CHAPTER NINE

They had redecorated the country club since the last time Laura was here. Everything was hunter green and gold now, even the plaid carpet. Vintage framed golf cartoons marched in neat rows above the fireplace. Silk flowers in tall vases stood on the tables, which were covered in cream tablecloths edged in gold embroidery. It was the sort of setting that made you worry about getting lipstick on your teeth.

Laura chose the cheapest chicken dish on the menu and a single glass of cava, the only wine under twelve dollars a glass, and smiled at the elderly waiter to show that she appreciated his efforts. Jake ordered soup and salad, no wine at all.

Sandra and her husband, Wayne, must not have eaten all day: they ordered appetizers and prime rib entrées with three sides, accompanied by a bread basket and two bottles of expensive Bordeaux. Now they were having dessert and VSOP cognac. When Laura did the math in her head, she could hardly breathe: five hundred dollars on dinner, at least. She hoped they wouldn’t suggest splitting the bill.

“You two eat like birds!” Sandra exclaimed when Laura and Jake passed on dessert. “I exercise like a madwoman all week so I can have dessert on Friday nights. I love the club’s molten lava cake, don’t I, hon?”

She patted her flat belly, wrapped tightly into an emerald green dress. Both the aging waiter and Jake seemed to be having a tough time keeping their eyes averted from the snowy pillows of Sandra’s breasts plumped above the dress’s deep neckline.

“My sweetie loves her sweets,” Wayne agreed, leaning back in his chair to swirl the amber liquid in his balloon snifter.

Wayne wasn’t nearly as handsome as Jake. His face was cratered with acne scars and he was overweight, his stomach visibly distending his shirt beneath the blue blazer. He had a heavy South Boston accent and the manners of a ten-year-old boy on a camping trip. He had slurped his soup; eaten his salad with his large fork; and carved his steak like he was butchering the cow, sawing in the wrong direction with his knife until Laura had to look away.

Yet he was a likable man. Wayne seemed to know everyone’s name. He had warmly greeted the host, the servers, even the water boy. The wine steward seemed to be a particularly close personal friend. Wayne asked about the man’s wife and recommended a mechanic when the steward mentioned his Volkswagen was giving him trouble.

During dinner, Sandra raved about the magical effects of horseback riding on Melanie’s confidence, then asked about Kennedy’s favorite teachers and hobbies. There were also Sandra’s sons to discuss in detail: sports every season, nothing but trouble in school; they’d have to get into college on hockey or football rather than grades.

Wayne, who’d earned a football scholarship to Boston College, shrugged this off. “What are you gonna do? Boys should be raised on the streets and in the woods. The actual real world! That’s where you get yourself a real education! Ain’t that right, Jake, my man?”

Jake cleared his throat. “Absolutely. Nothing like the great outdoors. I keep trying to convince my girls to camp with me, but they’ll have none of it.”

“Yeah, well. They don’t get to bring their blow-dryers and mascara, it ain’t a real vacation,” Wayne said, patting Sandra’s thigh with obvious affection.

Sandra giggled. Laura smiled with her lips pressed shut.

When Wayne steered the conversation toward work, Laura was pleased to have something to contribute. She talked about the riding stables and her decision to build an indoor riding arena last year while Sandra chewed silently. Then Laura was annoyed with herself for being petty and competitive.

She was relieved when Sandra chimed in about her volunteer work, clearly proud of her efforts to make the school a better place. Sandra told them she’d written a grant to fund a new science lab, “possibly the only middle school science lab in our area,” she added.

Throughout dinner, Wayne expressed his adoration for his wife verbally and physically. At one point, he draped a beefy arm around Sandra’s shoulders to give her a proprietary squeeze. Another time, he leaned over to nuzzle her neck like they were teenagers on a hot date that would end in the backseat of a car. Laura was amused, if a little repulsed, by these ridiculous, lusty public displays.

Still, as they left the restaurant, Sandra giggling and leaning on Wayne, Laura found herself wishing that Jake would at least hold her hand. They’d had a date. It was Friday night. They were out on the town.

Jake was silent beside her, probably calculating the damage this dinner had cost them. (Wayne had suggested splitting the five-hundred-and-twenty-dollar bill in half and Jake had complied without argument. Yet another charge on the credit card they never seemed to pay off.)

Laura sighed. She didn’t want to think about money. It was a beautiful fall night, the moon nearly full and very bright above the meticulously groomed golf course, Venus a bright sequin beneath it. She wanted to make the most of their rare time alone together.

The parking lot was nearly deserted after Wayne drove away, waving from the window of his Range Rover. Laura became aware of the wind humming through the tall pines lining the club’s long driveway. The stars were out, a full display of constellations that reminded Laura of the app Tom had encouraged her to download for her phone. She took her phone out and aimed it at the sky as Jake unlocked the car.

“Trying to get a signal?” Jake asked.

“No. I’m using a sky map,” she said. “Come look.”

Jake moved around the hood of the car to peer at her phone. “Pretty neat. Who showed you that? Kennedy?”

“I think so,” she lied. “Can’t remember. Look, we’re facing south. Here’s Capricornus and Sagittarius.”

