The Mirror and the Mask [Hardcover]

Traverse City, Michigan

Summer 1990

For the third time in less than ten minutes, Annie’s mom rushed into the bathroom to redo her makeup. It was definitely weird be­havior. Her mom had a routine that never varied. She was the assis­tant manager of one of the big resorts near Traverse City and always looked perfect when she left for work late in the afternoons. Today was her day off, so Annie figured something was up. On days like this, her mom usually dressed pretty grungy. Sweats. Tank tops. Old T-shirts. But this afternoon, she was so incredibly wired, rocketing back and forth between the bathroom and the bedroom, that Annie wasn’t even sure her mom knew she’d come back from the mall.
Annie Andrews was thirteen. She and her mom lived in an apartment complex not too far from the Miller Creek Nature Pre­serve, which was a way cool place with lots of great walking paths. This was the best place they’d ever lived. There was a workout room, a playground, and even a putting green. Annie had taken up putting after her mom bought her a used putter for her birthday. If she did say so herself, she was getting pretty good at it.
But best of all, the apartment was close to the Grand Traverse Mall, where Annie met her friends almost every day during the sum­mer. Her mom had always worked resorts, starting with her first job as a  house keeper at the Boardwalk Plaza in Rehoboth Beach, the town where Annie was born. Over time, she’d moved up the ladder all the way to management. After Annie’s dad died of cancer—when she was five—they’d lived in a  whole bunch of places. One time, Annie attended three different schools in a single year. But that was a while ago. Annie’s mom promised that they  wouldn’t have to move again for a long time, which was good because Annie adored her cur­rent school. She was working on her first boyfriend and  couldn’t bear the thought of ever leaving.
Making strangling noises, Annie’s mom wiggled into a tight pair of white jeans, examined herself in the full-length mirror in her bed­room, pressed a hand to her stomach, and let her shoulders droop. “Ugh.”
“What’s up?” asked Annie from the doorway.
Her mom jumped. “Honey, you scared me. I didn’t know you  were back.”
“Figured.”
Pulling on a pink lace camisole, she stood with one hand on her hip, nervously turning one side, then the other, to the mirror. “I got a call while you  were gone.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s someone—a man—coming over in a few minutes. He’s . . .” She hesitated, easing down on her bed.
“He’s what?”
“Well, actually, he’s somebody I met a long time ago.  We’ve been writing each other for years.”
“You have? How come you never said anything about it?”
“This is kind of hard to explain, honey. He’s . . . been . . . in prison.”
Annie arched her eyebrows.
“Nothing violent. He just made some bad decisions and ended up in jail.”
Annie didn’t respond, mainly because she had no idea what to say.
“I . . . care about him a lot,” continued her mother, gnawing at a fingernail. “His name is John. Johnny Archer.”
“Uh-huh.” It was a dumb response, but it was all Annie could manage.
“See, I knew he was getting out of prison this month, but he never told me the exact date. And now he’s  here. In town. He wants to see me. And you, too.”
“You said you care about him. Does that mean you, like, love him?”
Her mom gazed down at her hands. She’d taken off her wedding band years ago and replaced it with a red garnet set in silver. Annie thought her mom had bought it, but now she wondered if this Archer guy had given it to her. “Yes, honey, I do.”
“Does that mean you want to marry him?”
“Honestly, I  haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“If you do marry him, do I have to change my last name?”
“Oh, honey, I’d never make you do something like that, not against your will. We’ll have a lot of time to talk. Nothing’s going to happen right away.”
The phone rang.
“That must be him,” said Annie’s mom, leaping up and dashing past her into the kitchen. “Yes?” she said, snatching the receiver off the wall, sounding breathless, excited. “You’re  here. I’ll buzz you in. We’re on the east end of the complex. Third floor. Turn right when you get off  the elevator.” She listened for a few seconds. “Yeah, she’s here.” Turning her back away from the door, she whispered, “Me, too. Fingers crossed.”
