Chapter 10

The phone rings. It’s quickly answered.

I hear the doorbell. Friends are making their way, their vehicles lining the driveway and street, consoling one another, carrying bags with banana bread and ranch dressing. We’ve toted the same into the homes of others.

My turn.

I watch the single mallard restlessly pace the pool decking.

“How do you know omens are omens?”

“What omen?” Kerrick asks.

“One duck.”

Faith comes to look out the window. “Omen for what?”

“That I could have delayed Andy. I should have argued more about the puppets’ collars. Or less. I’m not even sure why he was where he was. It’s nowhere near the groomers.”

Dee is trying to kick the 45 And Barely Alivebanner under the bed. I hear the grommets clicking. I snatch it from under her sandal and hold it up.

“Talk about prophetic. God made a fucking sash.” The plastic still smells of Gertie and Noel’s slobber, where their dog teeth scalloped the edges. “And it was for Andy, not for me.”