It had been Gabby’s dad’s idea to head to the family’s lake house that weekend for the Langdons’ traditional Sunday dinner. The A-frame structure with cedar siding had been in their family for years, and it was just a short ferry ride away from Angel Falls. They gathered there often in the summer to eat, swim, and fish off her dad’s small pontoon boat. In the evenings, there were fires near the lake and board games where they sat around the fireplace talking late into the night.
Some people loved the ocean, but for Gabby, nothing could compare to her time spent at the wooded retreat. Her earliest memories, from when she was seven or eight, were those of her mother, lying out on the dock while her father patiently tried to teach Gabby to fish (a lost cause, as she could never bear killing the worms). Sara usually had her nose in a book and Rafe would often try to one-up Gabby by catching as many fish as he could reel in. Evie, who was four years older than Sara and already a teenager, would be off by herself at the end of the dock having deep conversations with her best friend and loudly wishing she were away from her pesky younger siblings. One day Gabby remembered her mother setting down a dog-eared paperback, pulling her close and kissing her on the head, then reading one of Gabby’s own books to her out loud.
Gabby remembered her mother’s inflection as she read, how she always seemed to make everything more exciting, more scary, more…everything.
And years later, she remembered Rachel walking her out to this very same dock, telling her that she was so, so sorry about her mother, and how she would try her best not to replace her, but she wanted to be her friend and someone who would always have Gabby’s back.
Sara had had more difficulty accepting Rachel into the empty spot her mother had left behind, but Gabby was hungry for a mother’s love and affection, and she and Rachel had always had an understanding. But she missed the mother she barely got to know, and the very essence of her seemed bottled up in this old house.
If she stood on the dock and closed her eyes and breathed in the cool lake air, she could almost feel her mom here with them.
Tonight, rain had driven them inside, and her dad had brought out Pictionary. Everyone was playing except Evie’s kids; Michael, who was three, and Julia, five, sat with crayons and coloring books by the fire. They didn’t follow the rules perfectly, especially with Nonna tending to help both teams at random, but it was always a lot of fun.
Rachel teamed up with Evie and her husband, Joe, on one team, along with Sara and her husband, Colton.
Gabby was teamed up with Nonna, her dad, Rafe, and Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn, who owned the Bean, the coffee shop downtown, was good friends with Sara and Gabby. And lately, she’d been hanging around a lot with Rafe.
Except everyone but Rafe knew that Kaitlyn had a long-standing crush on him. Gabby’s heart hurt for both of them—Kaitlyn, silently begging to be let in; and Rafe, still so wounded from the death of his longtime girlfriend when he was twenty-one that he was too closed off to even see it.
“Who wants coffee?” Kaitlyn asked, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.
“Coffee sounds good,” Rafe said, smiling a guileless smile, “but what’s for supper?”
“Rafe, you just ate three pieces of lasagna,” Kaitlyn said.
“I thought that was an appetizer,” Rafe responded, patting his rock-hard stomach as he reclined on the couch.
“Ha ha,” Gabby said. “I know this will excite you…we have strawberry shortcake too.” She turned to her grandmother, who was sitting next to her on the couch. “We made it from scratch, didn’t we, Nonnie?”
“And the whipped cream too,” Nonna added.
“Oh, that sounds delicious,” Evie said. “I’ve been so busy getting ready for the pottery exhibition that dinner’s been hit or miss all week. The lasagna was amazing, by the way.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said. “I’m sorry things have been hectic, but I’m so excited that you’ve started making pottery again. I was wondering if I could display a few of your pieces in my shop. I think it would be fun, and it might bring you some business.” Part of the draw of Rachel’s high-end antiques store was that she often showcased the work of local artists.
“Thanks, Rach,” Evie said. “That’d be great. I’ll make a few pieces this week.”
“Evangeline,” Joe said, a concerned look on his face, “aren’t you busy enough for right now? Do you think you should just get through this exhibition before you take on more work?” Hearing Joe call Evie by her full name, accompanied by an edge in his usually very calm voice, caused Gabby to look from one to the other.