Annie walked into the kitchen. She had big ears and had picked up everything her mother had said, but she  wasn’t quite sure what it all meant.
Her mom hung up the phone. Slowly, she turned, her face flushed, her eyes darting nervously. “You’re gonna love him, I know you will.”
“Where does he live now?”
“Well, ah, when he was a kid, his family lived all over.”
“But what about now?”
“Like I said, he just got out of prison.”
“Is he gonna stay with us?”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
Annie truly didn’t know. But she had a suspicious feeling that it would. She and her mom  were a team. They didn’t need anyone else to make them happy. Her mom had never dated after Annie’s dad died. Annie asked her about it once. Her mom said she was too busy earning a living to worry about romance.
Annie was still deciding what to say when the doorbell rang.
“How do I look?” asked her mom, searching Annie’s face for reas­surance.
“Okay, I guess.”
She rushed to the door.
Out in the hall stood a dark- haired guy wearing a red-and-blue plaid shirt and jeans. He held a beat-up suitcase and a paper sack.
“Mandy?” he said, letting the suitcase drop. He whipped off his sun­glasses. “God, you  haven’t changed a bit.” He grabbed her and squeezed her tight, his eyes closed. He opened them while they  were still hug­ging and looked at Annie. And then he winked.
Annie frowned. The wink made her feel weird.
Tugging at Johnny’s arm, her mom led him into the living room, where they all sat down, Johnny and her mom on the couch, and Annie in a chair across the room.
“Johnny, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Annie.”
Johnny nodded, grinned. That’s when Annie decided he was sort of good-looking. His skin was really pale, and he  wasn’t much taller than her mom, but he was built. And he had twinkly eyes and a smile that promised something fun.
“Hey,” said Johnny, reaching around behind him for the brown paper sack. “I brought you both a present.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” said Annie’s mother, although she looked pretty darn happy about it.
“Here,” he said, handing her a small box.
Her mom acted a lot like a dog they’d once had. When you said “treat,” he wagged his tail so hard that his entire body shook. That’s what Annie’s mom looked like. She was vibrating. Annie  wasn’t into obvious emotion and thought the reaction was pathetic. Old people could be so uncool.
When her mom opened the gift, her eyes lit up. She held up a tiny bottle of perfume so Annie could see it. Unscrewing the cap, she sniffed. “It’s wonderful. I love it.”
“So do I,” said Johnny, one eyebrow raised at her, another grin spreading across his face. “And for you, Annie.” He pulled a paper­back out of the sack and tossed it across to her. “Do you like novels?”
“Sometimes,” she said nonchalantly, one leg draped over the other. He wasn’t about to get some stupid overreaction out of her.
“What’s the title?” asked her mom.
“Catcher in the Rye,” said Johnny.
Her mom’s smile dimmed. “You think that’s an okay story for a thirteen- year- old girl?”
Johnny shrugged. “I read it when I was thirteen. It was my favor­ite book for years.”
Sensing that there might be something off -limits about the novel, Annie got up. “Think I’ll go down and sit by the putting green.”
“Honey, I’m not sure—”
“Oh, let her have some fun,” said Johnny.
Annie had just opened the front door when Johnny added, “Take your time. Your mom and me, we’ll just be up  here getting reac­quainted. And hey, I thought I’d take you both out for pizza later. That sound good to you?”
“Johnny?” said her mother. “Can you afford that? I could make us something  here.”
“Hell, woman, if I  can’t afford to take my two favorite ladies out to dinner, they might as well shoot me right now.”
Favorite ladies, thought Annie. Pathetic beyond belief. But she glanced back at him because the defiance in his voice connected with some­thing inside her. For the first time since his name had been brought up, she found herself smiling.

Present Day

As Jane saw it, there  were several possibilities. For one, she would turn forty-five in the fall. Her mind froze as she mentally tiptoed around the numbers. It  wasn’t all that long ago that she thought thirty- five was the departure lounge. Now sixty was only fifteen years away. Not much time. But time, as she’d learned, was a malleable concept. It often ...