Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [65]
“Hi,” I said. “My name’s Hailey. Is your mom home?”
The girl looked me up and down, and gave me a bashful grin, followed by a nod. “Mom!” she called, not turning her head away from me.
“What’s your name?” This is my niece. Family.
“Annie.” The girl said. She shrugged, as if she wasn’t quite sure.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Annie.” I held out my hand.
Annie stared at it for a moment. She turned her gaze up to me, then back down again. At last, she reached out her arm and clasped my hand. Annie smiled shyly. I smiled back, liking the feel of the girl’s small, warm hand next to my skin.
“Can I help you?” The woman’s voice was sharp.
I dropped Annie’s hand as if I had been caught touching the girl inappropriately. I looked up to see a woman, probably ten years older than me, who resembled Annie except that the woman’s eyes were muddy brown and her wavy hair was cut close around her face. She wore khaki shorts and a black, sleeveless sweater designed to show off her tan, toned arms.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded.
“I’m Hailey. I spoke to you on the phone earlier this week.”
The woman made a bitter sound. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Annie, go to your room.”
Annie shot me another bashful grin before she took off in a run toward the back of the house.
“You called me about Dan, didn’t you?” the woman said.
“Yes.”
“You’re the girl from the bar. I knew he was probably off the wagon.”
“No. I tried to tell you that day. It’s not like that.” Off the wagon? Did Dan have an alcohol problem?
I thought a moment. I hadn’t exactly planned out everything I would say, and it didn’t appear this woman would give me a chance if I didn’t grab her attention soon.
“You know what,” the woman said. “Just get out. I don’t have the—”
“I’m his sister,” I said.
The woman’s mouth opened, like she was about to say something, but then it stayed open and silent as if she had forgotten what words to use.
“Caroline?” she said, her voice somewhat tentative now.
“No. I’m Hailey.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Dan doesn’t have a sister named Hailey.”
I wanted to cry. He hadn’t even mentioned me to her, the woman he had a child with.
“You look like him, though,” the woman continued. “I didn’t notice it at first.”
I nodded, then held out my hand again. “I’m Hailey Sutter.”
“Sutter. Right. Dan’s old name.” The wariness on her face seemed to soften. “I’m Sharon. Maybe you should come in.”
The house was furnished simply but neatly with ruddy Aztec-print sofas and rustic wood tables. A few prints hung on the walls—charcoal drawings of mountain plains.
“Did you get those on Canyon Road?” I asked Sharon, gesturing toward the drawings.
She handed me a glass of water and laughed, almost under her breath. “No. They’re mine.”
“They’re great.” We both sat, me on the love seat, Sharon on the couch.
“It’s just a hobby. Not much time to do it with my sales job.”
Sharon’s voice was level and conversational, and I wondered what had caused the sudden shift.
“So you’re in sales?” I wanted to keep the discussion mundane for now, establish some kind of rapport.
“Pharmaceutical sales. It’s how I met Dan.”
“Oh.” There was Dan’s name, sitting between us now. “And you’re obviously not together any longer?”
A rueful smirk took over Sharon’s face. “Divorced about five years now.”
“Did he always use the name Singer? I mean, as long as you’d known him?”
Sharon nodded, and I noticed how quiet the house was. Somewhere in the back, Annie was playing, but there were no sounds to confirm this, and although Santa Fe was a city, I couldn’t hear any passing cars or blaring horns. No shouts