“There’s definitely overlap.” Elodie is giddy.
“What are you thinking of doing?” I ask.
“Since Mr. X has gone dark on us, it seems we’re on our own in terms of research, at least for now.” Mercifully, she believes my explanation. She prefers to be in the spotlight where she can collect the glory anyway. She’s the perfect match for someone like me who works best in the shadows. “I say we should meet her. She’s in NYC, just a quick train ride away.”
“You mean just pop up at her apartment and ask her for gossip on Bertram?” I ask. “She’s going to turn us away, if she doesn’t call the police.”
Elodie looks sheepish, and I can’t tell whether this is sincere or an act she’s putting on for my benefit. “I sort of…already handled it.”
I rub my temples. “What do you mean, Elodie?”
She launches into a tirade about how Skylar had mentioned in previous posts that her twin nieces are turning seven soon. Elodie direct messaged her and suggested an interior decorator to design a custom theme. She linkedher to my minimalist website, which boasts more than a thousand positive ratings. Most of my reviews are fake, but I do aim to please the clients I work with as a front to my secret life.
I don’t have much of a web presence, but Elodie used this to her benefit also. I’m very word-of-mouth, very exclusive, and of course I don’t advertise. Do the Kardashians use party planners who show up at the top of Google search results? Of course not.
“Imagine if you used your powers for good,” I say.
This makes her grin. “You know,” she says. “You have such a glowing reputation at the school. Everyone talks about the baked goods you bring, and all the extra hours you put in at the school plays and parties. I’m a little jealous.”
Thanks, I think.Making little things sparkle comes from a deep desire to avoid my larger issues.
“I like details,” I say.