“Things have been a little hectic lately,” Evie said in a placating voice.
“Yes, they have been,” Joe said, punctuating that with a lift of his brows.
Gabby exchanged glances with Sara. Just fifteen months older than she was, Sara was her closest sibling in age and in sharing confidences. Her expression told Gabby she’d noticed the tension too. Evie had been thrilled to go back to work after some years home with the kids, but it looked like that major life change wasn’t going quite as smoothly as she had let on.
“Okay, here we go,” Rafe said. He nodded at Kaitlyn. “Katie, tip the hourglass. Everybody look up here.” He drew something quickly on a legal pad and then rotated it so everyone could see. On the paper was a stick figure holding something long and tubular that coiled like a snake to the ground.
“A hose?” Kaitlyn said with a puzzled look. “You drew a hose?”
“Is it an Italian sausage?” Nonna asked, studying it carefully. “Or private parts? It looks like private parts.” She dropped her voice and fake-whispered in Gabby’s ear, “A very long one.” Gabby bit the insides of her cheeks so she wouldn’t laugh.
“Gabby, any ideas?” her dad asked.
“Hose, sausage, private parts…what’s left?” Gabby said. “I can’t even imagine.”
“Time’s up,” Kaitlyn said, holding up the hourglass.
“Thank goodness,” Nonna said.
“Okay, so what was it?” Rachel asked.
Rafe showed the card. “Equipment.” He said it in a tone that indicated he thought someone should’ve surely figured that out.
Everyone groaned. “Equipment? What kind of equipment?” Sara asked with a fake-horrified expression on her face.
“Wait a minute. Is that your equipment?” Colton said. “If so, I think that picture’s grossly exaggerated.”
“Well, it’s certainly not yours, Colty,” Rafe said.
“Okay, boys,” Sara warned.
“Let’s do another one,” Nonna said, clapping her hands.
“Good idea,” Rachel said, picking up a card and drawing something on the legal pad.
“A mop. That’s a mop!” Joe guessed.
“Yes. Correct,” Rachel said, pointing excitedly at Joe. “Good job.”
“I’ve been using one more often now, so it’s more familiar to me,” Joe said.
“Hey, my place needs to be cleaned. Feel free to bring it over sometime,” Rafe said.
Evie narrowed her eyes at her husband. “I’m glad you finally learned what a mop is, sweetheart,” she said in an overly pleasant voice. “Next week I’ll teach you about Swiffers.”
“Okay everyone, time for dessert,” Gabby said quickly. “Kaitlyn, want to start the coffee?”
Gabby got up and began plating the shortcake, hoping that dessert would be enough to soothe whatever tensions were brewing. She and Kaitlyn served, and everyone was finally digging in to the shortcake with Nonna’s perfectly stiff whipped cream and fresh strawberries when her dad spoke. “So, honey, Sara tells me you’re taking a class at the college.”
Gabby shot Sara a murderous look, but Sara merely shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d mind that I told. We all know about Mom’s manuscript and how excited you are about her writing.”
Gabby let out a breath. It was only a matter of time before the entire family found out. “Well, actually, I’m really excited about the class,” she said. “It’s being taught by Cade Marshall, Paige’s son. He’s the one who wrote Girl on the Edge.”
“Yes, he’s one of those,” Nonna said.
“One of those what?” Gabby asked.
“You know. Someone who writes girl books.”
“What’s a ‘girl book’?” Rafe asked. “That sounds dirty.”
Kaitlyn smacked his arm. “It’s not always about sex, Rafe,” she said. She frowned at Rafe, but her eyes held that same soft look she always seemed unable to disguise in his presence.
“Sorry,” he said with a grin.
“How do you know about girl books, Nonna?” Gabby asked. Nonna had always been a fierce reader, but since her dementia diagnosis, she hadn’t been able to maintain the concentration to read a book.
“Gone Girl,” Nonna said. “I just saw the movie.”
