Half a dozen photos were clustered on the nightstand and without thinking Flora picked one of them up.
“That’s my mother on top of Mount Kilimanjaro,” Izzy said. “She climbed it to raise money for charity.”
Of course she did. “That’s—impressive.”
“She loved a challenge. There was nothing she couldn’t do.” Izzy snatched up another photo, gripping it until her fingers whitened. “This is her crossing the finishing line of the New York Marathon. And here—” she grabbed another one “—this was taken after she’d rowed the Atlantic with five other women. One of the TV stations filmed a documentary on it. It was an insane adventure and a huge achievement. She believed very strongly that it was important to live a meaningful life.” She laid out her mother’s qualities like tiny stones, presumably hoping they’d become stuck in Flora’s feet.
“So impressive.” Flora was out of adjectives. Her vocabulary wasn’t expansive enough to acknowledge Becca’s many qualities with any degree of originality. She was starting to wonder why Jack was with her. She couldn’t row her way out of a bath.
“Do you run, Flora?”
Flora wanted to run now, down the stairs, through the door and back to her underwater apartment. Instead she put the photo back carefully, placing it a safe distance from the edge. It wouldn’t do to drop Becca. “I’ve never run a marathon, but I’ve always wanted to.” She had no idea what made her say it. Pride? The desire to connect with Izzy? An insecure need to demonstrate that there was at least one thing that Becca had done that she could do, too?
Izzy’s eyes narrowed an instant before she gave a sweet smile. “That’s great. We can run together while you’re staying here. I’d love the company.”
Stupid, stupid. How had she allowed herself to be trapped? She wasn’t sure she was capable of running to the end of the street, let alone a decent distance. She’d probably drop dead, which would be a win for Izzy. It might be the only chance Flora had of winning her approval.
“I’d love that, too. Great.”
“It will be fun.”
It would be torture. “I agree.”
“Early mornings are better for me because then Dad is still in the house to watch Molly.” Izzy put the photographs back carefully. “If we leave at 5:00 a.m. we should be back by 6:30.”
“Did you say 5:00 a.m.?”
“Yes. Is that too late? You’d rather make it 4:15? Mom did that occasionally when she had a lot going on.”
Flora didn’t know why Becca had died, but she was starting to wonder if it could have been exhaustion.
“Five sounds like a good time.” She told herself it would be like doing the run to the flower market, only her reward would be blisters instead of blooms.
“Great. We’ll be back before Dad leaves for work. Does that sound like a good idea?”
It sounded like the worst idea Flora had heard in a long time, but that was what you got for allowing yourself to be intimidated by a tricky teenager and a dead woman.
Izzy flipped her smooth hair back over her shoulder. “We’ll start tomorrow. I’ll wake you at 4:45. Do you like tea in the morning?”
At that time the only thing that was likely to get her out of bed was a bucket of iced water over her head, but Flora didn’t say that. If she was doing this, then she was doing this. “I prefer to run on an empty stomach. I’ll have breakfast when we get back.”
“Yeah?” Izzy looked surprised. “My mother didn’t eat breakfast. She fasted all day and ate a small dinner in the evening. Usually just protein and vegetables.”
“Your mother was an impressive woman.” Oh for goodness sake, Flora, use a different word. Any word! “Special.”
“She was. Dad said she was the most special person he’d ever met.”
There really wasn’t an answer to that.
Flora glanced at the photos again. Apart from the one taken on Mount Kilimanjaro, they were all of Becca and her family. There was one of Becca sailing, her hair flying in the wind as she laughed up at Jack. Flora was sure that in the same situation half her hair would be in her mouth and the other half in her eyes.
Behind that there were two black-and-white photographs of Becca hugging the two girls. She was barefoot, dressed in jeans, and all Flora could think was that this was a woman who seemed to have had it all. Until she didn’t.
Life, she thought, had a sick sense of humor.
“I can move the photographs if they bother you,” Izzy said, and Flora stirred.
“They don’t bother me.”