“Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is,” Megan cautioned.
“Don’t hold back,” Clara added.
Kate propped her elbows on the table. “Don’t listen to them,” she told Amelia, holding her sister’s gaze. “Just tell the truth, apologize, and tell him how you feel.”
“That I love him,” Amelia added quietly.
“Yes. That and that you don’t need him,” Kate added.
Amelia frowned. “What?”
“You and Michael have been this crime-fighting duo for the entirety of your relationship. A relationship that was founded on the fact that you said you needed help to track down our father, right?”
“Well, it started that way, but so what?”
Kate rested her hand on Amelia’s. “Michael needs to know that you don’t need him for that. He needs to know that you’re over Dad. That whatever happened to him—and whether or not we ever find out—is irrelevant to your relationship.”
Kate could see Amelia swallow the advice, run it through her brain, and after some moments, she nodded. “Okay. I think that’s true. I think you’re right, but isn’t that a lot to tack on to the gun admission?”
Smiling, she squeezed Amelia’s hand. “They go together, don’t they? Two truths?” Amelia shrugged, but Kate went on, “You can do it. And no matter what, you have us, right?”
Clara added, “And you have that amazing lighthouse, don’t forget.”
Megan joined in, too, “And apparently, you have my daughter, who seems to prefer you over me anyway.” She laughed, but the other three turned to her.
“Sounds like it’s Megan’s turn?” Amelia said, grinning.
Kate smiled, too. She realized she didn’t even need to talk about her worries over Vivi or the fact that the attic reno was taking too long or any other little trouble in her life. What fed Kate’s soul wasn’t being the center of attention or having her own problems solved. What fed her soul was having the chance to help solve her sisters’ problems. To cry with them. To laugh with them. Celebrate and mourn and do all the things that were stolen from them when Kate stole their innocence so many years ago.
“Well,” Megan answered, cutting through Kate’s thoughts. “We’re about to win Sarah back, in fact.” She wriggled her eyebrows and laughed.
“What does that mean?” Amelia asked through a mouthful of bacon.
“Brian and I are letting her have the field for her friends’ parties,” Megan announced, throwing her hair off her shoulders.
Kate frowned. “You’re… what?”
“We’re letting them get together on the field. When we don’t have an event planned, of course. It’s safer than the shoreline, and it won’t be a secret party.” She dipped her chin to Kate, who nearly choked from the implication.
“True,” Kate admitted, her mind flashing back to high school and Matt and the private moments they never should have had. The ones that turned her from a doe-eyed girl into a lovestruck woman. The ones that turned her into a daughterless mother and an outcast in her own family. She swallowed and, instead of growing defensive, recognized that Megan was onto something.
“That sounds like a smart idea,” Clara added.
Amelia agreed through a murmur.
“Speaking of your events,” Kate went on, “what have you decided to name the fall one? And are you two still collaborating?” Kate pointed from Amelia to Megan.
Megan nodded. “Yes, actually. And, for the fall event, we’re not even using the field at all. Too much construction, first of all. And we had a better location in mind.”
“Where?” Clara asked.
Kate saw Megan glance at Amelia through the corner of her eye before replying, “We thought we could do it at the lighthouse?”
“My grand opening?” Amelia answered immediately, her eyes wide.
“No,” Megan answered. “We’ll do it the weekend before. It’ll drum up attention, and it can be a dress rehearsal for you, so to speak.”
Amelia’s mouth cracked into a smile. “That’d be amazing. What are you going to call it?”
“Easy,” Megan replied, crossing her arms and leaning back. “Love at the Lake.”
Chapter 20—Clara
With Amelia’s problem addressed and Megan’s new idea validated, Clara turned to Kate. “How about you? Anything new in the life of the de facto Hannigan matriarch?”
The others laughed, but Kate glowed. “I like that,” she replied. “I’ll be the matriarch, sure. And to answer your question, not really. I suppose I’ve become the boring one.”
“You were always the boring one,” Megan teased.