Rachel laughed. “The Girl on the Train.”
“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” Colton said.
“‘Uptown Girl,’” Rafe said. “‘Brown Eyed Girl,’ ‘Big Girls Don’t Cry.’”
Kaitlyn rolled her eyes.
“What?” Rafe said. “Don’t songs count?
“Books, Rafe,” Kaitlyn said. “We’re talking about popular books.”
“Okay then, how about The Woman in Cabin 10?” Rafe asked.
“How do you know about that book?” Kaitlyn asked.
“I read it,” he said simply. “Randy had it at the station.”
“Nice,” Colton said, slapping him on the back. “I always knew you were literate.”
Kaitlyn looked a little surprised at Rafe’s answer, and she cracked a smile. Rafe smiled back. For a moment it seemed like those two weren’t paying much attention to anyone else in the room.
“If Cade Marshall writes bestsellers, what’s he doing teaching writing classes?” Gabby’s father asked.
“He’s a professor, Dad. I guess he teaches and writes,” Gabby said. When he wasn’t standing around being such a hottie.
Oh my gosh. Gabby startled. She didn’t say that out loud, did she?
“Honey,” her dad said, setting his dessert plate down on the coffee table, “I know you’ve been fascinated with that box of your mom’s writing that you found, but you just made partner. That class seems like a lot on top of work.”
The class meant so much more to Gabby than, as her father believed, a way of trying to understand her mom more. It was about trying to understand herself in ways she couldn’t even fully fathom. And yes, she was always looking for a connection with her mother, but she didn’t even know how to begin to put all of that into words. “Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ve got the time.”
“Well, all right, but this isn’t like flower arranging or cake decorating or any of those other things you’ve signed up for.”
Gabby tried not to wince. In her father’s eyes, she’d always be that lost kid, always searching for something more.
“Gabby’s always been a writer,” Rachel said. “I say go for it. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the one to write the next big girl book.”
As Gabby got up to take her turn, she smiled at Rachel, who really did tend to have her back. She wanted to see herself as one day writing a bestselling book. But she couldn’t help thinking that the title would be Girl Confused.
* * *
What a week, Cade thought, as he pulled up to the babysitter’s house at three the next Friday to fetch Ava. As soon as he opened the door to the small yellow ranch, which was sticky with fingerprints, his father’s intuition prickled at the back of his neck.
Despite Mrs. Arcadian, the babysitter, being recommended by one of his colleagues, he was less than thrilled with the arrangement, because chaos seemed to run rampant whenever he dropped by. Ava had been unhappy this whole first week, despite all his encouragement that a brand-new day care would be wonderful once she got used to it.
Ava was a resilient child. She’d adapted surprisingly well to her mother leaving when she was one. Emerson tended to flit in and out of her life at random, something that gave Cade ulcers and which he would never be able to understand.
He’d seen a counselor regularly since the divorce to help him keep his own head straight and be able to say and do the right things for Ava. He wanted to make sure Ava understood that he would always, always be there for her. Despite her mother’s capriciousness, Ava was a happy, sweet, loving child, and Cade would do anything in his power to keep her that way.
Cade realized that he himself was a worrier about practically everything as far as his daughter was concerned and constantly reminded himself to relax, to not demand perfection. But Mrs. Arcadian was a bit too laid-back as far as supervision went and appeared, even in his limited interactions with her, to be too strict with other matters. She didn’t seem to have time to really work with Ava on things like being kind, apologizing, and saying thank you. Plus, he couldn’t stand the sticky doors.
He missed their old babysitter, Mrs. Clapstone, a saintly woman with snow-white hair who used to wash and iron the altar cloths at her church every week. She’d been the closest thing to an honest-to-goodness grandma Ava had had in Michigan, where they’d lived before returning to Angel Falls. Mrs. Clapstone had been a stable influence at a very unstable time. Hell, he’d offered to relocate the woman, but she had her own grandkids and wouldn’t dream of it.
