Page 5 of Bitter House

“Oh. Hi.” Her gray hair is pulled back in a bun, and she’s wearing a floral blouse and jeans, looking perfectly put together despite the tears in her bright blue eyes. Her chin quivers. “Bridget, right?”

I grip the door tighter as I notice two other women walking up behind her, one dressed in a calf-length dress and the other in yoga pants and a T-shirt. They’re all around Vera’s age, though a bit younger—sixties or seventies if I had to guess. One dusts her silver hair back from her eyes, while the other uses the bouquet of flowers in her hand to shield herself from the misting rain that has set in.

“Do I know you?” I ask the woman at the door, taking half a step back.

“Not really, no. I haven’t seen you since you were very young,” she says, waving a hand as if to shoo away my worry. She points behind her. “I’m Jane. This is Lily.” The dress and a head full of long, silver waves. “And Cate.” Yoga pants with a graying-blonde bob. “We’re the neighbors. We were friends of your grandmother. Of Vera.” Her voice cracks at the sound of my grandmother’s name, and she puts a hand to her chest. “We’re so very sorry for your loss.”

“Oh.” She looks as if she wants me to open the door, but I don’t. I’m not about to be swindled by these women. Vera didn’t have friends aside from Edna, whom she paid to stick around. She was perpetually alone, but I don’t say any of these things. Instead, I give a small, sad smile and say, “Thank you.”

“Well, anyway, I know you probably don’t want three old ladies interrupting you when you’ve just gotten here and are dealing with so much. We just wanted to stop by and see if there’s anything we can do to help you get settled in. Truly, put us to work if we can help with anything you need. Grocery runs, cleaning, sorting through Vera’s things. She was very special to us. It’s the least we can do. Oh, and we brought some flowers and a few meals.”

It’s the first time I notice the rectangular cloth bag sitting at her feet, and she bends and lifts it up. “There are two pans in here, one is lasagna and the other is chicken enchiladas. You can pop one right in the oven to warm it up and save the other in the freezer. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but we wanted to do something.”

The women join her on the porch now, handing me the flowers and the bag containing the meals. It’s heavier than I expected, and when I peer inside, there are two glass Pyrex baking dishes, one stacked on top of the other.

“Do you want us to help get everything inside?” the dress-wearing woman, Lily, asks.

“Um—”

I feel rather than hear or see him as he approaches me from behind. There’s a shift in the air, and the three women’s eyes lift from mine to something behind me.

Jane’s face splits into a smile. “Cole. Well, there you are!”

He slips past me, giving each of the women a familiar hug. “Jane, looking beautiful as ever.” He hugs Cate and Lily next, peppering them with similar compliments.

“You old charmer.” Cate swats his shoulder, though Lily looks unimpressed and only hugs him with one limp arm.

“We just brought over flowers and some meals for you two,” Jane tells him, gesturing toward the items I’m now holding. Her eyes crinkle with concern. “How are you holding up?”

To my surprise, it’s Cole she’s looking at, not me. They also don’t seem to be the least bit shocked to have found us both here. It’s almost like they knew we’d be here, that Vera told them her evil plan.

Cole holds out his hands, prepared to take the food from me, but I turn away, so he shoves his hands into his pockets instead without missing a beat. “We’re taking it day by day,” he says eventually. “It was really nice of you ladies to drop this off. I’ll help Bridget get it all inside now, if you don’t mind. But we’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

“Of course. We’re always around,” Cate says.

“If you need anything, you just let us know.” That’s Jane. “Don’t be strangers.”

“Soak those dishes,” Lily calls.

Cole nods and waves, ushering me back into the house. When the door shuts, I dart to a window, waiting and watching to make sure they’re leaving. When I see the three women depart, I turn back to find a smug-looking Cole staring at me. “Can I help with something?” He holds out his hands.

“No.” I huff. “Who are they? Why do they know you so well?”

“They’re neighbors. Friends of Vera’s.”

“Vera didn’t have any friends.”

He sighs. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? They were just trying to be nice. Do you want me to help you put everything away or not?”

“No. I’ve got it.” I storm past him and into the kitchen, placing one tray of food in the fridge and the other in the freezer.

Why do I once again feel like an outsider in my own home?

CHAPTER THREE

BRIDGET

I hardly slept, even with a belly full of the lasagna Jane dropped off.