Chapter 1

 

How did she find me?

 

Katrina Jaitley opened her car door in the dark parking lot in front of her new apartment. Towering pine trees and streetlights between the car and the two-story residence obscured the person in the plastic patio chair on the second floor but not enough to hide her identity.

 

Mom.

 

Her demeanor and helmet of gray-blonde hair couldn't belong to anyone else. In an instant, Kat forgot everything she'd done that day. A ghost of the smile Kat had worn all night burned in her cheeks but not her lips.

 

The problem with Deborah Jaitley was that Kat couldn't be sure if their encounter would involve tears of joy because they hadn't seen each other in two years or yelling. Normal instances of discipline involved Deborah pronouncing how Kat's actions affected more people than just herself before doling out punishment.

 

This time, Kat hadn’t snuck off with a friend to have a late-night beer: she'd moved to Philadelphia, lived "in sin" with a guy, and returned to Memphis in defeat. Even tonight, two weeks after her return, Kat had been out with a man she'd just met. Not a date, but she was sure her mother would sense the outing and slut-shame her into coming back home with her and her dad and going to church with them on Sunday.

 

The subject of guys always turned out badly even though Deborah said she wanted her daughter to end up with a nice Christian man who made her happy. Whenever Kat brought someone home, regardless of age, nationality, or religion, Deborah's natural response varied on the same theme: "Well. Guess I have to cook dinner," leaving Kat baffled again and again about how to make her mother happy. If Kat could somehow be a nun who could have lots of babies, her mom would probably go for that.

 

Kat shut the old, rusty station wagon door as quietly as she could. 

 

"Hey," she called as she climbed the stairs to her second-floor unit. "How'd you find me?"

 

The apartment complex sprawled across several blocks, wooded streets twisting between identical two-story buildings.

Kat had needed a few days before accurately navigating to her own unit.

 

"Do you know how many Katrina Jaitleys are out there?" she asked. "One. You."

 

"So, White Pages? Google?"

 

Her mom encased her in a thick hug as soon as Kat stepped onto the patio. 

 

"Jeremy called me. Middle of the night, three days ago. Haven't slept since."

 

Something (guilt? fear?) stabbed Kat's chest. Kat released her arms, signaling an end to the embrace, but Deborah

squeezed for another few seconds, moaning.

 

Oh, God, the huggasm.

 

Kat nudged her way to the lock.

 

"Is he here?" Deborah asked, her voice dropping low as though Jeremy were listening. She followed Kat inside. As far as

Deborah knew, someone could have been on the other side of the door, waiting to continue his "illicit relationship" with her daughter. Jeremy was the bane of Deborah's existence.

 

Kat flicked on the kitchen light and dropped her purse on the counter, ignoring the question as she continued to the living room. Unpacked boxes substituted as tables around the used sofa and small TV.

 

"This is how you're living?" Deborah gaped at the space. "You've got nothing!"

 

"What did he tell you?" Kat asked. Jeremy wouldn't have told the truth but probably had a colorful story. Would he have

kept it vague (Kat disappeared while I was at work. Have you heard from her?) or painted a picture (Someone broke into the apartment and beat us both up. If Kat shows up at your doorstep with bruises, that's why)?

 

She still had yellow bruises on her arms, covered now by her hoodie, but she'd be damned if she was going to show them off.

 

"He told me he hasn't seen or heard from you in two weeks. And he waited until three days ago to tell me." Deborah stopped for dramatic effect. "Still think he's husband material?"

 

Kat sat on the sofa and her mom perched on the opposite end with her hands wedged between her thighs.

 

Instead of arguing again that she and Jeremy weren't married and having Mom come back with the same tired argument that living together made them emotionally espoused, Kat said, "I didn't tell anyone I was leaving him." The unplugged phone cord peeked from behind a large box marked DVDs, and she remembered his name on the caller ID earlier in the day. Not only had she not picked up, she unplugged the line and left the apartment. She'd gone straight to another man.

 

"Did you give him my number?" Kat asked.

 

"I would never do that. But I'm assuming that if I couldn't get through on your cell phone, neither can he."

 

Kat nodded. Of course not. Jeremy had been a gentleman around Kat's parents, but her mom bristled at the mention of him. Kat hadn’t thought before accepting a new life in Philadelphia because of the hostile environment her home had become. If Jeremy hadn't offered to take her away, Kat would have taken the next irresponsible offer.

 

Oddly, Kat had returned because her home life had again turned to shit.

 

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," her mother continued. "You couldn't call me?"

 

"I wasn't ready to talk, Mom. I'm sorry."

 

"What's there to talk about? I never wanted you to move in with that asshole—excuse me: young man."

 

"It's okay to say asshole," Kat muttered.

 

"You could have moved in with your dad and me if you were coming back to Memphis."

 

"Maybe I—" she stopped, collecting herself. "I left and that's all you need to know."

 

"Did he do something to you?" Deborah's lips tightened. "You can tell me if something happened. If that sonofabitch," she whispered the cuss word, "did something to hurt you…I will go up there…and kick his ass myself."

 

Kat tried to hide the grimace while imagining her mom swinging her pudgy arms at an unalarmed Jeremy. She glanced at the microwave clock through the cutout to the kitchen. 11:10 p.m. Usually, her parents went to bed at 9:30 p.m. Since Kat had been at Peter's house most of the evening, she guessed her mom had been sitting on the patio for hours.

 

Oh, yeah. Peter. He seemed like a lifetime ago, and they'd been talking not ten minutes earlier.

 

"You can stay with your dad and me." Deborah reached across the middle cushion to squeeze Kat's hand.

 

"I'm fine here. Why don't we plan for lunch on Sunday?"

 

Deborah smiled openmouthed.

 

Kat averted her eyes and pulled her hand away.

 

"I'd like that," Deborah said, and her face flushed bright red, moist around the eyes.

 

"It's getting late, and I've been working a crazy schedule."

 

"Where are you working?"

 

"The pest control call center with Bridget."

 

Deborah arched her eyebrows. "You don't have to accept handouts from your friends. Your dad could have gotten you a job with him at the office." She rolled her eyes almost immediately. "But that would mean you'd actually have to talk to us."

 

"Mom—"

 

"No, I know. I'll leave you alone because you're a mature adult who knows what she's doing. Isn't that why you're back in Memphis? So you can lean on me and your dad because you can't hack it on your own?"

 

Don't yell at her. She wants an argument, and you can't win.

 

Deborah sighed. "All right. Promise you'll come over on Sunday. Maybe I'll invite Gram and Grampa too. They'd like to see you."

 

Kat nodded. A great big you-should-have-listened party.

 

Kat closed and locked the door behind her mom and pulled her shirt off on the way to the bedroom. Upon opening her dresser drawer for pajamas, her eyes landed on the silver, Art Nouveau jewelry box she'd bought that morning at an estate sale: the sale that led to Kat spending the day with a man she was already developing some ill-advised feelings for.