Open House: A Novel

by Katie Sise

  “Dr. McCullough?” asked the barista behind the counter.

  Haley stepped forward in line and thanked him. She paid for her coffee and muffin, her mind on Priya and Brad. Haley had been right, of course, about a purposefully nonfatal stab wound at the open house on Carrington Road five years ago. Rappaport suggested that Noah might have been the one to inflict the stab wound, complicit in Josie’s plan to frame Brad, but Josie took credit for all of it: the scheming, the lying, and the stabbing. She said she would do anything to protect Noah, and Haley believed her. After all, Josie had carried the guilt of Emma’s death all these years, believing it was Noah who protected her from the repercussions of what she’d done that night, and Noah who kept her safe: her new ally in the world. But it wasn’t long before the police realized Josie would have needed help, too, and forensics concluded there was no way a petite woman like Josie could have dragged the deadweight of a 130-pound body across the uneven terrain and into the water. As the only people close to Josie at the party that night, Chris and Noah quickly became the obvious suspected accessories to Emma’s wrongful death. The police pressed hard on Chris, and Haley imagined that Noah had probably thought he was in the clear. But what Noah likely underestimated was Josie’s loyalty to her brother. As soon as Chris was implicated, Josie came clean and told the police that Chris had nothing to do with Emma’s death, and that Noah had dragged Emma’s body into the river. In her statement, Josie said that she pushed Emma to her death by accident, and that Noah had tried to help her cover up the murder. “She was alive at first,” Josie told the cops, “but by the time I got Noah to come help her, it was too late.”

  Rappaport had let Haley watch the video of Josie’s statement, so she’d been able to see firsthand the way color had drained from Josie’s face when Rappaport asked her, “How sure are you that Emma was dead when you returned with Noah? Did you check her pulse?” Whether it was because she was only twenty-one, or because she trusted Noah, it seemed Josie had never questioned him when he told her Emma was dead. Josie had stammered on the video, trying to recover. “Noah would never kill Emma,” she finally blurted.

  “Even though she was pregnant with his baby?” Rappaport had asked, and then went on. “I’m not saying Noah would have shown up in your dorm room the next day and killed a perfectly healthy Emma. But in the state Emma was already in down in the gorge, wouldn’t it have been easier to drag her body into the river, alive or not, and escape to the good life in Australia, the life he thought he deserved?”

  Haley had watched that clip over and over again. Josie’s mouth twitching, her eyes going wide as saucers as she realized the possibility of what might have happened that night. “It couldn’t be,” she’d murmured, but there was doubt all over her face, and then she started sobbing. Finally she managed to croak, “Are you saying there’s a chance I didn’t do this?”

  The police department brought a case against both of them, and they fell apart in court, no longer trying to defend each other, their weaknesses laid bare.

  After the weekend of the open house, Haley’s dreams became filled with Josie and Noah in the gorge hurting Emma. But when both of them were sentenced, the dreams stopped altogether. Haley still saw Emma in her mind’s eye, of course, but it was the Emma of happier times—her sister, her childhood best friend, her everything.

  The barista passed Haley a receipt. “Enjoy,” he said, pushing the coffee and muffin across the counter. Haley turned around numbly, taking a sharp breath to redirect her thinking.

  It was 12:03. Where were Dean and Grace?

  Haley clutched her hot coffee and made her way to the rectangular table by the window. She considered the highchairs stacked against the wall, but Grace wasn’t quite sturdy enough to sit upright inside one. Soon. Haley sat and daydreamed about the future when she’d sit inside Mosaic with Dean and Grace, when Grace would be two, and then three, then four, chattering in the quirky way little kids talked.

  Haley was still smiling thinking about it when Dean arrived, Grace snug in his arms. Haley stood from her seat, already moving toward them when she realized Sarah had come, too. Haley tried to keep her smile just as big and not let on that she was just a little disappointed to see Sarah. It wasn’t because she disliked Dean’s wife; it was just that when Sarah was here, Grace usually just wanted to be held by her mother, of course.

  “Hi,” Haley said, unable to peel her eyes from Grace. “How are you guys? Grace! You’re getting so big!”

  Dean glanced at Grace and beamed. “Hi, Haley,” Sarah said, unwinding a cashmere scarf. Sarah had grown up in the Midwest, and she was one of those women who looked beautiful in the winter, with pale skin and shiny red locks that looked lovely even when she tore off her knit hat. She was kind and gracious, and Haley had liked her from the moment Dean introduced them a few years ago.

  “How are you is the better question,” Sarah asked. “We saw the article about the case you worked on in Bronxville. Unbelievable, Haley.”