“Not always,” Amelia said. “I mean, she did get pregnant in high school, after all.”
“True.” Megan tipped the rim of her water glass to Kate.
Clara pressed on. “Everything’s going well with Matt?” Then she lowered her voice. “And Vivi?”
Megan choked beside her, sputtering on her sip of water.
“Are you okay?” Clara asked, patting her sister’s back.
Nodding, she answered through coughs, “Fine. Fine. Wrong pipe.”
“Matt is great,” Kate answered. “Vivi is okay, too. There are growing pains. You know. Exactly what you might expect.”
Clara nodded. “She’s a complicated child, I think.”
“Every child is complicated,” Megan said, recovering at last from her fit. All eyes turned on her.
Amelia spoke next, “Is this about the Sarah thing?”
“What Sarah thing?” Megan shot back.
Clara winced. Even at school, she’d caught her niece squeezing down the hallway, an injured puppy among jumping, barking hounds. It was a marked difference from the summer. An alarming one. But it wasn’t Clara’s place to sound the alarms. And anyway, Sarah had gone out the night before. Maybe things were settling in for her?
“Sarah eating lunch in the bathroom, remember?” Amelia replied, looking at the others for back up. “I think we were all a little shocked and traumatized to hear that.”
“Oh,” Megan seemed to relax. “No. I mean yes, but… she went to that party last night. With Vivi and Mercy. Paige and Chloe, too. And I think it went well. Well enough that she was still snoring when I left the apartment. She stayed for the whole thing.”
Clara glanced from Amelia back to Megan. “Is she living at the apartment full-time now? What happened to the arrangement with Amelia?”
“She sort of flits between us, but during the week, she’s home,” Megan replied.
“Most weekends, too. I guess she’s getting tired of me.” Amelia winked at Clara, and the tensions instantly settled.
Kate shifted in her seat. “Actually,” she drew their attention back to her, “Matt and Vivi and I are doing as well as can be expected. I have a new game plan, and I think it’ll help us bond a little.”
“What’s that?” Clara asked.
“I think I’m going to tell her about what happened,” Kate said slowly, unevenly.
Megan jumped in, “Do you mean you’re going to tell her about Clara?”
Clara’s jaw fell open. She was already in a sensitive situation with Vivi and all the other girls at the high school. “No,” she spat.
Kate turned to her, concern filling her eyes. “What?”
“You can’t, Kate. It’ll ruin everything.”
“Ruin what?” Amelia asked.
Megan held a hand up. “Actually—”
“No,” Clara interrupted her, leaning forward and pressing her palms on the table. “Kate, please. If Vivi knows that I’m technically her half-sister, she’ll make my life a living hell at school. We finally warmed up to each other on Friday. You can’t.” Clara swallowed and looked at each sister in turn. “Right?”
Amelia nodded. “Leave it alone, Kate. As far as this town knows, Clara is our sister. Her students should see it that way, too. God forbid such a thing get back to old Judith Carmichael.”
Kate frowned but nodded. “Okay.”
&
nbsp; But when Clara looked at Megan, she didn’t see the same promise. “Megan? Swear to me you’ll make sure Sarah doesn’t tell.”
Megan chewed her lower lip for a moment too long but finally said, “Yeah. I’ll talk to Sarah about it.”
After breakfast with her sisters, Clara slipped into the upstairs bath to get changed for her diving lesson with Jake.
The others had teased her only momentarily before each wandered away to her own personal business. Amelia to Michael’s house to talk about the gun. Megan to the apartment to talk to Sarah, hopefully. And Kate to turn rooms and clean the kitchen before the afternoon check-ins.
Clara owned exactly one bathing suit, and it would have to do. She hadn’t donned it for a date ever, but she wore it that summer and felt good enough. It was conservative as far as bathing suits for twenty-somethings went. A tankini, the sort her mother pushed on her. Even in her slight build, the top fit snugly, accentuating her minimal curves and turning her from premature schoolmarm to normal, nicely developed twenty-eight-year-old.
