You Know What You Did: A Novel - Hardcover

Nguyen, K. T.

 
9780593473856: You Know What You Did: A Novel
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 059347385X ISBN 13: 9780593473856
Verlag: Dutton, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

In this heart-pounding debut thriller for fans of Lisa Jewell and Celeste Ng, a first-generation Vietnamese American artist must confront nightmares past and present. . . .

Annie “Anh Le” Shaw grew up poor, but seems to have it all now: a dream career, a stunning home, and a devoted husband and daughter. When Annie’s mother, a Vietnam War refugee, dies suddenly one night, Annie’s carefully curated life begins to unravel. Her obsessive-compulsive disorder, which she thought she’d vanquished years ago, comes roaring back—but this time, the disturbing fixations swirling around in Annie’s brain might actually be coming true.

A prominent art patron disappears, and the investigation zeroes in on Annie. Spiraling with self-doubt, she distances herself from her family and friends, only to wake up in a hotel room—naked, next to a lifeless body. The police have more questions, but with her mind increasingly fractured, Annie doesn’t have answers. All she knows is this: She will do anything to protect her daughter—even if it means losing herself.

With dizzying twists, You Know What You Did is both a harrowing thriller and a heartfelt exploration of the refugee experience, the legacies we leave for our children, and the unbreakable bonds between mothers and daughters.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

K. T. Nguyen is a former magazine editor. Her features have appeared in Glamour, Shape, and Fitness. After graduating from Brown University, she spent her twenties and thirties hopping from New York City to Taipei, Beijing, Shanghai, and San Francisco. She’s now settled just outside Washington, D.C. with her family and their adopted terrier Alice.

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CHAPTER 1

Let me help with the funeral stuff," Tabby says, grabbing a cold kombucha from the fridge. "I could find the caterer for Grandma's wake or whatever. Like when Papa died last summer."

After Annie's father-in-law passed away quietly at the Shaw family estate in Boston, Tabby proudly assisted with telephone calls and vendor arrangements. Duncan Shaw welcomed his daughter's involvement even though the thirteen-year-old's constant questions about how and what to do ultimately created more work for him. He confided in Annie, "Any inconvenience is well worth it, if it helps Tabby to process her grief."

Now Annie flips through a stack of mail on the counter, buying time as she struggles to craft a tactful response to her daughter's offer. There will be no funeral for M?. Annie, riddled with guilt, couldn't even bring herself to attend the cremation. Duncan had taken care of it for her, disappearing for several hours one morning then returning with four and a half pounds of cremains in a black plastic tub.

Fortunately, something on the kombucha label has caught Tabby's eye and distracted her from the topic of funeral plans. The girl's nose, freckled from a decade of riding lessons, crinkles. "This says 'Made in San Francisco,' but locally brewed is so much better for us and for the environment. Do better, Mom." At that, she raises the bottle to her rosebud lips and chugs the entire thing.

Six dollars gulped down in fifteen seconds. At times like this, Annie can't help but notice how much Tabby takes for granted. She'd never wanted her daughter to grow up as she herself did-and perhaps had overcompensated as a result, buying trendy brands and ignoring Duncan's penchant for lavishing expensive gifts on his little girl.

Tabby swipes her lips on the sleeve of her crisp white hoodie, then tosses the empty bottle into a stainless steel recycling bin built into the custom cabinetry. Again, she fixes a pair of expectant brown eyes on her mother. "So what can I do?"

Annie clears her throat nervously and attempts to level expectations as gently as possible.

"We're not doing a funeral. Just the cremation. I thought you knew . . . there's nobody to invite anyway. Grandma didn't have any friends left, and there aren't any other relatives that I know of."

This was completely true. Annie hadn't even met her father or her older brother, nor did she know the particular circumstances of their deaths. M? had never been willing to share much, only vaguely alluding to the fact that they both died during the war.

"Um . . . well, what about the ceremony to spread the ashes or the wake?" Tabby's voice is growing precariously thin and nasal. With the fragile pride of a teenager, she's taken the rejection of her help, so rarely offered, personally. "I mean, if we don't do something, Grandma's ghost won't be able to rest."

Her daughter's presumptuousness grates on Annie. As soon as Tabby grew old enough to be embarrassed by her grandmother's missing teeth, broken English, and odd ways, she avoided the old woman as much as possible. What right did she have to dictate the terms of M?'s burial?

