Identity

“Lou from Security came in at closing last night, hung around until I was finished. Is that what you’re doing?”

“I’m about to finish this glass of wine and this work. But since I’m here, I’ll walk you out to your car when you close.”

“I’m wondering when your family may decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

Now he set his phone down. “First, that’s not how we work. And if you think you’re not worth some trouble, you should work on your self-esteem.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing today in the gym. It hurts a little.”

“You’ll get over it. Last table’s leaving.”

“Yes, I saw.”

When he walked her out, he circled her car. “Big improvement.”

“I know. I’m supposed to check the back seat before I get in, then check the gas gauge, the tire pressure. This car lets you know if your tires are low. I don’t know how it knows, but it does.”

“Good precautions.”

“Do you take them?”

“No.”

That made her sigh as she checked the back seat. “I’m going into that damn gym not because I’m afraid of Jen—though I’m a little afraid of her—and not because I’m not a quitter. I’m going because I won’t be weak.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

“Maybe. Thanks.” She pressed the fob to unlock the door. “Good night.”

She checked the gauges before driving away. There he stood again, she thought, watching her go.

She was getting used to it.





Chapter Thirteen



Spring moved in. Flowers popped, leaves unfurled, and with gratitude, Morgan put away her winter gear.

While her grandmother wouldn’t accept rent, Morgan knew she’d never refuse flowers. Her trip to the garden center flooded her with bittersweet memories of Nina. But having her friend’s voice whispering in her ear as she wandered, as she chose plants brought comfort.

She spent a happy morning and afternoon selecting, buying, hauling, designing the arrangements in pots pulled out of the garden shed, placing colorful annuals in the beds with the sprouting perennials.

When her phone alarm signaled, she put her tools away, went in to clean up and change for work. A good, productive day, she thought. Not looking for something to do but having something to do.

Her day only got happier when she came down and heard excited voices.

“Oh, look at those colors! And how she’s set those pots together that way, at different heights. Like a showpiece.”

“I tell you what, Audrey, I meant to throw that old, rickety stand away. Look at it now.”

“Spray paint and new screws,” Morgan said as she stepped out onto the back patio. “You like it?”

“It’s wonderful.” Audrey leaned over to draw in the scent of heliotrope. “What a wonderful surprise to come home to. And the flowers you planted out front, all so pretty. You must’ve worked all day.”

“It was fun. I didn’t get to all of it.” She gestured to the remaining flats. “But I thought you’d both like to have some fun, and some say in where.”

“Did you buy the garden center out?” Olivia wondered.

“Not nearly. They’re loaded. I didn’t have a chance to get the patio furniture out and cleaned up, but I can do that tomorrow.”

“I’d appreciate that, Morgan. I appreciate this.”

Still glowing, Audrey looked around. “I had no idea you knew how to do all this.”

“Nina taught me about plants. And when you’re on a tight budget, things like wire brushes, sandpaper, and paint are best friends. Anyway, I’ve got to get to work. See you tomorrow.”

“She looked so happy,” Audrey murmured.

“She did. She’s coming along. She’s a girl who needs to do, and she’s doing.”

Audrey brushed her hand over the clouds of sweet alyssum spilling out of one of the pots. “I really didn’t know she could do this, not like this.”

“Now you do.”

For a moment, Audrey took her mother’s hand in a squeeze. “I guess there was a lot about me you didn’t know.”

“Daughters grow up and make their own. That’s how it should be.”

“I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t been able to come back and make my own here.”

“You were, and you have.”

“I know she may not stay, but … I hope the time we’ve got here, together, closes the distance. The distance is my fault.”

“Stop it.”

“It is,” Audrey insisted. “I should’ve done better. I had choices, and she didn’t. And I know she wouldn’t have come back here, to me, not to me, if she’d had a choice.”

“Like the lads from Liverpool said, all you need is love. Maybe I’d add comfortable shoes and an adult beverage after a long day, but love matters most. She loves you, Audrey.”

“She does. I’m so lucky she does. Morgan and I, we became different people apart from each other. Now we’ve got this time to, well, grow together like the flowers she planted. I’m going to treasure every minute of that time.”

“So will I. Why don’t we take a look in the shed before dinner, see what else we meant to toss away that girl can play with, since it makes her happy?”



* * *



Instead of heading home when he left the resort, Miles detoured to Jake’s. His friend lived on the edge of town in a compact two-story frame house with a small, covered front porch.

Miles had helped Jake build the deck off the back—and the pitched roof over it so Jake could grill year-round.

In Jake’s world, if it wasn’t takeout or delivery, it went on the grill.

When he pulled up, Miles noted the duo of hanging pots spilling something colorful above the porch rail. And that meant Jake’s mother had stopped by at some point.

Jake would water them, out of duty to his mother—and a healthy fear of her wrath.

As much at home there as anywhere, Miles walked up to the front door, and in.

He could see straight back to the kitchen, where Jake stood at the counter, slapping ground beef into a hamburger patty.

“Hey. Want a beer?”

“Now that you mention it.”

Miles opened the fridge, which held the beer, a quart of milk, Cokes, a jug of the mango juice Jake was inexplicably fond of, and a single lonely stick of butter.

“I just got in from breaking up a dispute over dog shit in Anne Vincent’s newly tilled flower bed. You know her?”

“No.”

“Avoid if possible. Convinced the shit had come out of her neighbor’s Pomeranian—that’s Gigi—Ms. Vincent scooped up the poop and proceeded to deposit it on her neighbor’s front steps. As witnessed by said neighbor’s eight-year-old son. That’s Charlie Potter.”

“Don’t know him either.”

“Charlie informed his mother—that would be Kate Potter.”

Miles took a seat at the counter, sipped his beer. “Still don’t know them.”

“The ensuing altercation, which involved shouts, hard language, some shoves, alarmed young Charlie enough to have him call the police.”

“That’s where you came in.”

“I was heading home. It’s on the way.” Since Miles was there, Jake started on a second patty. “Both women were—I’m going to reach back for the old-fashioned—het up. I can’t say I feared for my life, but I did fear I’d have to haul a couple of women in.”