Lucy found herself slumped against the same tree she’d slumped against the last time she’d left Colin’s. Maybe she should seriously reconsider any future visits to his home. She didn’t know how many more surprises about her mom she could handle.
She stayed there, the bark digging into her back, and thought about what Colin had just told her. She tried taking his view, that it was “no big deal.” Was he right? Was she making too much of it? But it almost felt like her mom was living a secret life or something. After her mom died, Lucy had let herself briefly live in a sort of fantasy world where her mom hadn’t really died. She was in the witness protection program. Or sometimes she was super-secret spy for the government. She had faked her own death because she had to, and she was alive and well…somewhere. Lucy had never seen a body. The casket had been closed. And who knew what was actually in that urn? Of course, Lucy knew it wasn’t true, wasn’t possible—but if it were, maybe some of this other stuff would make a bit more sense. Maybe.
Too bad her dad was travelling. She really wished she could talk to him.
Josie was hustling across the front lawn as Lucy came around the bend in the lane.
“I left you a note,” Josie said, not slowing down. “I’ve got to go help Muriel put a rinse in her hair. She’s got terrible arthritis. Don’t forget supper with Ellen.”
“We’re having supper with Ellen?” Lucy called after her.
No response.
Lucy sighed, ran up behind Josie, and touched her shoulder. “We’re having supper with Ellen?”
“Yes. Didn’t I tell you?”
Lucy shook her head.
“Hmph. Well. We’re having supper with Ellen.” And off Josie went.
Lucy made a list of things to do for the afternoon, mostly to keep her mind off other things. She wrote a letter to Sarah, touched up her toenail polish, finished the latest Harlequin she’d been reading, the one with the shirtless guy on the cover (which pretty much referred to every cover), ploughed through half a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and was working on her butterfly DoodleArt when Josie returned from Muriel’s.
“Just let me change,” Josie said, jamming her cigarette into an old tobacco can filled with sand that she kept by the front door. There was one at the back door too. And by the garage, the root cellar, and the gardening shed. “Need something a little more snazzy for a dinner out.” She gave Lucy a good once-over. “Wouldn’t kill ya to snazz yourself up a bit, either.”
Lucy smiled when she saw Kit standing at the front door. She was back in her Princess Leia outfit. Wish I’d worn a bedsheet instead of this itchy blouse. It was new, and the elastic on the puffed sleeves was a bit too tight.
“I decided to dress for dinner,” Kit explained.
“You’re not the only one,” Lucy said, gesturing over her shoulder at Josie.
“Wow. Not everyone can pull off that shade of blue eyeshadow with an orange dress.” Kit nodded approvingly. “And a matching hat, no less.”
“Don’t bother offering to take it from her,” Lucy said. “There’s about six cigarettes stuck in behind the plastic flowers.”
In the kitchen, Gordon, Kit’s dad, was standing at the stove. “Lucy! Hope you like lobster!” he boomed, dangling a giant greenish-brown crustacean over a boiling pot of water. “Fresh off the boat today!”
Lucy’s eyes widened and she sucked in her breath. It was still moving as Gordon plopped it in.
Ellen looked over at her and said, “Honey, would you like me to throw some extra knackwurst on the barbecue? That’s what Kathleen’s having.”
Lucy blinked a few times. It still caught her off guard how much Ellen reminded her of her mom. After a second, Lucy said, “Sure,” even though she didn’t have clue what knackwurst was.
Knackwurst turned out to be like super-fat hotdogs. Lucy smothered them with ketchup and Ellen’s homemade bread-and-butter pickles. The pickles must have been a family recipe; they tasted exactly like Lucy’s mom’s. It was like being reunited with an old friend.
“Good, huh?” Kit said.
Lucy didn’t know if she was referring to the knackwurst or the pickles. It didn’t matter anyway. “Delicious!” she answered with her mouth full.
“They’re from the Sausage House.”
Lucy remembered the drive up, how when she and her dad passed that place with the “Homemade Sausages” sign, she’d thought it was gross. She couldn’t have been more wrong. “Does anyone want the last one?” she asked, her fork hovering over the platter.
It didn’t take long for Lucy to figure out where Kit got her offbeat sense of humour and her passion for Star Wars. Through the whole meal, Gordon acted out scenes from the film using the cooked lobsters. When he picked up one lobster and made it say to the remaining pile of lobsters, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” Lucy laughed so hard she choked on her potato salad. By the time she finished her strawberry shortcake, her face hurt from smiling.
When it was time to go, Ellen put her arms around Lucy and gave her a tight hug. “We’ll do this again,” she promised.
“We can’t let you starve to death,” Kit joked as she slapped Lucy on the back.
“May the Force be with you!” Gordon hollered from the porch.
When they got back to Josie’s, Lucy sprawled out on the porch swing like a beached whale. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be full. She’d hoped the walk home would help. But it hadn’t. Not a bit.
She stared up at the peeling paint on the porch ceiling and smiled. She may be in pain right now, but it was worth it. Everyone around the table, the food, Gordon’s lobster skits…they all kept her from thinking about the things that were bothering her. The things about her mom.
Lucy could see the giant frown on Colin’s face even before she got to the hole. He was standing there, arms folded, like he was waiting for her.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I am? I didn’t know there was an official schedule.”
He shrugged. “I was sort of thinking you were still mad about yesterday.”
“Oh.” She sat on the edge of the hole and let her feet hang over the side. “No. I just wish you’d told me that you knew my mom.”
“I figured you knew. How was I supposed to know you didn’t?”
Lucy stared straight ahead and didn’t answer.
“And, like, how well do you know your mom’s friends, anyway?” he added.
“Couldn’t you tell how surprised I was when you said you were at the funeral?”
