“It’s definitely true,” Archer cut in. “Leah’s mom was the worst.”
“Not that, either! I meant that Leah won’t be a bad mom just because she had one. It doesn’t . . .” Her gaze went from Archer to Leah and back to her cousin. “It doesn’t always follow. There’s not an Insighter in the world who won’t tell you that. We see a lot,” she said, turning to Archer. “But it’s not all bad. That’s one of the myths. We see plenty of the good in people’s pasts.”
A weak snort from the bed. “Stop generalizing. And ‘bad mom’ doesn’t do it justice.”
“Okay, but it’s not like you cornered the market in crap parents.” Although it sure sounded like Leah’s B-lister mama had been a worse-than-usual momager . . . at least, according to the tell-all book by the actress who only played her daughter.* “I mean—jeez. You know about my dad. And what we’ve got to try to do for my uncle. It’s the whole reason you came to town. And my mom freaked you out so hard you hit the floor.”
Angela’s Insighting ability was nothing compared to Leah’s. If Angela’s ability could be likened to being the best actor in drama club, Leah’s made her Sir Anthony Hopkins (who, rumor had it, had been the Sun King in an earlier life); but it was strong enough that Angela didn’t go out of her way to touch strangers. She’d been amazed when Leah had stuck out her hand, and even more amazed when her mother had shaken it. “You hit the floor.”
Leah was already shaking her head. “That was—that was more morning sickness than anything else.”
“Sure it was.” I’ll bet you don’t go out of your way to touch strangers. Quite the opposite, I think. So why’d you want to touch my mom? I think I know.
The color was coming back into Leah’s face and for the first time, Angela knew how to talk to her. She’s really invested in the bad-mom thing. Okay. She feels better if she fights back a little. Okay. “It can’t have been that bad.”
“Mine was the stage mom from Hades, and that was on her good days.”
“Mine’s a ghost,” Angela said.
“Mine exploited me for money.”
“Mine is so out of it people think she’s on tranquilizers. PS: She’s not on tranquilizers.”
“Mine slept with the judge assigned to my emancipation trial, which is why I remained un-emancipated for so long.”
“Mine slept through all my birthdays, both my graduations, and Archer’s crime prevention award from the city of Minneapolis.”
“Mine— But you’ve never lived in Minneapolis.”
Archer shrugged. “Long story.”
Leah stared at the father of her child, and Angela had the impression she was holding back giggles. “Okay, we’re definitely discussing that later—”
“Oh, God.” He groaned.
“But getting back to the more interesting and depressing conversation, my mother slipped Valium in my tea, then brought me to a plastic surgeon’s office. The only reason I didn’t get non-con breast implants at age thirteen was because I woke up too soon. And also, the surgeon wasn’t a sociopath.”
“Mine left all of us alone for two days because she forgot she had children. You know, the way some people forget their keys.”
“I swore off tea forever. And I loved tea! In fact, I refused to eat or drink anything she touched until I was emancipated. I spent years terrified I’d be roofied by my own mother.”
“Mine forgot she had children.”
“Mine’s dead.”
“Mine might as well be.”
“This,” Archer announced, “is a terrible game. And I think I’m calling a halt to it. Yeah, I’m definitely calling a halt. If you two will let me. And how the hell do you even know who wins?”
Leah grinned and sat up. “We both did. Or we both lost. Either way: I have to say I’m feeling better.”
“Good enough to go back out and face the throng?”
“Christ, no,” Leah said, flopping back down.
FIVE
He’s dead.
(thud)
Murdered.
(thud-thud)
Your father’s dead.
(thud-thud)
Your uncle murdered your—
? ? ?
ANGELA OPENED HER eyes. The words that changed everything, the words that decimated her childhood. But the— Wait.
Where am I again?
Then she remembered: This was no ordinary car-ride snooze. She’d actually dozed off in Archer’s car while he drove her and Leah to a state prison to visit her incarcerated uncle and put phase two of her long-game plan into action. In a downpour, no less, and his wipers needed changing. Thud-thud.
How the hell did I sleep?
“She’s back!” Archer cried, catching her gaze in the rearview as she sat up, rubbed her lower back, smacked her lips. Bleh, nap-breath. She’d throttle someone for a Tic Tac. “Let me guess: You stayed up all night freaking out about our visit, and when you finally calmed down, you conked.”
“No,” she denied automatically. The “Shut up!” that followed was also automatic. She could feel her face get warm as she flushed. Jesus, how old are you? “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“Ah, that takes me back,” Archer said, adjusting the mirror so he could keep torturing her with sporadic eye contact. “Back to hell, in fact, which in this case means Iowa.”
“We only made the one trip to Iowa.”
“Yes, because the state trooper who put out the fire politely asked us to never, ever return.”
“He was really nice,” she said, remembering. “He could have arrested some of us. Or all of us.” It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to get her Insighting license—to work with the police.
One of the reasons.
“Angela has a soft spot for cops,” Archer told Leah, which was embarrassing beyond belief.
“I do not! Well, good ones I do,” she admitted. “They make things better. And easier.”
“The good ones usually do,” Leah agreed. “In our work, we— No?”
“I wasn’t talking about work. This isn’t— I mean, I didn’t just suddenly become interested in my father’s murder case again. I’ve never stopped working it.”
“Since the day after my dad took a plea bargain for killing your dad.” He paused a beat, and then he and Angela added, “Allegedly!” in unison.
“Ha! Jinx,” her cousin chortled.
“Ugh, you’re endlessly annoying.”
At that, Leah burst into giggles, and Angela was able to see her as a real person instead of the glorified Insighter ideal for the first time. It was as sobering (heroes are just ordinary people having a series of bad days)
as it was exhilarating.
(oh, my God she’s so cute when she laughs!)
“Do you still dream about it? The night you found out your dad was dead?”
“Actually I’ve been thinking about Mom’s one-eighty on the whole accident-versus-surprise thing.” Hopefully Archer wouldn’t notice she hadn’t answered the question.
“‘Accident-versus-surprise’?” Leah asked.
“Yeah.” Angela leaned forward so her head was between both of their head rests. “The first time I did the math, I saw I was older than my parents’ marriage and asked about it. Turns out they had to get married; Mom got pregnant and Dad wanted to do the right thing. My dad always said I was a surprise. When I asked the difference, he said: With an accident, if you could do it differently, you’d go back in time and undo it. But with a surprise, you’d never go back and undo it.”
“And what did your mother say?”
“Oh, the reverse.” Angela laughed, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “One the reasons I was so surprised by the depth of her grief was because mostly I remember them fighting all the time. It wasn’t some great love match. So when I found out they had had to get married, it made sense. And, Archer, you’re not saying anything, so I’m betting you knew what was going on.”
Archer didn’t reply. Just kept driving. Leah’s gaze met Angela’s in the rearview mirror. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I wasn’t an accident. Mom got pregnant on purpose. She’d wanted to get married for ages but Dad had, y’know, zero interest. Here’s the irony—Dad wanted Dennis’s life. And Dennis wanted Dad’s.”
“So you were . . .” Leah paused.
Archer filled in the blanks: “Bait in a trap. Personally, I liked Uncle Donald’s version of the story.”