Free Hush Hush by Laura Lippman

to drive to school and then drive home after cross-country practice. In the end, it was too much of a hassle for Alanna to be grounded.
    They were about a mile from home when he finally said: “But why, Alanna? Is this because—because of what we talked about the other night?”
    Given how little time they had left in the car, he couldn’t possibly want the truth. The truth would require miles.
    “Oh, I just wanted to get it right for the college essays.”
    “You have until next fall to worry about your essays. We haven’t even started visiting campuses yet. And I think you can find better topics.”
    “There was a girl—do you know this?—a girl who killed her mother and she got into Harvard. Of course, Harvard didn’t know. And they rescinded the acceptance because she was lying. So it’s lying that gets you in trouble.”
    He didn’t get it. Or, if he did, was smooth enough to roll past it.
    “That was a long time ago, before you were born. How do you know that story?”
    “They told us at one of the sessions on how to apply. I think it was supposed to be an object lesson in not lying. But, hey, she came pretty close to committing a perfect crime at age fourteen. If that doesn’t qualify you for Harvard, what does?”
    “Don’t be morbid, Alanna.” He was turning in the driveway; their time alone together was almost over. They were seldom alone, Alanna and her father, and this made twice in one week. Whee!
    “What did you think you were going to see, anyway?”
    The tree. The parking lot. The pier. Her past, the destiny averted . But what she really wanted to see what was what in her mother’s head that day.
    And if it was coming for her.
    “Maybe I really did go to Cherry Hill to buy drugs and the boathouse is the cover story. Did you ever think of that?”
    She couldn’t quite see her father’s face in the dark car. But she was pretty sure that his expression was almost one of relief. Drugs? He could deal with drugs. Her mother’s legacy was what made him nervous. Even her father expected her to lose it one day.
    “I know you don’t take drugs, Alanna.”
    “I think I want to see her, Dad.”
    “But yesterday—”
    “All our troubles seemed so far away.”
    “What?”
    “Forget it, Dad.”
    “If you really want to see her, it’s up to you. I said as much. I took you into my confidence because you need to know the whole story. I just wanted you to be prepared, Alanna. For what it could be and what it will never be. You’re my only concern. We’ll talk, okay?”
    But that was the one thing Alanna and her father never did. Oh, they used words, made sentences. Put them together like little raftsto sail across the surface of things, just like the boats her mother had taught Alanna and Ruby to sail down the gutters. But they never really talked. Because he knew and she knew it was Alanna’s fault that her mother had gone crazy and killed Isadora.

6:00 P.M.
    Tess arrived home to a tender scene: Crow and Carla Scout were entwined on the chaise longue in the sitting room, still napping. Father and daughter looked so much alike—dark hair, light eyes, fair skin. They were particularly beautiful asleep. Did Tess look pretty sleeping? Crow said she talked in her sleep. Argued, instructing various people to “cut it out” and “don’t tell me that.”
    “Do I at least win the arguments?” Tess had asked. If she was going to fight in her sleep, she wanted to win.
    But Crow and Carla Scout were serene in sleep, his face almost as lineless and smooth as the baby’s, as Tess still thought of their daughter. The three dogs, also napping, had arranged themselves in a pile on the rug. They were twitchier sleepers. Esskay and Dempsey, both greyhounds, chased prey, hind legs rabbiting, while Miata, the world’s sweetest Doberman, sniffed the air. If a stranger walked in, Miata would be the dog on her feet instantly.
    It was, all in all, a lovely tableau, one that made Tess want to go in the