“Sorry,” I said. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had it so loud.” She looked around quickly, like she’d misplaced something, then lifted her messenger bag from the floor by the chair and placed it over the book. Before it was covered, I glimpsed small, neat handwriting, a flash of white. “What’s up?”
She smiled at me, but her eyes kept flicking back to the bag, like it might suddenly slide off the desk and expose the book.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Of course.” She waved one hand. “I was just journaling. Lots on the brain: college stuff, Riley… you know.”
Sensing she’d be more comfortable with some distance between her private thoughts and me, I went to the other side of the room and sat on the bed. “Speaking of stuff on the brain,” I said carefully, “I keep thinking about what you said a few weeks ago. About Raina and Zara.”
For half a second, her face froze. In the next instant, she stood up and joined me on the bed. “The day in the park? When my mind was playing terrible tricks on me?”
I nodded. “That’s just it. I know they weren’t really there because there’s no way they could’ve survived the harbor freezing…” I hesitated, debating how much to say.
“But you can’t help wondering… what if?” she finished.
“Exactly.” There was certainly more to it than that, but maybe we could talk about the possibility without my divulging what—or who—I’d seen at the coffee shop yesterday.
“I wonder, too.” She stretched out, hugged a pillow to her chest. “Sometimes it scares me so much I lie here, wide awake, just waiting for them to appear at the window or jump out of the closet.”
I frowned, thinking of the countless nights I’d done the same thing in this very room. Although then I’d been waiting for the bogeyman, and Justine had been there to help coax me to sleep.
“But you know what I tell myself?” Paige said.
I shook my head.
“That Grandma B would know. She’d hear them, or sense them, or something, and she would tell me long before anything could happen. And she said that she hasn’t heard them—”
“Since the harbor froze.” Seeing the surprise on her face, I added, “We talked about it a little when you and Oliver went out to get breakfast. She told me the same thing.”
“Oh.” She lowered the pillow to her lap, traced an embroidered flower with her finger. “Did you guys talk about anything else?”
“Not really.” Now wasn’t the time to reveal what else I’d hoped to learn from Betty. “To be honest, she seemed a little… off.”
Paige’s eyes met mine. “Off how?”
“I don’t know… tired. Distant. Not quite herself. You didn’t notice?”
“No. But it’d be understandable. Between her physical and emotional recoveries she’s got a lot going on.” She added lightly, “Maybe she should keep a journal.”
I smiled. “And Oliver seemed okay to you? Not extra uptight or anything?”
She considered the question. “He seemed even more protective of her than usual, but I thought that was nice—not weird.”
“You’re right. It’s great that they’re looking out for each other. And Betty does seem to be doing amazingly well physically. She looked a million times stronger last weekend than she did at the end of the summer.”
“Well, she is Winter Harbor’s favorite super senior citizen.”
I forced myself to ask the next question before I could chicken out. “Do you know if she’s doing anything special to regain strength? Besides swimming?”
“Eight times a day? I don’t think so. That doesn’t leave much time for yoga and weight lifting.”
“No special diet? Vitamins or supplements?”
I’d hoped for hints as to how I might build up my own strength, but I’d gone too far. Paige’s eyebrows lowered as she
tilted her head.
“Not that I know of,” she said. “Why?”
My face flared. “No reason. I just—”
“Knock, knock!”
This time, Paige and I both jumped. I must not have closed the door all the way because Mom poked her head into the room without actually knocking or waiting for a response.
“Morning, girls!” she sang. “Just wanted to let you know that there are fresh goodies—and lots of fun—waiting for you downstairs.”
“Thanks, Mom. We’ll be right there.” I waited for her to start down the hallway before turning back to Paige. I was prepared to mumble my way through some sort of explanation for wanting to know the secret to Betty’s health success, but she was already sliding off the bed and reaching for her robe.
“I’m starved. Do you mind if we eat first and chat more later?”
I swallowed a disappointed sigh. “Not at all.”
In the hall she hurried toward the back staircase that led to the kitchen. I started to follow, but something by the window at the opposite end of the hall stopped me.
A fleeting flash of silver.
“Vanessa? You coming?”
