“I’d love one.”
They were silent as Quinn poured the batter into the frying pan and Lucy continued to make short work of her breakfast. By the time Quinn turned the pancake onto a plate for her mother and passed it over, the room was crackling with tension and unanswered questions. Quinn was sure she could feel them spark against her skin like living things. But she didn’t dare to talk about anything that mattered in front of Lucy. Not here. Not now.
“Thank you,” Liz said quietly.
Quinn watched as her mother poured the syrup and took a tentative bite of the warm pancake. It must have earned her approval because she cut off three squares in quick succession and lined them all up on the tines of her fork. “These are delicious,” she said, and for some reason she looked as if she might cry. “Did you make them yourself? I didn’t know you could cook!”
“Of course I can cook. Very well, actually.”
“But Walker’s the baker in the family.”
Quinn felt like throwing her hands up in the air. When she had first told her mother about Walker’s aptitude with bread, Liz had smiled thinly and made a comment about how she had never before known a man who baked. As if baking bread was akin to collecting porcelain unicorns. “I’m not sure you’ve ever even tasted his bread,” Quinn managed, fighting to keep her tone civil.
“And that’s wrong.” Liz’s eyes flashed with uncharacteristic fervor. “I would love to taste his bread.”
Quinn was so taken aback her tongue was cemented to the roof of her mouth.
“I’m sure he makes delectable bread. Can I buy some from you? Maybe a loaf a week or something like that? I’m not really supposed to eat carbs, but . . .” She trailed off.
“Mom.” Quinn gave her head a little shake, trying to regain some of her composure. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. I told you that already.”
Quinn leaned her forearms on the counter so she could be face-to-face with her mom. “You need to tell me what’s going on. You’re not having a stroke, are you?”
“Absolutely not! That’s a crazy thing to say.”
“You’re not exactly acting like yourself.” Quinn searched her mother’s pale blue eyes. What were the ABCs of a stroke again? Wait. That was the acronym for a suspicious mole. FAST? Yes, that was it. Face drooping, something about the arms . . . Quinn couldn’t remember the rest. But it didn’t seem to matter anyway. Apart from acting like she had been the victim of the body snatchers, Liz looked perfectly fit and healthy. As always.
“We need to talk,” Liz whispered. As if Lucy was deaf. As if she couldn’t hear the woman who was sitting right next to her. “Alone.”
“Mom.” Quinn shot Lucy a quick, nervous smile. “I think that—”
“You don’t understand,” Liz said, ignoring her. She looked pained, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy as if she, too, had hardly slept. “Honey, there are some things I need to tell you.”
Saturday
10:12 a.m.
Quinn
Mom knows about Lucy.
Nora
How could you let that happen?
Quinn
It doesn’t matter. He’s here.
Nora
What? Now? Is Lucy okay?
Quinn
We’re all fine. But we need you.
Now.
NORA
PINE HILLS WAS a squat, uninspiring building in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. It had once been white but was now a dismal, dirty gray that would have made even the most cheerful person question her sunny disposition. Nora was by nature more prone to doom and gloom, and even driving past Pine Hills was often enough to make her mouth sag at the corners. She steeled herself as Ethan put on his blinker and turned into the mostly empty parking lot.
“Why do old folks’ homes always have to be so depressing?” he asked, pulling through the roundabout in front of the main doors. “I hope I’m shot. Or die in a fiery blaze. Anything would be better than ending up in a place like this.”
Well, Ethan certainly wasn’t helping matters. “That’s morbid.” Nora turned to him, her brows in a hard line over her narrowed eyes. She didn’t know it, but angry was one of her best looks. She was resolute and ethereal, remote and untouchable. Gorgeous was the term that an ex-boyfriend had once used as she was flaying him alive with her keen tongue.
“No offense.” Ethan lifted a hand in surrender. “I didn’t realize you were so attached to the Key Lake convalescent home.”
Nora waved her hand dismissively. “I’m on edge,” she said. But that was more than an understatement. Quinn’s text had unnerved her—all she wanted to do was get this over with and race to the A-frame, where she knew Everlee was waiting. And Quinn. And her mother. Nora resisted the urge to groan. How had Liz gotten involved? More important, what was Nora thinking? Why had she dragged her family into all of this? She sighed and gave Ethan what she hoped was an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind me.”
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No.”
“I’ll be right here.”
Nora didn’t bother responding.
It was only a few paces from the car to the main entrance of Pine Hills, but the automatic doors swooshed open a bit late and Nora was left standing in front of the glass for a few seconds longer than was strictly comfortable. She could see the welcome desk and the receptionist who sat behind it, and as she waited for admittance they stared at each other. Nora thought she recognized the woman, but she couldn’t quite place her.
“Hello,” she called in greeting when Nora was finally admitted. “I think you’re about the last person I expected to see walk through those doors today, Nora Sanford.”
Nora waffled for a moment, slowing her steps as a generic smile spread across her face. Who? she thought, riffling through an outdated Rolodex in her mind. She could almost smell the dust of disuse. Memory lane wasn’t a place that she frequented these days.
“Anika.” She came up with her name at the last second. They had attended Key Lake High for a couple of overlapping years, but Anika was almost unrecognizable. Frizzy hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, anemic scowl, unflattering scrubs printed with baby-blue squares that made her look washed out and pale. Nora swept a hand through her own short hair and wished that she had taken the time to apply a little makeup or at least work some mousse into her limp strands. Anika probably thought she had aged just as poorly. “It’s nice to see you.”
They didn’t shake hands, but Anika did give her a small smile. “I can’t imagine what you’re doing here, Nora. We don’t have any of your friends or relatives in residence and you never struck me as the charitable type.”
On second thought, Anika hadn’t smiled. She’d bared her teeth.
Because Nora was in a hurry and not much in the mood for social convention anyway, she followed Anika’s lead and got down to business. “I’m actually here to ask about Lorelei Barnes.”