"Tabby, I appreciate the offer-I do, but Grandma wouldn't want anything fancy."

Her mother scorned American funerals, deriding them as a foolish waste of money with their shiny lacquered coffins and expensive floral arrangements. In fact, with each passing year, M? eschewed more and more material comforts. By the time she reached her eighties, she even refused to sleep on a mattress, opting instead for a frayed tatami mat.

"Wow. Just wow . . . so no service at all for your own mother?" Tabby says, waving her hands around melodramatically. "Is it really what Grandma would've wanted? Or are you just too busy with your painting, your gardening, your precious dog? If Daddy or I died, would you ignore us too?"

"Of course not . . . Tabby!" The thump of her daughter's feet stomping up the stairs drowns out the rest of Annie's words. A minute later, anguished wails of pop-punk music seep down from the girl's bedroom. Lately, this is the norm. Tabby, like every teenager, has developed the uncanny ability to shift moods from zero to sixty in seconds.

Drawn out by the commotion, Duncan emerges from his study and shuffles into the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. "Hurricane Tabitha, I presume?" he says, cocking his head toward the ceiling.

Annie nods. As she fixes lunch, she fills him in on the kerfuffle. Duncan responds as he does every time their daughter acts out.

"She's exploring boundaries, testing out her emotional safety net. Tabitha needs to know we love her unconditionally. You're the adult. Try to be patient."

"You always give her a free pass," Annie says, dumping a bag of mesclun into a big white bowl. She plucks a fennel bulb from a basket on the counter and rinses it. "It's not good for her to always get her way."

"Well, I think she has a point this time. We should have some kind of service for your mom. For closure."

"She would've hated a service. You don't know her like I do." Her voice cracks in frustration. How can she make Duncan and Tabby understand? She and her mother aren't like them.

In search of the right tool to cut the fennel, she slides open a shallow drawer and lifts out the mandoline slicer. M? would have used the dao bào. The image of the old woman's fingers wrapped around the bloodstained knife flashes into Annie's mind. The thought paralyzes her, and she freezes.

At that moment, Duncan wraps his arms around her waist from behind and kisses the top of her head. Startled, she drops the mandoline. It clatters onto the pale green enameled countertop.

"Watch out! Are you trying to make me cut myself?" Her words are drenched in accusation.

Exasperated, Duncan throws up his hands and retreats to the breakfast bar.

Annie waits until he's situated safely across the room before she picks up the mandoline again. Suddenly realizing how much the kitchen tool resembles a rat-sized guillotine, she grimaces. Her cheek twitches, and she can almost feel the gray blur scurrying past her face again. She rubs her cheek against her shoulder, brushing off the sensation.

As she positions the fennel bulb along the chef-sharp steel, Annie thinks about her life before the medication, the pale yellow pill she now takes daily. Back then, riddled with self-doubt, she couldn't trust herself to be near sharp blades.

Her hands tremble as she slides the bulb back and forth across the mandoline. Has she somehow forgotten to take her prescription today? Not likely-but possible. Her mind combs through her actions from the moment she woke up, seeking some detail that will erase the doubt. Nothing comes. After twelve years, swallowing the small oblong tablet is an action done on autopilot, as difficult to recall as taking her first breath in the morning.

Creamy white fennel shavings pile up on the cutting board. Their sweet licorice aroma fills her lungs, pushing out the tightness in her chest and pulling her from her mental quagmire. Exhaling slowly through her mouth, she scoops up a handful of the paper-thin shavings and tosses it into the salad bowl.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she says, glancing over at Duncan with genuine remorse in her eyes. "I've been preoccupied with my mom, and there's just so much to do before the SouthernHer interview Tuesday." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could take them back.

Annie had been thrilled when the lifestyle magazine approached her last month, but the article, which promised to feature her as a rising local artist, had become a tender subject in the Shaw household. Duncan had suggested Annie postpone the interview given her mother's recent death. She'd refused-the thought of putting off the interview hadn't even crossed her...

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Verlag
Dutton
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
059347385X
ISBN 13 
9780593473856
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
384
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Edel Music & Entertainment GmbH
https://www.edel.com

Neum�hlen 17
Hamburg
Hamburg
Deutschland

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