You Knew Me When by Emily Liebert

victory.”
    â€œOkay.”
    I’m not sure how long we sat there, arms resting next to one another’s, sharing a big bowl of buttery popcorn. All I know is that when Laney found us asleep on the couch the next morning, she didn’t look happy.

Present Day

Laney
    L aney peeked out her bedroom window at the maudlin sky with its dense, murky clouds dipping so low you could almost touch them. The backyard appeared muddy and slick from an aggressive overnight drizzle, and the gathering clouds threatened to downpour without warning. She cracked the window just enough to inhale a quick gust of cool air, letting it fill her lungs and infuse those parts of her body that still felt betrayed by the early arousal. It was a typical November morning in Manchester—chilly, damp, at times depressing. But today held promise, dismal weather notwithstanding.
    At two o’clock she was scheduled to meet Luella Hancock’s lawyer for the reading of Luella’s will. Even the thought of it gave her a swift jolt of energy. She’d spent the week since receiving the lawyer’s letter mourning Luella’s passing. It had hit her harder than she’d expected and certainly harder than Rick would have imagined. He’d known Luella only peripherally, and while he understood Laney’s history with her—long days spent swimming in her pool during the summer season, high teas on brisk fall afternoons, and hours devoted to erecting tall snow sculptures in her expansive backyard come wintertime—perhaps he didn’t get that their relationship was infinitely more complex, in light of one common denominator: Kitty.
    Over the past few years, Laney had barely seen Luella at all, save for a chance meeting around town or at the supermarket. After Laney’s father had died six years ago, her mother had moved from their family home to a smaller property down the street from her and Rick. It was only four miles from where she grew up, but somehow those four miles made all the difference. Each time Laney had bumped into Luella, looking every bit as exquisite as always in her tailored cashmere coats and mink stoles, Luella had invited her for an afternoon tea or to bring Gemma and her friends by for a swim. And Laney had always replied with an optimistic yes. Regretfully, her optimism hadn’t translated into action—life always seemed to get in the way. And she and Luella had grown farther and farther apart over time.
    When Laney had delivered the news of Luella’s passing to her mom, Carol had been predictably surprised—it was a rare circumstance for information to flow from Laney to Carol. Typically, Carol was privy to this sort of hot-off-the-press item first, through the Manchester gossip mill. Later that day, her mom had called back, armed with the knowledge that Luella had passed away comfortably in her sleep, and they’d shared a collective sigh of relief.
    If Laney was being honest, she and Luella had never been that close. Nothing like Luella and Kitty. They’d had a uniquely resilient bond that could, in some measure, be attributed to their mutual losses—Kitty’s mother, Luella’s husband, and the children Luella had never been able to conceive on her own. It had taken years for Laney to truly understand the fundamental role Luella had played in Kitty’s life. She’d been more like a surrogate mother to her than the mysterious albeit munificent neighbor she’d been to Laney. Still, Luella had named Laney in her will, an act that afforded Laney endless satisfaction. If only Kitty knew.
    Laney wandered into the bathroom and cranked the shower lever all the way to hot. She stripped off her nightgown and stepped into the torrid stream of water, allowing it to beat against her sore muscles. A quick shampoo and shave, and she was toweling off, then slipping into her most professional-looking outfit—charcoal gray wool slacks, which she’d scored at