someone or not.”
“Who better? When you live alone like I do, you learn to rely on your instincts.” She glances at her dog. “Or your best friend’s instincts.” Amanda whistles and pats her leg. Mel cocks her head at her, and doesn’t move. Only when I stop rubbing her between the ears does she make her way back to her owner.
“That’s something,” Amanda observes. “Mel must really like you.”
“I like her, too.”
“Friendships have been formed over less. Come on,” she gestures to the adjacent sitting room. “If you can’t sleep, I’d love to get to know you better.”
***
Amanda had grown up on the outskirts of Seattle. Her dad was half-native, which explained her dark coloring. She had a single picture of him, carrying her on his shoulders and holding each of her brothers in a playful headlock. It had been taken only a few months before he died.
Amanda said he went rock climbing on a cliff he’d scaled dozens of times before. But something went wrong, and he lost his grip. He’d always been too proud to use a harness.
So, Amanda and her brothers were left to fend for themselves. They all looked so happy in the picture. Her dad was extraordinarily handsome. Her two brothers took after him. But even at age six, you could tell Amanda was going to be the true beauty. Her eyes were bright and shining, her hair long and sleek and braided almost the same way it is today.
I feel a strange sadness creep up inside me as I look at the picture. Unconsciously, I finger the locket around my neck. I will never know what my father looked like. I have no pictures from a happy childhood. In fact, all I remember from when I was the same age as Amanda is in the photograph was how much I hated the place where I lived. That disdain faded as I grew up and started appreciating the orphanage for what it was, but—
Amanda’s voice brings me out of my reverie. “You have to embrace your weakness.”
“What?”
“You can’t be ashamed of who you are,” she continues. “I didn’t know my mother and lost my father early. When people learn that about me, they assume I must be some sort of delicate flower. They underestimate me. But I’ve never hidden my past. I wear it like armor. If other people see it as a weakness, so be it. It only makes me stronger.”
“I’d never underestimate you.”
“Then you’re smarter than most. But you also know what it’s like to grow up without parents. How it makes you hard. Determined.” She smiles like we share some great secret. “Sometimes, even angry. Let me tell you something, Penelope. You surprised me. I intimidate most girls—especially if they meet me the way you did. Some might get bitter or angry—you know, try to act all tough—but that’s just a front. Very few would be able to take my derision in stride like you did.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And you know, this place of yours is impressive. I can’t imagine how much it must cost.”
Amanda grins. “I’ve always had a bit of an entrepreneurial flair.”
“But to afford something like this at your age is incredible.”
Amanda waves the comment away. “Nah. You just need to be smart with your money. Know how to make the right decisions. That sort of thing.”
I look over at the clock on the wall. We’ve been talking for over an hour. Mel had curled up near the couch and fallen asleep a long time ago. I stifle a yawn.
“So!” Amanda announces suddenly. “How did you say that you and Richard met?”
My defenses snap into place immediately. “I didn’t,” I reply.
“Come on now, we’re friends, aren’t we? There’s no need to keep little things like that from each other.”
The eagerness in her voice makes me wary. “What did Rich tell you?”
She grimaces. “I couldn’t get a word out of him.” She shifts her shoulders so the neck of her gown dips forward. “And I know how to be persuasive with men.”
I feel a stab of envy at her full-bodied figure. “Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
Amanda frowns. “You’re really not going to tell me? After everything I told you about my life?”
“It’s not really my place to say anything,” I tell her, choosing my words carefully. “You can ask Rich in the morning.”
“So, it’s a big secret then, is it?” Amanda says with a hint of a sneer. “Fine. I won’t push. Can you at least tell me how