“Oh, it’s so lovely!” Blythe said.
It was—it really was.
She felt bad that Marin wasn’t enjoying the trip. Yes, her mother had lied to her, and it had to be upsetting. But Blythe seemed like a pretty amazing mom. Rachel couldn’t imagine having grown up with a mother like that. With Fran, everything was “me, me, me.” With Blythe, it was all about Marin. Just the way she looked at her, so adoringly. She cared about what was going on with Marin and her boyfriend. She came along for their trip! Fran was probably off in Ojai or Joshua Tree again, and who knew when Rachel would hear from her.
She glanced beside her at Marin, who was staring out the window.
“What do you think?” Rachel said. “Cool, right?”
“I can’t believe that car in front of us is just stopped in the middle of the road like that.”
Yes, the car in front of her, a red Jeep, was practically parked while the driver chitchatted with a guy on a bike and his friend, who was leaning into the car’s window. This would be unthinkable in LA, the cause of much honking and yelling. But something told Rachel this was just business as usual in Provincetown.
When the Jeep resumed moving, Rachel made it another block. There, on the left, loomed the three-story gray-shingled Georgian house with a wraparound veranda, red-brick steps, and terraces framed in white fencing. A hanging distressed-wood sign read BEACH ROSE INN.
Rachel’s heart began to beat fast.
Amelia had instructed her via e-mail to just find street parking. But being so close to meeting her grandmother, enveloped in the charm of the strange and wondrous town, such practicalities were too much for her. She could barely think straight, let alone deal with parallel parking.
“I’ll do it,” Marin said, unbuckling her seat belt after Rachel fumbled the first two spots she tried to squeeze into. She pulled the car across the street from the inn, directly in front of a place called Joe Coffee.
“I actually could use a cup,” Marin said.
Was she kidding? How could they delay for even a minute? Their grandmother was right there, waiting for them.
Rachel noticed a chocolate Lab resting on the front porch. She was about to say, No, let’s just go inside. But Marin was so unhappy. If a little caffeine would cheer her up…
They made their way up the path to the café, passing round tables topped with turquoise umbrellas. The table closest to the door was occupied by a group of half a dozen men, all with trim salt-and-pepper beards, trendy eyewear, and colorful T-shirts. Their raucous laughter gave Rachel the urge to pull up a chair and join the conversation.
“Do you want anything?” Marin asked her, taking her place in line.
“I’ve got it, sweetheart. Tell me what you want,” said Blythe.
“No, I’ve got it, Mom.”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Rachel said, biting her lip to keep from saying, Just hurry up!
Luckily, the barista worked quickly. She had blond dreadlocks and eye shadow fit for a midnight rave. Her pink T-shirt read VAGINA IS FOR LOVERS.
Marin and Blythe, coffees in hand, followed her back outside. Rachel had to force herself not to walk double-time. Hurry, hurry.
“Let’s sit at a table for a minute,” Marin said.
Okay, now she was pushing it.
“Marin! We just drove seven hours. Not to mention the twenty-two years it’s taken me to get here. I can’t wait another minute!”
Marin looked stricken, and that’s when Rachel realized she was stalling.
“Fine. You go on ahead,” Marin said.
“Oh no—we’re doing this together.”
“You know what?” Blythe said. “Why don’t you two go on ahead, and I’ll wait here. You should meet your grandmother on your own. I’m going to get a newspaper and have my coffee. I’ll join you in a bit.”
Marin looked torn. She clearly didn’t want to sit and wait with her mother, but she wasn’t ready for Amelia’s house either. And so Rachel did what any sister would do.
She took her by the hand.
Chapter Twelve
Panic. That was the only word to describe Marin’s feeling as she followed Rachel up the red-brick steps. Overhead, red geraniums dangled from a wicker basket.
Marin hung back as Rachel approached the front door, and a large chocolate Lab bounded up to her and licked the hand she put out in protest.
“The door’s open,” Rachel said, reaching for the doorknob.
“Wait! Shouldn’t you knock or something?”
“It’s a B and B—I think we can just walk in.”
Before this could be quietly settled between them, the dog rushed headlong through the open door, announcing them with a bark.
Inside, the only hint that the place was an inn and not just a picture-perfect private beach cottage was the white wooden wraparound desk to the right of the front door. The space was light and airy, all white and gray and sea green. White walls and woodwork, a white wicker table between two pale gray couches facing each other. Small, weathered-looking wood-topped tables covered in knickknacks—antique copper candlesticks, glass bowls filled with gray and moss-green stones. To her left, a framed antique map of Provincetown above a wooden shelf lined with mismatched green and blue glass bottles.
One entire wall was covered with mosaics, some tiled in vivid blues and greens, others monochromatic and made from pale stones and shells. The piece that really caught her eye was an enormous stained-glass starfish.
“Molly, enough barking! What’s all the fuss about?” A redheaded woman emerged from a doorway in the far corner of the room. She wore a V-necked white T-shirt and army-green cargo pants, her hair pulled into two messy low pigtails. She had high cheekbones and creamy skin brushed with freckles. The crow’s-feet around her green eyes and grooves around her delicate mouth were the only indicators of her age. “Oh—hello, girls. You must be the granddaughters!”
“Uh, yeah,” said Rachel. Marin simply nodded.
“I’m Kelly.” The woman held up one finger—Just a sec—and pulled a walkie-talkie-type device from her back pocket. “The girls are here,” she said, before turning back to them with a smile. “Amelia will be right down. Excuse this rambunctious beast. She’s our friends’ dog from down the street and for some reason she makes herself just a little too at home here. I’m going for a grocery run. See you at dinner—oh, any food allergies?”
Marin and Rachel both shook their heads.
“I’m, um, a vegetarian,” Rachel said.
“I used to be, until Amelia turned me to the dark side,” she said with a wink, and then she disappeared back from whence she’d come.
Marin turned to Rachel.
“Who is that?”
“Kelly.”
“Yeah, I get that. Does she run this place or something?”