How to Keep a Secret

I’m living my life without you, and it feels good.

Susan pulled out a starched linen tablecloth. “Did you know this was here? Didn’t this belong to your grandmother?”

“Yes, but she’s been dead more than forty years so I can’t imagine she’ll have a use for it.”

“You don’t want it for sentimental reasons?”

“I have all the memories I need stored safely inside me, thank you.”

And not all of them were good.

Nancy had been grateful to her grandmother. After all, she’d raised her when she’d lost her parents. Maybe she’d even loved her in a way. But had she been a kind woman? Loving? No, certainly not.

Did a hard life have to make you a hard woman?

Nancy wasn’t sure, but she hoped not.

Susan folded the linen tablecloth carefully. “I hear you and Lauren have redecorated The Captain’s House.”

“That’s right. It’s stunning. My daughter is incredibly talented. She’s going to set up her own design business. We’re doing it together.” Pride filled her, pushing out all thoughts of Tom. “She has a brilliant future ahead of her.”

“Still, it must seem strange, letting someone else stay in your home. Must feel as if it doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

“It still belongs to me and I have the ridiculous bills to prove it.” Nancy was beginning to wish she’d chosen somewhere else to disgorge the trappings of her life. She hadn’t realized each box would require a running commentary.

Mack had told her there was a way to call yourself on your phone.

She wished she’d paid more attention.

She was fingering the cellphone in her pocket, trying to remember how to make it ring, when it rang.

Nancy was so shocked she almost dropped it. Had she done that?

Maybe she had more technical expertise than she thought.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket and saw Jenna’s name.

Thank God! Maybe her daughter was telepathic.

“Excuse me, Susan—” she tried to sound regretful “—it’s my daughter. I need to take this. It might be an emergency.”

The last thing she’d expected was that it was in fact an emergency, so when she heard Jenna’s breathless, panicked voice her heart almost stopped. “What, honey? I can’t hear you—you’re not speaking clearly, or maybe it’s a terrible signal—” She was aware of Susan listening avidly, her hands still on the box. Wishing people were better at minding their own business, Nancy moved toward the door of the store. “Jenna?”

Finally she was able to understand and her body turned cold.

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re leaving?” Susan looked at her bemused. “But we have all these boxes to sort through. What if you decide there’s something here you don’t want to give away?”

“Take whatever you like and dispose of the rest. They’re just things, and who cares about things? It’s people that matter.” Nancy was already halfway out the door. “My daughter needs me.”

My daughter needs me.

When Lauren had passed out on the dock Nancy had been unable to move, frozen by what she believed to be her inadequacy as a mother. In the past her girls had never seemed to need her, but they needed her now.

She rushed to her car, brushing past two people who tried to talk to her.

“Can’t stop now. My daughter needs me.”