A light kiss brushed over Claire’s forehead, and she opened her eyes to see her grandmother hovering over her with a gentle smile. “Grandma.” She sat up and brushed her hair out of her face. “Where did you come from?”
“Your mother called us and told us what happened. I couldn’t stay home.”
Nearly eighty, her grandmother was still beautiful to Claire in spite of her wrinkles. Her dark hair and hazel eyes glowed in her olive skin. In her day, she’d been drop-dead gorgeous, and Grandpa had swooped her up when she was nineteen and he was twenty-two. Claire nestled into her grandmother’s embrace and soaked in the unconditional love. Tabu, the perfume her grandmother had worn as long as Claire could remember, was just a faint scent this late in the day.
Her grandmother smoothed Claire’s hair. “Are you okay? You’re very pale.”
“I’m fine, Grandma.”
“I am going to see the sheriff tomorrow. He must find that man at once.”
No one was ever able to resist Emily Cramer’s determination. Claire pitied the sheriff for a brief moment. Her grandmother would roll into that office like an implacable machine and demand results. She was richer than Croesus, but her main power over people was the way she loved them. No one wanted to see the light in her hazel eyes dim.
Claire pulled away from the embrace and swung her legs off the bed. “The sheriff will find him. In the meantime, I’ll stay close to other people.”
Her grandmother rose and smoothed her blue dress. She’d taught Claire the art of a perfect French roll, and not a hair on her head was out of place. She’d never adopted the bare-leg rage and always wore hosiery and pumps. But in spite of her care about her appearance, she was the most genuine person Claire had ever met.
Claire rose and began to roll up her hair. “What time is it?”
“After nine. I intended to come up the moment I heard what happened to you, but your grandfather insisted I finish dinner. You know how he can be. And your mother said you were resting. Neither of them would give me a key to your room, so I had to cajole one of the hotel employees.” Her grandmother caught her hand. “Leave your hair down, honey. Get your pajamas on and climb right back into bed. If your mother comes in and finds I’ve disturbed your rest, I’ll be in hot water.”
Claire smiled. “You wouldn’t be there for long. No one can stay mad at you.”
She did as her grandmother suggested and let go of her hair, then raked her fingers through it. Her slacks and top were wrinkled from sleeping in them, and she went to the dresser and pulled out pink silk pajamas, wincing at the movement.
“It hurts to move?” At Claire’s nod, her grandmother came to help her.
Claire let her grandma assist her in the dim light, and two minutes later she climbed under the sweet-smelling sheets. Her grandmother always made her feel treasured. Being with her was like catching a whiff of heaven.
Grandma pulled up a chair beside the bed and plumped the pillows before having Claire lean back. “I know everything that’s been happening, Claire. I told Lisa all along she should have been honest with you about what happened here, but your father was adamant about keeping it mum. Your mother is entirely too easygoing with him.”
Her mother had always been content to let her husband handle the messy details of life while she put her hands over her eyes. For a strong woman like Claire’s grandmother, having such a weak daughter was probably a trial.
“What can you tell me, Grandma? Did I say anything after I was found that might tell you where I had been all that time?”
Her grandmother blinked and looked away. “Some of this needs to come from your father, child. One thing I can tell you is that I’ve loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”
A strange response. Claire stared into that beloved older face with its wise eyes and loving mouth. “I know that, Grandma. I’ve never doubted how much you love me. But about that missing year . . .”
Her grandmother leaned forward to brush another kiss across Claire’s cheek. “Rest now, honey. I told Harry this day would come, but he didn’t believe me.” Her lips trembled. “I fear the repercussions now.” She took hold of Claire’s shoulders and looked into her face. “Promise me you won’t ever forget how much you’re loved.”
Though she didn’t understand her grandmother’s intensity, Claire nodded. “I promise.”
Claire watched in puzzlement as her grandmother rose and rushed for the door. What kind of repercussions?
Kate smiled as she watched her mother take in the closet transformation in the light of the overhead lamp. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt with her light-brown hair caught back in a ponytail, Mary Mason looked closer to forty-five than her fifty-five years old. Her flawless skin needed no makeup, and as far as Kate knew, she’d never even dyed her hair. She had that elusiveness so many men found attractive, but that standoffishness sometimes made Kate feel as if she were an afterthought. Or a duty, like a dog needing to be fed twice a day.
Maybe that was why Kate tried so hard. Just like this closet redo. Someday she would do something that would make her mom rush to embrace her and tell her she loved her. Those three words had seldom come out of her mother’s mouth.
Her mother’s smile was radiant. “Kate, it’s just beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it, Mom.” No hug. Kate had been silly to hope for one.
