Charles peered at the silver plate with interest. “Are they Polish?”
“Yes, but they’renotfor either of you.” Her voice was unusually stern. “Even if she offers you one, don’t take it. I added an ingredient that isn’t for kids. If you get sick, I’ll get in trouble with your parents, so promise me you won’t have a single bite. If you promise, I’ll bake a batch just for you. Do we have deal?”
Jill and Charles exchanged confused looks but readily agreed.
Mrs. Bernstein glided over, her arms held out to Mrs. Pulaski. “Aren’t you gorgeous! What’s the occasion?”
“Well, after Natalie told me she saw Don in a car with a strange brunette, I thought I’d introduce myself to the woman who’s fucking my husband.”
Mrs. Bernstein put a hand to her heart. “Beth! Not in front of the kids!”
Mrs. Pulaski glanced at Jill and Charles before moving closer to Mrs. Bernstein.
“Oh, of course.You’dnever swear in front of your kid. Not Elaine Bernstein, the perfect mom.” Her voice rose in anger. “But I don’t have kids, remember? I mightneverhave them! I might always be poor little childless Beth. The only woman in the room who can’t talk about swim team or PTA meetings or sleepovers. Who doesn’t have a labor story or a breastfeeding story or a first-day-of-kindergarten story. All Beth has is her marriage. And now that’s turned to shit! Because ofthat woman!”
Mrs. Bernstein reached out to stop Mrs. Pulaski. “Please don’t do this. Charles’s party is in two weeks. She could revoke her permission. She could—”
“Jesus Christ, Elaine! All you care about is this fucking party. No matter how many checks you write, therearesome things you can’t buy. Like happiness or love or friends for your son!”
Mrs. Bernstein looked like she’d been slapped, but Mrs. Pulaski didn’t seem to care. She clenched her jaw, stormed up to Mrs. Smith’s gate, and slipped through the opening. Then she marched up to the front door and rang the bell.
Jill held her breath. Was she about to see Mrs. Smith for the first time? Would she answer the door? And if she did, what would happen? Mrs. Pulaski was an unpinned grenade.What was she going to do? Shout at Mrs. Smith? Throw the cookies at her?
The tension was almost unbearable, but Jill couldn’t look away. She knelt in the dirt, unmoving, her gaze fixed on the front porch.
When nothing happened, Mrs. Pulaski knocked on the door. Again, she waited. She knocked again, harder this time.
And just when Jill thought Mrs. Pulaski was ready to give up, the door cracked open.
From her vantage point, Jill could see only Mrs. Pulaski. She heard the murmur of women’s voices but couldn’t make out any of the words. Mrs. Pulaski didn’t raise her voice. If anything, she sounded friendly.
And then, an arm snaked out through the opening. It seemed very long and pale to Jill. A hand closed around the cookie plate and instantly withdrew back into the gloom. The door closed with an audible thud. Mrs. Pulaski marched back to her car. Without looking at Jill or Charles, she gunned the engine and drove away.
As soon as the convertible disappeared around the bend, Mrs. Bernstein hurried into her house.
Jill picked up an impatiens and eased it out of the pot. Keeping her eyes on the soil, she whispered, “Did you see anything?”
Charles took the plant from her and put it in the ground. “No.”
They didn’t speak again until the flower beds were done. The work hadn’t taken very long, which left Jill with a decision to make.
She wanted to earn more money, but she didn’t want to be in the backyard alone. Everyone knew Charles was a wimp, and Jill wasn’t looking to him for protection, but if he stayed,there’d be another pair of eyes to watch Mrs. Smith’s house and another pair of ears to listen for suspicious sounds.
“Want to see the back garden?” she asked Charles. “That’s where the face is.”
Too curious to turn her down, Charles grabbed the box of black trash bags and followed Jill through the garden door. When he saw the stone face, he paled.
“She’s gotta be a monster.”
Worried that he’d bolt, Jill put a hand on his back. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat. “We don’t have to stay long, but we might find another clue. You know, something to help us figure outexactlywhat she is. All we have to do is weed between the paths. Do you have gloves?”
Charles produced a pair from his back pocket. Focusing on the ground seemed to steady him. “How can you tell the difference between the weeds and the plants?”
“Just pull out all the grass. And the dandelions. I’ll do the rest.”
Jill was soon lost in a rhythm of grabbing weeds by the base, yanking them from the dirt, and tossing their bodies into the trash bag. She sat cross-legged on the bricks and tackled the weeds on the left while Charles focused on the bed to the right. They worked in silence until Jill pulled out a dandelion and felt something heavy dangling from its roots.
“Charles! Look at this.”
