How to Keep a Secret

City Chic?

Urban Chic?

She took a final glance round the living room, satisfied that everything was exactly as it should be.

She heard the front door slam, signifying Mack’s return from school, and unconsciously braced herself.

Her daughter strolled into the room. Mack was tall and did everything in her power to disguise that fact. She was at that age where anything that drew attention was considered embarrassing and to be avoided at all costs, so she slouched to make herself appear smaller.

Lauren had green eyes, but Mack’s were blue. Her hair, even with hints of pink blending in with honey and caramel, was her best feature.

Lauren had a sudden vision of Mack lying in her crib asleep, then holding up chubby arms as an adorable toddler.

“Did you shorten your skirt?”

Noticing her mother, Mack tugged her headphones away from her ears. “What?”

“Did you shorten your skirt?” Immediately she regretted making that the first thing she said.

“No. I grew. It happens. I could stop eating, but then you’d nag me about that, too.” Mack opened the fridge and stared into it as if something in there had personally offended her. “There’s nothing in here.”

How could a fridge full of food be “nothing”?

“The caterers are setting up. There are bagels.” Lauren opened her mouth to tell her not to keep the fridge door open, and then closed it again. Did she nag? “How was your day?”

“I spent it at school. Enough said.” Mack split a bagel and toasted it.

“I had coffee with Ruth and Helen today. They mentioned an ancestry project you’re working on. Sounds interesting.”

“Interesting?” Mack spread cream cheese on the bagel. “I guess that’s one word for it.”

What had happened to her eager, enthusiastic daughter?

“Do you need help? You know our ancestors on my side of the family were whaling captains? Martha’s Vineyard played an important role in the whaling industry. Nantucket mostly provided the ships, but the Vineyard provided the captains and crews and other support.” Seeing that Mack was barely engaged in the conversation, Lauren stopped. She knew she was trying too hard. Maybe she should make it more personal. “Edgartown, where Grams lives, was one of the most important ports on the coast. The Captain’s House was built in the nineteenth century. Your grandparents spent a lot of time restoring it—” She broke off, aware that she’d lost her audience. She might as well have been having a conversation with the freezer.

Mack carried on eating, unresponsive.

Lauren slid onto the stool next to her. “Did something happen today?”

“No.”

Lauren felt a rush of frustration, and mingled in with the stress of it was sadness because she remembered days when Mack would come running in from school, all smiles, desperate to share something that had happened during the day. Look, Mommy, look at this.

Those days had gone.

“Mrs. Hallam called yesterday.”

“Yeah? I bet the conversation was thrilling.” Mack was careless, but Lauren saw her daughter’s cheeks flush.

“She’s concerned about you. About your grades. She wants us to set up a meeting.”

“Grades. That’s what this is about?”

“This?”

“When you hijack me in the kitchen, I know there’s something. I don’t know why you don’t come right out with it.” Mack put the knife down on the counter, smearing grease.

Lauren sat on her hands to stop herself from snatching the knife up and wiping up the mess. “I didn’t ‘hijack’ you. I want you to know you can talk to me, that’s all.”