Free Spirit Level by Sarah N. Harvey Page A

leads me through french doors onto a multi-level wooden deck that overlooks a lush back garden. A large brick-red umbrella shades a round wooden table that has a tray on it with glasses and a pitcher of what looks like pink lemonade. “Want some?” Lucy asks.
    I nod and say, “That’s some garden.”
    “Nori’s pride and joy,” Lucy says as she hands me a glass of lemonade. “It’s been in Seattle Magazine . Even won some award—best of Seattle’s small gardens or something. You’d think she’d be sick of gardening after working in other people’s gardens all the time, but she says this is her sanctuary. She even made a special place for Angela to meditate in. Do you want to see it? It’s really cool. Very Japanese.”
    She starts to get up, and I put a hand on her arm. “What did you want to talk about?”
    She sits down and stares into her glass of lemonade. “I did something stupid,” she says. “Really stupid.”
    I don’t say anything—Mom always says that silence is actually the best way to get someone to talk. As we sit, I notice that Lucy is crying. I can’t actually see her face—the brim of the fedora hides it—but I can see drops falling on the wooden table.
    “What’s wrong, Lucy?” I ask. “It can’t be that bad.”
    She looks up at me, her face streaked with tears, and takes off her hat. Her beautiful curtain of silky black hair is gone. What’s left is a spiky pixie cut, just like Meredith’s. I say, “Holy shit!” and she starts to wail.
    “Angela and Nori are so mad at me. They’re saying that Meredith is a bad influence. They don’t want me hanging out with her—or you—until they’ve met both of you. I said you had nothing to do with it, but they’re getting all overprotective, and I’m afraid you guys won’t want to meet them and—”
    Before she can get herself any more worked up, I pull my chair over to hers and put my arms around her. It’s like hugging a child, she’s so small, and she looks more like a little kid than ever—a sad, confused little kid. We are sitting like this when the french doors open and a small wiry woman in jeans and a dirty white T-shirt steps onto the deck. Behind her is a tall tanned woman in a sky-blue sleeveless dress. Her long hair hangs in a braid down her back. Neither woman is smiling—they actually look pretty pissed—but the tall one’s eyes widen when she sees me, and she gasps. I’ve forgotten how much I look like her son, Adam. It must be a shock to see someone who could be his twin.
    I stand up and say, “Hi, I’m Harriet. I love your house. Craftsman, right? My mom loves them. Yours is gorgeous. And the garden is amazing.”
    As I babble, I reach out and shake their hands. First Angela’s dry, cool one, then Nori’s dirty one. Lucy says, “We’re having lemonade. You guys want some?”
    Nori and Angela look at each other, and I can practically see the thoughts arc between them. Best of a bad situation. Get to know this girl. Try not to be hostile. We don’t want to come off like assholes .
    “Sure, honey,” Angela says. “That would be lovely.” I bet she’s the softie and Nori is the enforcer. Nori shrugs, and the two moms sit down while Lucy runs into the kitchen for more glasses. I notice she’s put her fedora back on.
    “So, Harriet, do you live nearby?” Nori asks.
    “Not really. I was on the bus, going home from the animal shelter, and Lucy texted. I just invited myself over. Hope that’s okay.”
    Angela nods. “We like Lucy to have friends over. But I’m sure you can understand that we’re a bit”—she pauses—“a bit perplexed by recent events.”
    Nori snorts. “Perplexed doesn’t even begin to cover it! Have you seen her hair? She’s never had a haircut in her life. And now it’s all gone. And all because your sister”—she almost spits out the word—“made her cut it.”
    “She didn’t make me cut it.” Lucy has returned with the glasses, which she fills for Angela and