How to Keep a Secret

The weirdness of it couldn’t be expressed, but her whole life was weird now.

She missed Ed so badly it made her chest ache, and she didn’t understand how it was possible to love someone and be mad at the same time.

Mack stole a glance at her grandmother, trying to work out why she’d brought Scott.

Maybe her grandmother had thought her mom needed a replacement for Ed, although it was a bit quick, wasn’t it? And anyway her mom had said Scott hadn’t wanted responsibility. Unless something had changed radically he wasn’t likely to be interested in taking on a fainting, superskinny broke woman and her messed-up teenage daughter.

Mack didn’t know much about relationships, but she suspected they weren’t much of a catch.

They arrived at the house and her mother insisted on walking from the car.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mack hovered, trying to prove she wasn’t the heartless teen Scott seemed to think she was. “I don’t want you to faint again. Let him carry you.”

“I don’t need anyone to carry me.”

That had to be a good sign, surely? Her mother had always been strong, calm and capable. Even when Mack had blurted out the truth about her dad at the funeral, Lauren had stayed calm and together. She’d been calm and together right until the moment she’d stepped off the boat and seen Scott.

Right now she looked pale and frail. Scott obviously thought so, too, because he prowled close to her, presumably ready to catch her.

It was a relief when they finally stepped inside the house.

The Captain’s House felt like an old friend and was exactly the way Mack remembered it.

Despite what she’d said to her mother, it gave her a little buzz of excitement to be back. She’d once heard a bunch of tourists talking about its “historic charm,” but that wasn’t why she loved it. She loved it because you could literally smell the sea, not just because the ocean was right there outside the door, but because it seemed to have permeated the walls of the house. The place had nooks, secret doors and balconies, and all the rooms were crammed full of stuff. There were books, old naval charts, objects that had been gathering dust for over a century. Her grandmother never threw anything away, which Mack thought was pretty cool although she knew it drove her mother and Aunt Jenna to despair. There were cracks in the paintwork and character. Like an older person, Mack thought, with plenty of life experience and lots of stories to tell.

On the walls of the entryway there were old black-and-white photographs as well as one of her grandmother’s paintings. Except—the painting was no longer there.

She frowned at the faded wallpaper.

“Where’s the painting, Grams? The pretty blue one?” It was the only one of her grandmother’s paintings that she liked. The rest were gloomy. Looking at them made Mack want to dress in warmer clothes.

Her grandmother looked flustered. “I moved it.”

Scott hauled their bags from the pickup and put them in the entryway.

“You must be exhausted after your journey,” her grandmother said. “I’ve made something to eat.”

Mack’s stomach was still churning. “That’s kind, but I’m not that hungry, Grams.”

“You must eat something before you take a nap.”

Mack opened her mouth to point out that she was sixteen not six, and generally made it through the day without needing a nap, but then it occurred to her that it would give her an excuse to escape from all this stress and be on her own. She could message Phoebe.

Anything to get away from her crazy family. And Scott.

“That would be good, thank you.” She felt Scott’s gaze settle on her. She had a feeling he could read her mind and it was a little unnerving.

She slumped on one of the kitchen chairs, lack of sleep and jet lag catching up with her.

“Toast,” her grandmother said vaguely. “I’ll make toast.”

“Great.” She could probably choke down a couple of mouthfuls to appease her grandmother.

“You’ve never met Scott, so I should introduce him properly.”

“We haven’t met in person.” Mack looked at Scott. “In case you’re wondering, yes, I do know that you’re my real father. And I know you basically resigned from the job years ago, which should make me mad at you, but given that I’m low on family right now and can’t afford to be picky, you needn’t worry about me making trouble.”

“Mackenzie!” Her grandmother dropped the cup on the floor, where it shattered into pieces, splashing tea over the floor and the cabinets. “What are you talking about?” She turned to Lauren. “Is this grief talking? I don’t understand.”