Page 65 of Two Couples

I sighed. I popped a grape into my mouth. As I chewed, I wondered if I should leave the half-full mug of tea and the grapes behind and return to my house. Maybe I was getting the answer to my question. She had a streak of anger and a sense of being disconnected from people who weren’t like her. Was that the profile of someone capable of committing murder? It seemed like it could be.

I finished the rest of my tea and put the mug into my basket. I stood. “I’ll let you enjoy your tea.” I picked up the basket and moved toward the edge of the porch.

“You forgot your grapes. And this.” She held up her mug.

“I’ll get them later.”

“So you don’t really want to be friends. I’m guessing you wanted to pump me for information.” She grinned. “You’re so obvious.”

“I wasn’t⁠—”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid by lying right to my face. I might live in the woods with my mother, but I’m not an idiot.”

“I never thought you were an⁠—”

“Yeah. The thing is, I didn’t expect to see strangers living in my house. I want it back.”

FORTY-SIX

SAMANTHA

I remained with one foot on our neighbors’ porch and the other one step down. I swayed slightly from the imbalance, my mind frozen by what Jordan had said.

She believed our dream vacation home was hers? She wanted it back?! What did she mean.

In all the discussions during the weeks we were presenting our offer and closing the sale, Linda had never said a word about this. When I’d asked her why she was selling a house that had never been occupied, and why she was splitting her property, she responded that I didn’t need to know the history beyond the structural details. I’d pushed her gently on her refusal to answer, but she stood firm—it wasn’t relevant. Nothing about the occupation history came up in the disclosure form she was required to fill out to complete the sale.

“I don’t understand.” I tried to keep my tone gentle. She was finally opening up. And her answer suggested a reason for murder. Maybe she’d seen Todd trespassing on our property and assumed he was one of the new owners? “Why should our house be yours?”

“That’s what was supposed to happen.”

“Did your mother have it built for you? For the two of you to move into?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes had lost focus. Between her blank stare and the fragile shape of her lips, she looked sad. Deeply and irrevocably sad. It wasn’t our fault she didn’t have the house, if she was even telling the truth about believing it belonged to her.

I wasn’t letting this go. The whole situation was strange, and a new concern was pricking at my peace of mind. Was there some undisclosed legal issue that could threaten our ownership? The title had changed hands smoothly. Our loan was locked in with a decent interest rate, and besides that, we’d made a significant down payment, so the mortgage, split between us and our friends, was quite low. Emily’s inheritance had prompted all of this. It was the only reason we’d been able to buy it.

I’d been a real estate agent for five years now. I knew most of the ins and outs and I knew the pitfalls and dangers to watch out for. Off the top of my head, I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Jordan had a claim to our property.

But as they say—You don’t know what you don’t know.

“Why do you think our house is yours?”

“You brought me tea and grapes to grill me for information?”

“No. I⁠—”

“Lying again.”

“I’m not lying. Yes, I thought we would talk, but I’m not trying to…” I wasn’t sure what to say. Maybe I was lying—to myself. I had wanted information from her. Still, my motive was partially pure. I’ve always tried to get to know my neighbors. I’d never been pushed away as firmly and as rudely as I had with Jordan.

Jordan smirked. “At least you have the grace and self-awareness to see that yes, you are lying. You wanted information out of me. I don’t know what, or why, but it’s obvious. It’s almost funny how you’re so eager to pretend you’re just being friendly.”

“I was being friendly. Yes, I’m curious about you. I wondered about your notebook, and I felt sad that you were the one who found the slaughtered rabbits. It made my heart hurt. And that’s absolutely the truth.”

She laughed and popped another grape into her mouth. Now she wanted grapes, when I had one foot down the steps and had gulped my tea so fast it made my stomach hurt. “Why don’t you want to tell me about the house? You seem really upset about it, but you won’t tell me why.”

“It’s too late.” She shoved the bowl of grapes off the table. Fortunately, the bowl was plastic, and it simply bounced and rolled to the edge of the deck, spilling loose grapes as it went.