I gave Paige a quick smile and motioned to the bathroom. “Be there in a second.”
As her footsteps faded down the stairs, I dashed toward the light. I told myself it was just the sun reflecting on a passing car, but I couldn’t shake what Paige had just said about waiting for Raina and Zara to appear outside the bedroom windows.
Reaching the end of the hall, I held my breath, slowly pulled open the sheer white drape… and exhaled when I spotted the cluster of silver balloons tied to a lamppost across the street. A neighbor having a birthday party was no reason to freak out.
Simon, however, was.
He was standing just down the sidewalk from our house, looking around like he wasn’t sure where he was.
My heart hammered in my chest and my entire body burned as I flew down the main stairwell, across the living room, and through the front door. He was scanning the row of brownstones and somehow looking better than I’d ever seen him in jeans, a gray sweater, and a navy blue peacoat. He wore real shoes—brown leather ones, with laces—instead of his regular sneakers, and his dark hair was shorter than the last time I’d seen him. It was shinier, too, like he’d used some sort of styling gel.
Those appearance changes were enough to process, but one thing really got me.
“Where are your glasses?” I asked.
His head snapped in my direction. When he saw me, relief washed over his face. He pocketed a piece of paper (directions, I assumed, since he’d never visited me in Boston before), and walked toward the steps, stopping before the last one.
“I got contacts,” he said.
“Why?”
“To get that much closer to a microscope lens.”
I smiled. That would be the reason.
“I got your messages. I’m sorry I didn’t respond, but I was working in the lab and didn’t get them until late last night, and I figured you were already sleeping, so…”
“So you just decided to get in your car and drive a hundred and fifty miles?”
He looked down at his feet, then back up at me. “To see you, Vanessa… I’d drive a lot farther on much shorter notice.”
I ran down the steps and into his arms. “Do me a favor?” I said into his neck. “There’s a coffee shop on the corner of Newbury and Exeter. Meet me there in twenty minutes?”
Simon’s arms tightened, and I knew he worried something was wrong.
“Full house today. I’d rather have you all to myself.”
He kissed my forehead. “Twenty minutes.”
He watched me run back up the stairs. I waved from the doorway, then peeked through the curtains to make sure he headed in the right direction.
I’d never showered faster in my life; I didn’t even bother with salt. I did take the time, however, to put on lotion, dry my hair, and find the right outfit. The last task was particularly challenging, just like it always was, since I wanted to look good f
or Simon without looking too good for anyone else. I sifted through the clothes spilling out of the red suitcase and onto the carpet, but they were all too plain and wrinkled.
My heart beat faster as I faced Justine’s closet, which was still filled with vibrant shorts and tank tops, skirts and sundresses. If she were here, she wouldn’t hesitate to loan me her clothes—in fact, she’d probably insist on it. She used to encourage me to wear bright colors instead of the neutrals I usually gravitated toward. But it still felt strange opening her closet door, especially because no one had since the day we’d left for Winter Harbor at the beginning of last summer.
I took the thin handle and pulled gently—then harder. I stared at the closet’s contents, not sure what I was seeing.
Her summer clothes were gone. In their place were wool skirts, flannel pants, and cashmere sweaters. They were organized by type of clothing and color, with the reds and oranges on the left fading to tans and ivories on the right.
No one but me ever came into this room. Had Mom asked the housekeeper to put away Justine’s things without telling anyone? If so, had the housekeeper been confused and accidentally unpacked Justine’s fall clothes?
Or had Mom unpacked them herself?
I was hot again. And sweating. I closed the closet, mopped my face and arms with the towel I’d used after the shower, and redid my makeup. I found a pair of clean jeans and a white T-shirt that wasn’t too badly wrinkled in my suitcase, and a fitted red velvet blazer that had magically appeared in a Nord-strom shopping bag at the foot of my bed earlier in the week. My guess was that Mom had found it in one of her boxes of old yet hardly worn clothes while searching through the basement.
“Don’t you look lovely?” she said when I entered the kitchen a minute later. “I knew that jacket would look fabulous on you.”
“Why aren’t they in the basement?” I asked.
My tone made her smile fall, then freeze. “Why aren’t what in the basement?”
