The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,375

over her reading glasses. “I was just about to knock and see if you were moving.”

“We saved you a waffle,” Laurel added, sliding a plate toward Emma.

Laurel and I had always had a tacit agreement not to talk about carbs or calories on Saturday mornings, when our parents would make pancakes or French toast or my mom’s special cream cheese blintzes. Emma smiled and reached for the syrup.

“We thought we’d go to the farmers’ market after breakfast,” Mr. Mercer said. “I’ll throw together a ratatouille tonight if I can find some decent vegetables.”

Emma took a bite of her waffle, considering. She had wanted to go straight to the hospital today to find Becky’s records. But after the nightmare she’d just had, she didn’t think she could face it quite yet. The sun shone in through the window, and a crisp fall breeze ruffled the curtains. It was a beautiful day for a family excursion. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

Half an hour later, the family piled into the SUV. Mr. Mercer turned the radio to a fifties station as he drove along the back roads toward the market. The weekly Tucson farmers’ market was in a stone plaza adjacent to an old, mission-style church. Eucalyptus trees perfumed the air, and a fountain splashed musically at the center. Booths covered in checkered picnic cloths were overflowing with fresh produce—zucchini and summer squash, apples and oranges and pears, a rainbow of bell peppers. A young couple with a double stroller stood outside a carpenter’s booth, examining the hand-painted wooden toys on display. The line for the organic coffee shop across the courtyard snaked almost to the church steps.

Mr. Mercer immediately approached a man in a Grateful Dead T-shirt selling tomatoes on the vine and began haggling over prices. Mrs. Mercer sampled various eco-friendly cosmetics, chatting happily with the saleswoman, who reminded Emma a bit of an older, friendlier version of Celeste with her all-linen outfit and her stacks of rings.

“We shouldn’t have had breakfast,” Laurel said, eyeing a booth of mini crackers and cheeses. Emma examined a jar of fresh olive tapenade, thinking back to her picnic with Ethan. The memory made her smile. “Um, hello? Earth to Sutton?” Laurel said, waving her hand in front of Emma’s face. “What planet are you on?”

“Just thinking about Ethan,” Emma confessed.

“Cute.” Laurel nudged her playfully. “So I was wondering, can I borrow your liquid eyeliner for the party tonight? I want to do a retro cat-eye thing.”

“Of course,” Emma said. “Are you taking anyone to the party?”

“Yeah, Caleb and I are trying again,” Laurel said, turning pink. “I kind of dropped him when Thayer came back. But I told him that was all over.”

“He seems really sweet,” Emma offered. Laurel and Caleb had started dating right before Halloween, and Laurel had been really into him—until Thayer reentered the picture.

“He is.” Laurel smiled. “I’m glad he forgave me.”

“I wish Ethan would get over the whole Thayer thing, too,” Emma said, hoping it wasn’t too weird to talk about this with Laurel. “I really do want to be friends with Thayer, but whenever I talk to him, it feels like I’m sneaking around behind Ethan’s back.”

Laurel adjusted the gold tennis bracelet on her wrist. “That’s because you and Thayer can’t be friends,” she said matter-of-factly. Emma blinked. “Oh, come on,” Laurel pressed. “Just because you first dated him as a prank doesn’t mean we don’t all know that you two were crazy about each other. And Thayer’s still in love with you. Those kinds of feelings … they don’t go away easily. Maybe ever.”

Emma shook her head, sputtering. Sutton had first dated Thayer as a Lying Game prank? That was news. “You’re crazy. Thayer’s not still in love with me.”

“Whatever you say.” Laurel reached for a plastic bag and filled it with a few pomegranates. Emma looked away, out across the plaza, so she wouldn’t have to meet Laurel’s eyes.

And that was when she saw a woman with wild black hair, too-skinny arms, and a threadbare T-shirt sitting on a park bench on the other side of the plaza. Becky. A large family passed in front of Emma, and by the time they moved past, Becky had vanished.

Without thinking, Emma jumped to her feet, threw her purse into Laurel’s arms, and took off into the crowd. She passed a man wearing bright purple suspenders selling homemade ice cream in flavors like salted caramel fudge and ginger pear, then tore through a group of teenagers.

“Hey, watch it!”