Her mother turned to her brother, Paul, who looked on with an indulgent smile. “And you were in on this?”
Kate had always adored Uncle Paul. Ten years younger than Mom, he’d been like an older brother or a young father to her. He was her island to stand on in the middle of a raging ocean. When Mom got the blueberry barrens, he’d sold most of his lobster pots and taken the reins of the business. He learned everything there was to know about the wild bushes, and Mason Blueberries flourished. He’d never married, though his dark good looks attracted plenty of female attention. Kate had seldom seen him without a girlfriend, though he changed them nearly every season.
He straightened his tall, rangy form and grinned at his sister. “Now you know why I didn’t hurry you in the yarn store. I wanted to give Katie time to work her magic.”
“Well, it’s a lovely surprise for my birthday. And do I smell German chocolate cake?”
Kate nodded. “Yep, Shelley made it. She had papers to grade tonight but said to give you her best wishes.”
Her uncle turned toward the door. “And I have several pounds of fresh lobster all ready to go. I’ll get them started in the kitchen.”
Her mother smiled at him. “No wonder you turned down my offer to buy dinner.”
Kate waited until her uncle’s heavy footsteps faded and she heard the squeak of the aging refrigerator door. “Mom, I need to talk to you about something.”
Her mother closed the door to the closet. “Yes?”
Kate refused to let her cool tone put her off. “I’ve been thinking about Dad. Have you heard anything from him at all?”
Her mother’s eyes widened before they shuttered back to their usual placid green. “No, and I don’t expect to. He is out of our lives, Katie. You know that.”
“D-Does he even know I’ve been sick?”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t need to know. He made it quite clear he wants nothing to with either of us.”
“He’s my father. What if he’s a good donor match?”
Her mother moved toward the door, her movements brisk, as if she could erase their entire conversation. “You’re doing fine. Just look at all you’ve done today—all this work! You’re in perfect health.”
The fatigue that hovered close seemed to settle in a heavy weight on Kate’s shoulders. She wasn’t about to show it to her mother, though. The lobster waiting in the kitchen would help. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Her mother paused in the doorway and looked back at her. “Besides, haven’t we been getting along just great without him all these years?”
Kate gave a jerky nod. “I was just thinking about him. He was always so much fun.”
Her mother whirled to face her. Bright spots of hectic color spotted her cheeks, and her eyes burned. “And was it fun when we saw him in town that day?”
Kate’s eyes filled. “No.”
She’d been twelve, and it was the last time she’d seen her father. They’d gone to a blueberry festival in Bar Harbor. She spotted him across the street and shouted, “Dad!” before starting to run to him. He took one look in her direction before all the color drained from his face and then he dashed into a liquor store. Her mother had caught her arm or she might have followed him inside.
The humiliation still made her face burn.
“I didn’t think so either. That’s when I knew we couldn’t go on the way we had. None of us.”
“Why did you do it, Mom? Why did you let him treat us like that? You deserved better. So did I.”
Her mother’s hands curled into fists. “I loved him. I thought someday he’d change. That someday he’d leave his wife for me. But that never happened.”
This was the most honest conversation she’d had with her mother in her entire life. Most of the time Mom brushed off questions like an annoying bee. Kate craved more.
“Maybe he has changed. I can find out where he lives.”
Her mother’s eyes went wide, and she reached out a hand toward Kate. “You can’t contact him! Promise me, Katie. Never, never go near him.”
Kate backed away. “I don’t think I can make that promise, Mom. I want to at least see him. Even if it’s from a distance.”
Her mother shook her head with so much vehemence that her ponytail loosened. “I forbid it!”
“I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m not a child.”
Her mother grabbed her arm. “Then stop acting like one! That man doesn’t want anything to do with you. What happens if you waltz in and introduce yourself? You think he will welcome you with open arms? His wife will take one look at you and call security.”
Kate winced when her mother’s nails bit into her skin. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mom, but all I can promise is I’ll think about it.” She gently disengaged her mother’s grip. “Let’s go eat dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her mother shoved her through the doorway, then slammed the door shut behind her. The lock clicked.
Sobbing came from the other side of the closed door. Kate rapped on it. “Mom?”
A distant slam told her that Mom had gone into her bathroom and shut the door. There would be no talking to her tonight.
Her uncle appeared in the hall. “What’s going on? I heard yelling.”
“I messed up, Uncle Paul.”
He draped his arm over her shoulders. “Your mom will get over it. The lobster’s ready. You need to eat something.”
She let him guide her toward the delicious aroma of butter and lobster, but she wasn’t hungry any longer.