“Justine’s fall clothes. They’re hanging in her closet.”
She turned to Paige. “Is that knife sharp enough, sweetie?”
“Did you unpack them?” I walked to the table and stood right by her. “Did the housekeeper?”
“Cheese?” She got up like I wasn’t there. “Crackers? I got a great Brie at the market the other day….”
I looked at Paige, who sat at the table, holding a miniature pumpkin in one hand and a carving knife in the other, clearly unsure what to do. I tried to reassure her with a quick smile before heading for the refrigerator.
“It’s a pretty simple question, Mom. I just want to know—”
She yanked her head out of the open fridge and slammed the door. “Yes, I hung up her fall clothes. I went up there to put away her summer things, but I just couldn’t do it without replacing them. I couldn’t leave her closet like that—so empty, so…”
Her voice trailed off as her breath came faster. Her eyes were wide and watery, her hands tight on the wedge of cheese. She squeezed so hard, the soft white mass bubbled between her fingers.
“It’s okay.” I stepped toward her, opened my arms to pull her into a hug. “It’s hard, I know. I didn’t mean to—”
“Cauliflower.”
I stopped. Mom looked up at Dad.
“For hair. For the jack-o’-lanterns.” He held a spear of cauliflower next to his head so we could see the resemblance. “What
do we think?”
“Dad, now’s not really the time to—”
“Brilliant.”
I grabbed the counter to keep from lunging for Mom. Still squeezing the Brie, she turned away from me and joined Dad at the sink.
“We think that’s brilliant.” She beamed up at him. “Thank you.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, then placed the cauliflower in the sink and gently pried the cheese from her grip.
I watched him guide her hands under the faucet and turn on the water. He said something quietly, and she laughed. My gaze traveled from them to the empty cider mugs on the counter, to the pumpkins on the table, to Paige, still holding a carving knife.
And I realized this was how it had always been. The vacations, game nights, family dinners. It had all been to keep us from dealing with anything real. To distract us from the fact that Mom worked a hundred hours a week and Dad wrote about as much in between teaching and reading other people’s books so that there would be less time to fill with lies.
All those years, I hadn’t been the only one pretending. The only difference now was that I was ready to stop, and Mom and Dad clearly weren’t.
“I’m going out,” I said, backing away. “I’ll have my cell if you decide you actually want to talk.”
CHAPTER 14
ON MY WAY to the Beanery, I decided I needed to confront Dad. He was the one who’d created the uncomfortable, embarrassing situation that everyone wanted to ignore. Of course, if he’d never had the affair, I wouldn’t exist, but given everything that had happened, I thought my absence would be a fair trade-off. If I’d never been born, Mom and Dad could have had a normal, happy marriage. Justine would be alive. And if they still carved pumpkins every fall, it’d be because they genuinely wanted to spend time together—not because they felt the need to strengthen the happy-family facade.
So we’d have it out. That was all there was to it. I’d tell him what I knew and make him talk about all we’d been ignoring for seventeen years.
But first, Simon.
He was sitting at a corner table in the coffee shop, his back to me. I hurried over, relieved to see that only a few tables were occupied. When I reached him, I put my arms around his shoulders and pressed my cheek against his.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” I said.
He was smiling as I sat down, but his expression quickly turned to concern. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his eyes traveling from my damp forehead to my damper chin.
Instantly self-conscious, I took a paper napkin from the dispenser and blotted my face. “It’s better now.” When his frown deepened, I added, “Just more family drama. Mom’s trying to resurrect the past via fall produce, and Dad’s enabling instead of helping her move forward. You know—a typical Saturday in the Sands household.”
He placed one hand on my free one, which rested on the table between us. His fingers curled around mine and his thumb stroked my palm. “You’re warm.”
That was an understatement. My body felt like it’d just rolled across a bed of burning coals. “I was so excited to see you I practically ran the whole way here.”
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, then dropped. “Paige told me what happened the other day.”
“What other day?”
“When you fainted.” His eyes met mine. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to worry. I was going to ask you about it when you came up this weekend, but then when you canceled, I worried way more than I would have if you’d just told me up front. Hence the impromptu road trip.”
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