She pulled on a peach cover-up and slid her feet into a pair of teetering wedges before taking to her hair, drawing the top half into a spunky, messy bun on top of her head and leaving the rest loose around her neck. Then makeup—even without a blindfold, she’d need waterproof again, but she kept it lighter, adding just touches of mascara and a smear of lip gloss.
Studying herself in the mirror, her main concern was that she looked a little too young for Jake. But then, there wasn’t much she could or would do about that. Determined to have fun for once and forgo the ever-nagging worries that her brain mixed up for her, she grabbed her black sunglasses from the desk, called goodbye to Kate, and headed straight for the marina.
As soon as she made it onto the sidewalk that cut from the house toward the Village, she spotted him, in the doorway of the marina office, chatting with whoever was inside.
From that angle, Clara had a private moment to gawk. His athletic build. His height. Tan skin and sun-kissed hair. Traits that just months ago, she’d never stopped to fully admire in a man. A late bloomer or distracted or low local inventory, whatever the cause for her delayed interest in the opposite sex—it was gone. Out the window.
She nearly chickened out, slowing to a stop where the sidewalk forked into two cobblestone paths—one to the Village and one to the marina.
“Clara Hannigan, isn’t it?”
The voice came from the first path—the Birch Village one.
Swallowing, Clara turned her head. Walking straight toward her was a vaguely familiar woman. Short, icy blonde hair. A crisp white button-down. Blood-red linen shorts that hit too high on her thin, vascular thighs, which gave way to knobby knees, veiny shins, and strappy sandals. Across her arm was an oversized wicker tote. She pulled trendy tortoiseshell glasses down off her nose and pointed at Clara with them. “Yes, Clara. Hello.”
The greeting fell somewhere between snotty and sweet, and Clara froze momentarily before flicking a nervous glance toward Jake and the office. He hadn’t seen her yet, but he was now dragging heavy-looking cannisters from the office. Prepping for their date, no doubt. Oblivious to Clara’s internal scream for help.
But Clara was an adult. Capable. Strong.
She returned her attention to the woman. “Mrs. Carmichael. Hello.”
Chapter 21—Megan
When she returned to the apartment, Brian was reading the newspaper at the breakfast bar, and Sarah was tucked into the corner of the sofa with her phone. A glass of OJ sat on the side table.
Megan hated to disrupt such a serene moment.
“Hey, you two,” she began, setting her keys down and strolling to the sofa.
Brian murmured good morning. Sarah glanced up briefly with a small, tired smile.
Megan caught her husband’s attention from over their daughter’s head, gave him the look, and jutted her chin toward the door.
At first, he frowned but then got the hint, shuffling the newspaper together and standing up noisily. “I’m meeting Matt at the field to talk about a few things. I’d better get going.”
She rolled her eyes at his obviousness but couldn’t suppress a grin before lowering onto the sofa, a full cushion length away from Sarah.
She grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on.
“Nothing good on Sunday mornings,” Sarah commented, standing and moving to the kitchen.
“Want me to make you some breakfast?” Megan tried.
From the pantry, Sarah waved a sleeve of bagels. “I’m good.”
Megan nodded and pulled her own phone to her face, scrolling mindlessly, waiting for the right moment.
“Where were you this morning?” Sarah asked, popping her bagel into the toaster and pulling cream cheese from the fridge.
“Oh, me?” Megan settled deeper into the sofa. “Breakfast at Kate’s. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Thanks,” Sarah answered, her tone even and cool. Normal.
“So, how did it go last night?”
“How did what go?” The toaster dinged, and Sarah popped the bagel out.
Megan feigned a yawn. “The party. The beach party, or whatever.”
“Oh, it was actually really fun,” Sarah replied, bringing her breakfast to the sofa and sinking back into her spot. Megan held back from gushing. Not only had Sarah enjoyed herself with friends, but she was also willing to talk about it? This was going well. Very well.
Carefully, Megan took some moments to browse channels before replying. Finally, she settled on a Golden Girls rerun and set the remote down. “So, what do you do at a beach party, exactly?”
