Kelly turned to Marin, made the introductions. “Tanya goes to the Rhode Island School of Design. This is, what, your third summer in town?”
“Fourth,” Tanya said. “Kelly, this mosaic is one of my favorites of yours. Really awesome. And it’s being given the place of honor around here, apparently,” she said.
“Oh yeah? Where’s it going?” Wiping her brow, then putting her hands on her hips, Kelly surveyed the two-story entrance hall.
“In the dining room.”
“Sounds good. All right, kiddo. See you around.”
“Wait! Don’t go. She’s out back and she’s expecting you.”
“Another time. We have to run.”
“Kelly, don’t leave me hanging. She’ll kill me if you don’t say hi.”
Kelly groaned. “Fine. Lead the way.”
The house had dramatic high ceilings and was air-conditioned to an arctic temperature. It was all white walls and monochromatic pale furniture. The only splashes of color came from the oil paintings and sculptures.
“This will just take a minute. Hopefully,” Kelly said to Marin.
Sliding glass doors opened onto a deck and a comma-shaped swimming pool. A woman in a white one-piece bathing suit and an oversize white hat stretched out on a chaise longue. She waved them over.
“Hi, Sandra,” Kelly said.
“Hi, darling. Is my new baby here?”
“Yep. Tanya has it in the foyer.”
The woman clapped in delight, like a child presented with an ice cream sundae topped with a sparkler.
“You have company today,” the woman observed. Closer now, Marin guessed she was in her late forties, maybe early fifties. It was tough to say for sure; half her face was hidden behind Jackie O. sunglasses. Her lipstick was a glossy neutral shade, not too brown, not too pink—a color only a makeup artist could successfully pick out for you. She wore a rope of gold around her neck.
“This is Marin Bishop. Marin, Mrs. Sandra Crowe.”
They exchanged greetings, and then Sandra pushed her glasses up and looked at Kelly. She had the sort of well-preserved beauty Marin was used to seeing in Manhattan.
Sandra tied a black sarong around her waist, slipped into her gold Tory Burch flip-flops, and said, “Let’s go take a look!”
They followed her into the entrance foyer, where the mosaic was propped up against the wall. Sandra gasped and again clapped her hands in delight.
“It’s beyond! Beyond. Oh, Kelly. You are a genius.”
“Glad you like it.”
“Like it? I’m obsessed. Do you think you could do another mermaid? I would love to do a stained-glass piece on the window in the master bath.”
“Sure. We can talk about it.”
“Fabulous. Why don’t you two stay for breakfast?”
“Thanks, Sandra, but we have to get back. I have a friend’s birthday party this afternoon.”
“Well, another time. But before you run off, tell me, is it true that the inn isn’t opening this season?”
“That’s right,” Kelly said.
“Amelia isn’t unwell, I hope.”
“No, she’s just fine, thanks for asking.”
“It’s a lot of work, the inn,” said Sandra.
“Work we’ve loved.”
“But how long can you do it? You remind Amelia that I’m ready to take that load of a house off her shoulders any time she is ready. You two should enjoy yourselves a little! Travel light.”
“I’ll let her know, Sandra. But she’s not selling anytime soon.”
The sunglasses went back on. “Just be a doll and relay the message. Oh, and I’m having a Fourth of July party. You and Amelia must come. You too,” she said as an afterthought to Marin, clearly having already forgotten her name.
“We’ll check our calendars,” said Kelly noncommittally.
“It’s cocktails and dinner before everyone heads over to the fireworks. And I’m going to officially unveil your mosaic. I’m sure my friends will be lining up to commission pieces of their own.”
Kelly nodded. “Well, how can I say no? Thanks, Sandra. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Back in the car, Marin asked, “Is Amelia really thinking of selling her house?” For some reason, the idea of Sandra Crowe owning the house made her sad.
“Not anytime soon. The house has been in Amelia’s family for five generations. But the truth is, there isn’t any family left to care for it.” She looked pointedly at Marin. “You should stay the week. It’s just a few days. You were on your way to leave this morning, weren’t you?” Kelly said.
“Yeah,” Marin admitted. “Okay. I’ll stick around for a few days. But as far as Sandra’s Fourth of July cocktails, you’re on your own.”
Kelly laughed.
Rachel hoped she wasn’t being selfish, pushing so hard to see photos of her father. But why did Amelia keep the only photos of her lost son stashed away in the attic?
She stretched out on the plush queen-size bed in her glorious room. The sun streamed in through the gauzy white curtains as the ceiling fan churned the fresh breeze blowing through the window off the bay.
A knock on her door.
“Come in,” she called out.
Blythe poked her head in. “Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Marin?”
“Not since breakfast.”
“I want to go to the beach and thought it might be a nice thing for the two of us to do together. But she’s not in her room.”
Rachel sat up. “Maybe she went for a walk. Where’s the beach?”
Blythe came in, pulled a map from her handbag, unfolded it, and pointed out Herring Cove.
“We should rent bikes,” Rachel said.
“I haven’t been on a bike in thirty years.”
“Well, you know what they say—it’s just like riding a bike!”
Blythe laughed.
“Knock, knock,” Amelia said outside the open door. “May I come in?”
“Sure! We were just thinking about renting bikes. Is there a place nearby?” And then Rachel noticed the photo albums in her arms.
“Yes. Although Kelly and I have bikes if it’s just the two of you.”
“Is that…you have the photos of my father?”
Amelia nodded. “I’ll just leave them here for you to look through at your leisure.”
“Oh, don’t go!” Rachel said. “I want to look at them with you so you can tell me things. Like, where they were taken and stuff.”
Amelia hesitated.
Blythe folded up her map and headed for the door.
“You don’t have to leave,” Rachel said.
“I’ll find you later,” Blythe called out without so much as a glance behind her.
Hmm. Wasn’t she curious to see a photo? After all, Nick Cabral was Marin’s biological father too. Rachel could imagine her own mother being indifferent, but Blythe was so involved.
Amelia sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Rachel, you know I’m delighted with this turn of events. Meeting you and your sister is the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time. But I can’t say it isn’t complicated. Nick and I parted on bad terms. He was angry with me. At the time of his death, we hadn’t spoken in a few years. And the fact that we never had a chance to resolve our issues is very, very painful.”
Oh, what had she done? She was a bull in an emotional china shop.