Being a single dad was terrifying at times, but he was getting better at it. He could make mac and cheese with his eyes closed, and while his braiding technique pretty much sucked, it was passable. Enough.
“That boy bit me!” Ava said, running to the front door and twining herself around his leg, pointing an accusing finger at a tow-headed boy with innocent blue eyes whom he recognized as his colleague Paula’s son. The room was noisy with the sounds of a baby crying. An infant, surely less than a year old, was crawling across the carpet, a trail of bright green snot snaking under his nose. Two toddler boys were pushing one another. Mrs. Arcadian, a stout woman of around forty, ran after the baby and scooped him up, balancing him on her hip, as she ran after the biter in question, who had bolted behind the couch. The baby, who was facing outward, coughed in Cade’s direction. Instinctively, he nudged Ava behind his knee, out of the line of fire.
“Hi, Mrs. Arcadian,” he said to the visibly frazzled woman.
She barely managed a nod. “Brayden, did you bite Ava?” the woman asked. To her credit, she sounded appalled.
“No!” Brayden said emphatically. “I did not bite her.”
“Yes, he did, Daddy,” Ava said, patting Cade on the thigh. “But don’t worry, I bited him right back.”
Cade felt his face flame. As she bent to lift up Ava’s pants leg, he saw the round imprint of a mouth with tiny pinpricks, the outlines of sharp teeth, sunk into his daughter’s tiny calf.
Oh, shit. It certainly didn’t look like a life-threatening injury, but what did he know? Didn’t bites get infected? He remembered seeing a picture of a horrible, red, swollen limb in freshman biology, which caused him to know beyond a doubt he wasn’t cut out for medicine, as his sister was. Or maybe there was cause to worry about whatever germs Brayden had just inoculated into Ava’s bloodstream? Regardless, it was an automatic doctor’s visit. Something else he’d have to squeeze into his already over-packed to-do list today. There were not enough hours.
At the same time, Brayden held out his arm. Similar marks were visible on his forearm.
Ava was not lying. She’d sunk her teeth right into Brayden too. Should Cade be proud of that? Because he was, a little. That was the thing about being a parent. It made you cross moral boundaries you’d never think of crossing before.
“These kids are biting each other, and no one noticed?” Cade worked hard to control his tone—and his temper.
“Well, I am short on help today, Professor. And sometimes it’s good for the children to work out their own battles, you know what I mean?”
Cade sighed. Biting, strike one. What she’d just said, strike two. Please, God, he prayed. Don’t let there be a strike three. He really needed this day care to work out. He understood it wasn’t perfect but he had no good alternatives. “No, I don’t know what you mean. Biting is…harmful.” He stooped down to the kids’ level. “Brayden and Ava, we never bite anyone. Biting is mean and can hurt people.”
“I can punish them both tomorrow,” Mrs. Arcadian said. She wagged a finger at the children. “No snacks for you two tomorrow.”
Oh, hell. Strike three. Caden stood. “Mrs. Arcadian, it’s—it’s just wrong to withhold snacks from children. Ava won’t be back tomorrow. And I work with Brayden’s mom. Rest assured I’ll be talking about this with her as well.”
He rubbed Brayden on the head. The boy looked as if he were about to cry. “It’s okay, buddy. We all make mistakes.” He was about to turn to his daughter and tell her to say she was sorry when she bolted out from behind his leg and hugged Brayden tightly. “It’s okay, Bwayden. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me and I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She looked up with enormous blue eyes that reminded him of…himself. Where she’d acquired the compassion he saw there was anyone’s guess.
“There, Daddy, see? All better now. Let’s go home now, ’kay?”
“It’s all better now,” Mrs. Arcadian echoed. “You come back tomorrow, Professor, all right? Everything’s fine. The kids worked it out.”
God, he needed to say yes. Say yes, he commanded himself. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Arcadian.” Looking from the tearful little boy to the frowning babysitter, he scooped Ava up, opened the sticky door, and left.
He had no babysitter and three classes to teach tomorrow. And no clue where he would even find another one, let alone find one fast.