“Oh, you know,” Sarah responded through a mouthful. “Just walked along the beach and talked, mostly. We made another bonfire, but some adult came by and said they were going to call the police because we didn’t have a permit or something, so we had to put it out. Vivi told them that Mercy’s dad was in charge of the lake, though, so then the adult sort of just got mad and stomped off. It was kind of funny.”
Megan lifted an eyebrow. “Vivi is… a confident girl. That’s for sure.”
“Yeah, and she’s already crazy popular. Especially for being a freshman. Which is weird, because this summer, she acted like I was her ticket to fame or something.” Sarah glanced at her mom and shrugged. “Turns out I never cared about that to begin with. And it turns out she didn’t need me anyway.”
“I’m glad,” Megan answered. “Being popular is overrated, you know.” Inside, Megan was brimming with the joy of having such an easy, open conversation with Sarah. But she knew that it was a delicate dance. If she spoke too much… asked too many questions, the conversation would die. And, of course, she couldn’t be totally indifferent. “What’s Mercy like? She seems… quiet?”
“Mercy is crazy smart and super sweet. Young, though. She gets really wigged out sometimes. Like nervous and stuff.”
“About what?”
“Literally everything.” Sarah took a sip of her juice. “I think being friends with Vivi scares her or something.”
“Vivi kind of scares me,” Megan admitted, lifting her eyebrow at Sarah, who smiled sympathetically.
“She’s all talk. She’s, like, a wannabe mean girl, but her dad is super strict, so she doesn’t get far with it.”
Megan let out a sigh. The truth was taking shape. The reason Vivi sidled up with Sarah to begin with—an older alliance who could help loosen Matt up, perhaps? But then—
“So Sarah, about Vivi—”
“Listen, Mom. If you’re going to ask about Vivi and the big secret—” Sarah warned, but Megan started to shake her head and hold her hands up. Sarah went on, “Because I can’t make her forget that, Mom.”
“Right. I know. But Clara is worried that Vivi is going to… I don’t know… use it against her at school or something. You know Clara has Vivi and Mercy in her class.”
“I know, and I can’t control that.”
“But you can set a good example for her. Right?”
“I can’t control Vivi. And I’m not even technically friends with her.”
“So, you didn’t hang out with her last night?”
“I hung out with everyone last night, Mom. It was a party. That’s how parties go. You sort of hang out with everyone.”
“You know, Aunt Kate wants to tell Vivi about Clara. Clear the air.” She was talking to her daughter as though they were on the same plane now. That’s how it went when there was a secret hanging in the balance. The two secret holders were instantly and unavoidably on the same level. There was no getting around it. Even if they were mother and daughter. Even if there was a twenty-something-year age difference.
“Why don’t you just tell Clara that Vivi knows?” Sarah asked.
It was an entirely reasonable question. And Megan should be able to do that. “But,” she started, “I don’t think Clara cares if Vivi knows as much as if the entire school knows. You know? And as far as she believes, nobody knows. It’s keeping her sane while she adjusts to the new school.”
Sarah’s face twisted in confusion. “If I were her, I’d care more about Vivi knowing. But since she already does… what difference does it make?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think Vivi will use it against her?” Megan asked.
Sarah shrugged. “I think Vivi is a loose cannon.”
“Good expression,” Megan complimented. “And she does seem that way. Maybe she just needs a distraction. Like a club or something. You know? Or a boyfriend?” Megan knew she sounded like a teenager herself, but she also knew that when young girls concocted evil plans—or when they had the propensity to—it was time for a project.
“She’s doing cheerleading,” Sarah replied. “And the boys are already in love with her.”
“Does she like any of them back? Maybe she needs help making something happen.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Mom, high school isn’t the real world. We don’t need matchmakers. And anyway, she doesn’t like high school guys.”
“What do you mean?” Megan asked, frowning.
Sarah made a face, wadded the rest of her bagel in her paper towel, and twisted in her seat. “She likes older guys.”
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