  Haley felt her cheeks get hot. She loved working as a forensic pathologist, but she didn’t always love talking about it. Even when she did her job right, there was still so much that had been lost that it was hard to celebrate anything. But she knew exactly what she was giving the victims’ families by solving cases, and that was enough, the thing that kept her going, the thing that filled her with purpose.

  “You don’t need to tell us about it,” Dean said quickly, still always very aware of how she felt. “We just want you to know we’re proud of you,” he said. Haley considered his deep brown eyes, wishing, as she sometimes did, things hadn’t ended the way they had, but also knowing there had been no other way, not when he’d lied about Emma.

  “Thank you,” Haley said, and she meant it. When Grace squealed, Haley felt grateful for the distraction. “Hi, Grace,” she cooed. She had never known she had a voice that cooed until she met Grace that first week Dean and Sarah brought her home from the hospital.

  Sarah squeezed Dean’s arm. “Let’s sit,” she said, “I’m starving. Let me run up and get some food; be right back?”

  Haley smiled and so did Sarah, and then Sarah turned and went to the counter. When Dean said, “Do you want to hold her?” Haley reached out her arms.

  “Can I hold you, sweetheart?” she asked Grace. Grace looked up at Haley with her blinking brown eyes, seeming happy to be transferred into her arms. “She’s perfect,” Haley breathed.

  “She is,” Dean said. He took off his coat and set it on the back of his chair. “How are you?” he asked, his eyes holding hers.

  “I’m good,” Haley said, and when he raised his eyebrows, she laughed. “Seriously, Dean,” she said. “I’m really good.”

  “You like the new apartment?” Dean asked. He’d offered to go down to New York City to help her move in, but Haley hadn’t wanted to take him away from his family on the weekend when he worked such long hours during the week.

  “I do,” Haley said. “It’s tiny, but I love it down there. It’s so quiet.” She’d lived in New York City since graduating from medical school, and the West Village was the most peaceful neighborhood she’d found yet. She kissed Grace’s forehead, debating on whether she should tell Dean what she was about to. “I’m seeing someone,” she finally said.

  “You are?” Dean asked, eyebrows up again.

  “I am,” Haley said, smiling. “Henry. He’s nice. I think you’ll like him.”

  “Haley and Henry,” Dean said. “That’s cute.”

  Haley laughed. “Oh stop,” she said. But she felt a buzz when she thought of her sweet new boyfriend, his nerdy-but-cute glasses, and dark blue eyes.

  “Has he met your parents yet?” Dean asked.

  Haley shook her head. “Not yet,” she said, but she had a feeling it would happen soon. Her parents were doing better with time. Both of them had broken all over again when they learned the truth of what happened to Emma, but each year they seemed stronger than the one before. Haley stayed with them on the one or two
weekends per month when she returned to Waverly for a visit. The fresh air was good after a week spent at her lab in the city.

  Sarah returned to the table with two teas, soup, and a packet of organic baby yogurt, and in that moment Haley decided she wouldn’t say anything about the muffin she bought for Grace. She gave Grace’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Should I try to feed her?” Haley asked carefully, and Sarah smiled, passing the yogurt and a spoon across the table. “Priya’s paintings look gorgeous,” Sarah said, lowering herself into her seat. “We’re going to the exhibit tonight if the sitter doesn’t cancel.”

  All four of them sat that way, chatting about ordinary things like sitters and jobs, Grace never once wanting to leave the comfort of Haley’s arms. When it was time to leave for her parents’ house, Haley kissed Grace’s cheek and said goodbye to Sarah and Dean. As she crossed the coffee shop, she thought of Emma, her first and truest love, imagining what it would be like if she were still here. She turned back only once, waving to her friends before opening the door and making her way into the bright and safe future that awaited her.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Carmen Johnson and Dan Mandel, the editor and agent of every writer’s dreams. Carmen, thank you for bringing each book to the next level, for setting high standards, and for believing I can meet them. Your guidance, instincts, and expertise have made our books together something I am proud of, and your friendship and our shared language of what makes characters tick have made writing these books so enjoyable. Dan, thank you for such tremendous support and encouragement over the past decade of agenting my books, for your friendship, and for the keen career guidance that is the entire reason I’m a published writer.

  Thank you to everyone at Amazon Publishing and Little A. Your dedication to these books puts them in the hands of so many readers, connecting stories to real live people, and I couldn’t be happier to be one of your authors. Thank you especially to Jeff Belle, Lucy Silag, Emma Reh, Merideth Mulroney, and thank you to Kimberly Glyder for another beautiful cover.

