Lie in Plain Sight by Maggie Barbieri

when the girls were small.
    Donna lingered by the cookies. “I heard that you were the one who said she should go home alone. That you wouldn’t go get her.”
    Maeve froze. Now I really have to kill someone, Maeve thought. The list was long, but she thought she might move Judy Wilkerson to the top of it, and if Donna didn’t show a little sympathy toward Maeve—believe what she had to say about the situation—babies or not, she was on the list, too. “That’s not true, Donna. Taylor’s almost eighteen and Judy though it was okay for her to go home on her own.”
    Donna focused on a giant red velvet cake, pointing at it with one lacquered nail. “How much?”
    â€œThirty-eight dollars,” Maeve said. “Listen, I’d appreciate it if you could dispel the rumor that I said I was too busy to go over there.” She laughed, hoping to offset her tense tone with some levity. “Everyone who shops here knows that I close the store at the drop of a hat.”
    Donna put her hands up. “I don’t want to get involved. I don’t know what happened.”
    â€œBut you were here, Donna,” Maeve said. “You heard the whole conversation. Remember? My sister was here that day?”
    â€œCan I get my cupcakes?” Donna said.
    Maeve closed the box and sealed it with a Comfort Zone sticker. She pushed the box across the counter along with the three quiches and rang up the order. “Do you need help getting these to the car?” Maeve asked.
    â€œI’ve only got two hands!” Donna said, giving a mirthless chuckle and moving herself from low on Maeve’s hit list to the number one spot. Sure, the kids would be motherless, but did Donna really bring any joy to anyone in this world? Maeve mulled that over as she walked into the back of the store to ask Heather to cover for her while she helped Mrs. Fitzpatrick to her car. She had pressed Heather into service today, giving Jo a “much-needed” day off, according to her returning employee, hoping that she and her daughter could have a little fun at work, catch up on everything in each other’s lives. Instead, she got stony silence and one-word answers.
    The more things change, she thought.
    Donna’s tiny sports car, short on cargo room, was packed to the gills, and Maeve had a hard time finding a place for the extra boxes in the order. Donna looked at her. “You’ll have to deliver the rest of it.” She saw Maeve eyeing the low-slung car. “My husband has the minivan,” she said. “You have my address, right?”
    Maeve did, but it was in the store, along with all of the other orders she needed to complete, and the to-do list that seemed to get longer every time she stepped out of the kitchen. “Remind me?”
    â€œFourteen Mockingbird Lane. Will you remember that?” Donna asked, putting on a pair of aviator-framed sunglasses.
    â€œMockingbird Lane? Like the street where the Munsters lived?” Maeve asked, thinking back to one of her favorite television shows from childhood.
    â€œI don’t know the Munsters, but if they lived on Mockingbird Lane, then yes, that’s the street,” Donna said.
    Maeve didn’t have the energy to get into it with Donna, to let her know that if the Munsters lived on her street, she’d know it. There would be no missing a guy with bolts in his neck and a wife who was a vampire. “Okay. See you in a few,” Maeve said, then muttered, “You’re welcome,” under her breath as she watched Donna drive away in her impractical car.
    She went through the store, her arms laden with boxes, and let Heather know that she’d be back as soon as she could.
    She pulled into Donna’s circular drive about fifteen minutes after having begun her trek. This was why she didn’t know about the stone yard, the houses here, the people who lived in the gigantic homes: It was way out of the