Something changed in Kelly's posture at the question. She straightened her spine, her eyes flashing with what might have been pride, or defiance, or perhaps both.
"I wanted to go to Northwestern for journalism. They wanted me at the local community college studying business or education—something 'practical.' I got a scholarship toNorthwestern. They refused to contribute a dime. I went anyway, worked my way through, graduated with honors."
She was ticking off points on her fingers now, gaining momentum.
"They wanted me to move back to Bergen after college. I moved to Chicago. They wanted me to take a teaching job when that didn't work out. I taught for exactly one year, hated every minute of it, and quit to start my podcast. They wanted me to date the son of one of Dad's golf buddies. I dated a musician instead. They wanted me to marry young, have babies, and join the country club. I moved to Seattle, Los Angeles, and now New York. I live with roommates, and spend my time investigating unsolved murders. To them, I might as well be a carnival barker, guessing people’s weight."
Ben couldn't help but laugh. "So you're saying you're not exactly the daughter they dreamed of."
"Not even close." Kelly's smile was genuine this time. "And here's the thing, if I'm happy and successful doing something they told me not to do, then they can't brag to their friends that they were right about everything. Mom and Dad can never be wrong. Ever. That’s the law."
"That sounds exhausting," Ben said. "For them and for you."
Even as the words came out of his mouth, Ben could feel the moment of realization like a semi-truck had hit him head-on.
He’d been doing that, too. He’d been so busy trying to look right and perfect all of the time, he hadn’t stopped for a moment to wonder if he actually was, indeed, right.
As for being perfect…he was far from it. But that hadn’t stopped him from trying to appear that way.
No wonder he was exhausted just from living day to day. No one could keep up that sort of facade of perfection forever.
Not even the Batemans. Eventually, it would all fall apart, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
Starting now, he wasn’t going to pretend. He was simply going to try to be himself.
Just as soon as he figured out who he was.
"What about your siblings?" he asked. "Where do they stand in all this?"
"Rob is all in on Mom and Dad’s ideas, as long as they keep bailing him out of any financial scrapes he gets himself into. He thinks I'm being dramatic about our parents and should just 'try harder' to get along with them." Kelly rolled her eyes. "Celia's caught in the middle. She loves me, but she's also desperate for Mom and Dad's approval. She tries to play peacemaker, which usually just means she wants me to give in so everyone will be happy."
"And this trip? The wedding? What are you bracing for?"
"The usual." Kelly's voice was matter-of-fact, but he could see the tension returning to her shoulders. "Thinly veiled criticisms about my career, my appearance, my relationship status. Reminders of how much better my siblings are doing. Attempts to set me up with someone they approve of. That won’t be you, by the way, because they didn’t choose you. They’ll question me about when I'm going to 'grow up' and get a 'real job.'" She paused, then added quietly, "And this time, I suspect they'll go extra hard because I'm investigating Lori's case again. They weren't thrilled about it the first time around. That’s why I’m not going to discuss it with them. I’m just going to do it.”
"Why would they care about that?" Ben asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Image. Appearances. The same reason the whole town wants to pretend it never happened. The Batemans are respectable people. Respectable people don't go digging up old scandals or reminding everyone that a killer might still be walking around Bergen."
The pieces were starting to fit together: Kelly’s determination to solve Lori’s case, her parents’ need to maintain a perfect image, and the town's collective amnesia about a murdered teenager.
What a perfect storm of massive dysfunction.
It was a wonder, really, how Kelly hadn’t buckled under that sort of pressure. How many would have given in, conformed, and accepted the path of least resistance?
“I just want you to know that I’m here for you. You just let me know what I can do, and I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. I just want to survive while I’m here. I want to help Lori. That’s what’s important,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.
"How about we talk about the investigation?" he suggested, watching Kelly's expression shift like clouds parting after a storm.
"We can do one better, actually," Kelly said. "We need to get some food since we won't eat every meal out. The grocery store is next to the local sports bar. My friend Hannah Webber owns it and will probably be there. If it’s happening in this town, Hannah knows about it.”
"She was on the cheerleading squad with Lori and me," Kelly continued. "She was moved up to head cheerleader after..." Her voice faltered briefly. "After Lori died. She's been one of the few people in town who doesn’t think it’s weird that I’m still asking questions."
Ben studied Kelly's profile, noting the determination that had replaced the defeated look she'd worn at her parents' house.
"And you think she might be able to help?"