  Thank you so very much to all the readers who bought this book and spent time in its pages, and to the ones who write me to tell me what they thought of characters and plotlines. Thank you to all the bloggers and Instagrammers who spread the word about We Were Mothers, and thank you in advance to the ones who will spend their time reviewing Open House. Thank you to the editors and agents who’ve taught me so much over the past decade, Alessandra Balzer, Brenda Bowen, Lanie Davis, Kelsey Murphy, Sara Sargent, and Jennifer Kasius. Thank you to all the teachers who inspired me to write in high school, especially Mrs. Orr, Mrs. Harrison, Mr. Bedell, Dr. Danaher, Mrs. Betro, and Mrs. Kuthy. And to my teachers at the University of Notre Dame, especially Mark Pilkinton and Shannon Doyne, and to my theater professor, Siiri Scott, who helped me navigate the years in college that weren’t always easy.

  Thank you to my friends and family who read first drafts and give such helpful feedback and cheerleading, especially my sister, Meghan Sise; my brother-in-law, Roby Bhattacharyya; my sister-in-law, Ali Watts; my dad, Jack Sise; my aunt Joan Miller; my uncle Bill Sise; my aunt Angela Sise; and my friends Chrissie Irwin, Sarah Mottl, Sarah Webb, Nina Levine, Ally Reuben, Molly Hirschel, Debbie Stanley, Antonia Davis, Wendy Levey, Alex White, Michelle Kenny, Pete Kenny, Davey Tejtel, Brinn Daniels, Janine O’Dowd, and Caroline Rodetis. Thank you, thank you to Stacey Armand, who offered such terrific feedback, and is the entire reason the epilogue exists as such.

  To my partner-in-crime and carpooling, Jesse Randol: I treasure your friendship, and so does my entire family. Every day you and your family make us feel loved.

  Thank you to the librarians and booksellers who make my family and me feel so welcome in your aisles. Thank you to the terrific teachers who inspire my sons’ love of reading, Kristin Cacciapaglia, Nicole Meinel, Patti Osborne, Roisin McGuire, Kirsten Zarras, Lena Nurenberg, Elizabeth Fortune, Barbara Nasti, Patty Peterson, and Susan and Haley Ross.

  There are all kinds of ways that my community and my friends help me write books, mostly by caring enough to ask, “How’s your book coming?” Thank you to all my friends and family, especially Erika Grevelding, Caroline Moore, Jamie Greenberg, Claire Noble, Megan Mazza, Tricia DeFosse, Kim Hoggatt, Jessica Bailey, Liv Peters, Heather Trotta, Linda Harrison, Bob Harrison, Katelyn Butch, and to authors Fran Hauser, Fiona Davis, Micol Ostow, Anna Carey, Kimberly Rae Miller, Jen Calonita, and Noelle Hancock.

  Thank you to Investigator James Castiglione for answering my police procedural questions. All mistakes are mine. Thank you to Dr. Constantine Demetracopoulos at the Hospital for Special Surgery for answering my questions about anatomy and dissection, and for brainstorming with me the ins and outs of the crime at the open house. To discuss characters and circumstances as if they’re real is one of my favorite parts about writing, and I appreciate your careful attention to what I was trying to accomplish.

  Thank you to all my extended family, especially Carole and Ray Sweeney, and Tait, Christine, Walker, and Josey Hawes. Thank you to my parents, Jack and Mary Sise, for raising me in a home with love and books and for supporting me all the way. Thank you to my sister and best friend in the world, Meghan, who made it easy to write about two sisters who would do anything for each other. Thank you to my brother-in-law, Roby; my niece, Rose; and my nephew, Owen, whom I love so much. Thank you to my brother, Jack, for a lifetime of support and friendship, and to Ali, Jack, and Darcy for being such wonderful people to call family. Thank you so very much to Lorena, whom I love like family, and who makes our whole house peaceful and full of love and a whole lot of laughs. Thank you to my husband, Brian, for all his love and support, and for talking about characters and plot points with me, especially on long drives. I couldn’t do this without you. My children, Luke, William, Isabel, and Eloise, are the absolute loves of my life, and I am so grateful to them for loving me each and every day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2018 Jennifer Mullowney

  Katie Sise is a jewelry designer, a television host, and the author of We Were Mothers, which was included on best-of lists by the New York Post, POPSUGAR, and Parade magazine. She has also written several young adult novels, including The Academy, The Pretty App, and The Boyfriend App, as well as the career guide Creative Girl. She lives with her family outside New York City. You can visit her online at www.katiesise.com.