Shadow Creek by Joy Fielding

the side of the bed fartherfrom the window, studied the instructions for placing an outside call, and punched in her mother’s number. “We’ll give you some privacy,” she heard Melissa say as her mother’s line rang once, twice, three times, four …
    “My turn in the bathroom,” James was saying as they left the room.
    The phone was picked up in the middle of its eighth ring, although no one said hello. “Mom? Are you there?”
    “Allison?” her mother asked.
    “No, Mom, it’s Valerie.”
    “Valerie, dear. You’re sounding more and more like your sister every day. How are you?”
    Val wondered when was the last time her mother had actually spoken to Allison, who’d relocated to Florida two years earlier in a largely futile effort to reconnect with their father. “I’m fine. You?”
    “Just fine, darling. Although you caught me at a rather inopportune moment. I was just about to step into the bath.”
    Val bit down on her lower lip. Her mother was always either just stepping into or out of the bath. It meant she was either about to pass out or pour herself another drink. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in Manhattan for the weekend. I was going to call earlier but … something came up.” She waited several seconds for her mother to ask what. “Anyway, I’ll be at the Plaza,” she continued when no such question was forthcoming. “In case you need to reach me.”
    No curiosity as to why she might be staying at the Plaza for the weekend. Just silence.
    “It’s a fortieth-birthday present from James and Melissa,” Val offered.
    Another long pause. Then, “I was planning to phone you later …”
    “I’m sure you were.”
    “You didn’t think I’d forget my daughter’s fortieth birthday, did you?”
    “I was hoping not.”
    “So, have a great day, darling,” she said after an uncomfortably long pause. “I really have to go now. My bath is getting cold.”
    Val nodded into the receiver.
    “If you’re talking to your sister, be sure to give her my love.”
    “I’ll do that.” Val doubted that Allison would remember her birthday, either, or call her even if she did. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d exchanged such mundane pleasantries. And it had been years since she’d spoken to her father.
    If I have a birthday, and my family doesn’t remember it, she asked herself now, do I even exist?
    “Bye, darling.”
    “Maybe we could have dinner on Sunday,” Val began. But the line was already dead.
    Brianne appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. “How drunk was she this time?”
    Val lowered the receiver to its carriage. “Please don’t talk that way about your grandmother.”
    “Why not? It’s the truth.”
    “It’s not that simple.”
    “Yeah,” Brianne said. “It is.”
    “Are you all right?” Jennifer asked from beside Brianne.
    “Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?” Val jumped to her feet. The last thing she needed at this particular moment was Jennifer’s sympathy. What she needed was a drink. Hell, it worked for her mother. She marched into the living room. “So, is everybody hungry?”
    “I think I’ll wait to eat until Evan gets here,” Jennifer said.
    “I’ll wait with Jennifer,” Brianne said before anyone asked.
    “Your father might not be here for hours,” Val reminded her as James and Melissa walked toward the door.
    “That’s fine. It’s too early to eat anyway.”
    “Suit yourself.” Val was just stepping into the hall when the phone rang, its surprisingly shrill sound bouncing off the walls like steel balls in a pinball machine.
    “Hello? Evan? Thank God,” she heard Jennifer say. “We got here about fifteen minutes ago. Where are you? Are you on your … What?”
    Val waited outside the door for the inevitable.
    “No, please don’t tell me that. Not till tomorrow?” Jennifer said.
    “Surprise, surprise,” Val muttered.
    “That’s just great,” Brianne said.
    “I’m really