“No,” he said simply.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Plus you made it sound like you didn’t know why you were there. Obviously you were there because you knew her. You made it sound like you were dragged against your will.”
“I was! No offence, but funerals, even your mom’s, are not my idea of a good time.”
Lucy loudly flipped her flip-flops against her heels and didn’t say anything.
“Look,” he sighed. “Like I said the other day. Our moms were friends. She came to visit. I don’t get why you’re so cranky about it.”
She kept flipping. “Why didn’t your mom ever come to visit us?”
“I dunno. Maybe she didn’t like you guys.”
“What?”
“I’m joking.”
“Ha ha,” Lucy said, folding her arms. “Well, didn’t you think that was weird? Like, how you knew my mom, but I didn’t know yours?”
“Guess I never really thought about it.” He sat down beside her. “You know, my mom had a couple little kids at home, maybe it was just easier for your mom to visit my mom. And it’s not like we had a ton of money for travelling.”
Lucy fell quiet again, thinking. That made a bit of sense. After a minute, she said, “It’s hard to explain. You’d think being here, I’d feel closer to my mom. But I don’t. It’s the exact opposite.”
He opened his mouth, looked like he was forming a word, then clamped it shut. She wondered what he was going to say. Was he trying to think of something helpful, but couldn’t come up with anything? Suddenly, his face brightened. “I bought jujubes.”
Jujubes are helpful in their own way, I guess. “Can I have all the green?”
“Sure.” He got up and rooted for a bag he had stashed under a tree.
“Whatcha got there?” Kit said, appearing from nowhere.
Colin straightened too quickly and whacked his head on a branch. “Stop sneaking up on us!”
“I didn’t. You’re just completely unaware of what’s going on around you.”
Colin snatched up his bag of jujubes, holding them close to his chest so Kit couldn’t see. He turned his back to her and tossed the bag to Lucy. “Don’t eat any red.”
Kit craned her neck. “Oh. Jujubes. It’s okay. I don’t like them.”
“Goody for us,” Colin muttered under his breath as he jumped into the hole and picked up his shovel.
Kit dropped her beach bag onto the grass next to Lucy. “I brought my mags again.”
“Cool,” Lucy said, pulling out the stack.
Colin looked up. “Aw. Not those again.”
“Wait.” Lucy quickly thumbed through the pages of one. “I saw something last time. Here. Horoscopes. That’s not junk. When were you born?”
“October thirty-first,” he replied grumpily.
“Halloween? No way! Lucky bum!” Kit exclaimed. “What year? How old are you, anyway?”
“Nineteen sixty-one.”
“Wow. Almost sixteen,” Kit said sideways. “You’d never know it. He acts about ten.”
“Shush,” Lucy said to Kit, then called out to Colin, “Scorpio. Okay, listen to this. Your horoscope says, ‘Your popularity will increase over the next month, but don’t let it go to your head. Keep an open mind and accept advice from close friends. Also remember it is important to take breaks.’” She turned to Kit and whispered, “I made that last part up. I want to go for a swim later.”
Kit choked back a laugh. “Hey, Colin. That’s a pretty good one. At least it’s not saying there’s anything bad in your future.”
“Yup,” he said popping the p. “Made my day.”
Lucy decided to pass on Josie’s latest concoction from the Campbell’s Soup recipe book. It had canned tomatoes in it, and she hated canned tomatoes. Thankfully, Ellen had sent them home with all the leftovers. Lucy had been living on them for a couple days. Luckily there was still strawberry shortcake left. Lucy got down a big plate, built herself two giant shortcakes, and squirted on a giant mountain of whipped cream. That’s a perfectly fine supper. There’s even fruit in there, so that makes it healthy, right?
If her dad were here, he’d be having a cow about right now.
As she struggled to finish the last few bites, she began to question her choice. But then she saw Josie tear open a packet of Alka-Seltzer and knew she had chosen wisely. She was pretty full, at least. That made four nights in a row. All she wanted to do was grab a book and lie flat somewhere. Bed sounded good, even though it was only seven-thirty.
She went to the bookcase in the dining room and pulled a Harlequin out of the middle of the row. The Reluctant Bride. She was pretty sure she’d already read it—it was getting hard to keep track. Probably a good idea to choose a couple more for backup. As she set The Reluctant Bride on top of the cabinet, she accidentally knocked over a silver picture frame. Crossing her fingers, she bent to pick it up. Please let it not be broken. She inspected it for damage. All good. It was a wedding picture, black and white. The bride was wearing one of those fringy flapper dresses. Wait. Is that Josie? Lucy squinted. It is Josie. Amazing! She was beautiful. So elegant. Wait. Are those birds on her headpiece? Lucy held the frame closer to her face. Yup. Definitely birds. Her eyes moved to the bridesmaids. There were five. She was pretty sure Gran Irene was the maid of honour. The bridesmaid dresses were pretty, a shorter version of Josie’s. But the picture was in black and white, so it was hard to tell what colour they were. Knowing Josie, they were probably bright green or bubble-gum pink. Lucy was just about to put the picture back when something caught her eye. All the bridesmaids were wearing the exact same necklace, a chain with a small oval locket.
Lucy stared at the picture for a long time, her eyebrows knitted together. She traced her finger along the neckline of every bridesmaid, mentally replacing each locket with an emerald necklace. No, that can’t be it, can it?
The necklaces had been pushed to the back of Lucy’s mind. She’d done it on purpose, too worried about what the actual truth might turn out to be. It’d been fairly easy, especially as she stewed over her mom’s mysterious visits to Esther and sailing excursions with Colin.
Lucy stood the silver frame back up on top of the cabinet.
So Kit had been right after all. When you stop looking for something, that’s when you find it.