“Nice,” Jake said. “Let’s go, honey. I’m beat and you’re shivering.”

She was shivering, but not from the cold. She was upset, now that she didn’t have to smile and pretend she was enjoying herself. Low moods always made her feel like she was coming down with the flu.

Loss. That’s what she was feeling: Laura wanted to take a picture of the night sky and Snapchat it to Tom, but of course she couldn’t. That was all over now.

As it should be.

“Did you notice how Wayne couldn’t keep his hands off Sandra?” Laura said. She glanced at Jake, wondering if he’d felt any of the same envy she had. “Though I guess any guy would want to grope her. Sandra’s dress didn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Right. Kind of a cheap display.” Jake started the engine and backed carefully out of the parking space despite the empty lot. “She seems nice, though. I hope our girls will be friends.”

Jake’s response was predictable. He’d never been the sort of man who approved of women in revealing clothing. He had once told Laura to blame his prudishness on his “inner Puritan” when she surprised him at his office for their tenth wedding anniversary wearing a skintight red strapless cocktail dress over nothing at all. He’d actually laughed when she took off her coat and crossed the office to rub against him in her red dress. She had cried then, which of course made him feel terrible.

“It isn’t that you don’t look good,” he had explained earnestly. “You look amazing. But I would feel awkward, taking you to dinner looking like this. Like I’d have to defend your honor because every man would undress you with his eyes.”

“But you’re the only one I want to have undress me!” she’d wailed.

At that, Jake had closed the office door and locked it. Then he’d slowly, tenderly peeled the dress off Laura’s shoulders and made love to her on his desk, leaving her breathless and satisfied, yet ashamed, too, because she’d manipulated him into making love.

“Honey? What do you think?” Jake glanced at her.

“About what?”

“About Melanie and Kennedy being friends. That would be nice. Kennedy doesn’t seem to bring anyone to the house anymore.”

“I doubt that’s going to happen,” she said. “Kennedy thinks Melanie’s a bitch.”

“She actually called her that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow.” Jake laughed. “Our little girl’s growing up.”

“Faster than I’d like. I hope she and Elly found enough to do tonight.”

“I’m sure they did.”

He sounded distracted; Laura could tell from his tone that he’d lost interest in the conversation. “Jake, are we okay? You seemed really distant tonight.”

“You mean because I wasn’t pawing at you, like Wayne was all over Sandra?” Jake sounded irritated now. “Of course we’re okay. I mean, I’m tired tonight. It’s the end of a long week. But I had fun until Wayne suggested splitting the bill down the middle. That hardly seemed fair.”

“Can we for once forget about money? Stop trying to derail the conversation.”

“Am I? Sorry.”

Laura sighed. “You are. But never mind. I’m too tired to deal with it anyway.”

“To deal with what?”

“With trying to examine our lives!” she said. “With asking myself where we’re going. Whether we’re happy. Maybe it’s because I’m forty, but I’ve been asking myself those questions a lot lately. Haven’t you?”

“No. I’ve been too busy worrying about other things. You know, like how the hell we’re going to pay down the credit card and make our bills next month.” He glanced at her. “Sorry. Money again, I know. Off-limits.” Jake sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I feel bad that our date didn’t cheer you up. At least we tried. We should definitely socialize more often.”

Laura smiled. “Because we’re having so much fun, you mean?”

He laughed. They had reached the house. Jake parked the car and reached over to pat her knee. “Because you’re wonderful and deserve to have fun every day. By the way, have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”

“Yes. Several times. You can stop now. Anyway, Sandra was the gorgeous one.”

“Okay, it’s my turn to tell you to stop,” Jake said. “You look classy and beautiful. I would never want you to dress like Sandra. She tries too hard. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’d be lost without you. You’re my guiding light, Laura. You make me always want to be a better man. I hope you know how much I love you.”

“I do. But thanks for saying it.”

Jake came around to her side of the car and opened the door for her as he always did, offering his hand. Laura took it. They held hands up the brick walkway leading to the house.

She glanced up at Jake’s handsome profile and smiled. It had been a good night. At least they were talking openly now. That was more than they usually had time and energy for at the end of every busy day.

And Jake loved her. She knew he did.

•   •   •

Anne was drifting off to sleep when there was another knock on her door. She squinted at the clock. Elly and Kennedy had left more than half an hour ago. Who would want to visit her at nine o’clock?

Laura! She probably came home and found out that Elly had brought Kennedy over here. Anne pulled a pillow over her head. Maybe if she didn’t turn on a light, Laura would give up and leave.

The knocking continued. Finally, Anne sighed and sat up to peer out the bedroom window.

She was shocked to see her mother standing beneath the porch light, a slight figure hunched into the shawl collar of a long coat. Her gray hair gleamed silver in the bright light.

Her mother had stopped by the cottage only once so far, to hand Anne an envelope of money for tending bar. On that visit, Sarah had stayed for just a few minutes and stared at the furniture as if it might be covered in thorns. Then she’d surprised Anne by scooping Lucy into her arms when the baby started fussing.

Sarah had rocked in place from side to side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while holding Lucy and whispering about what they could see out the window: a pair of cormorants, a distant fishing vessel gleaming bright red against the blue sky. The baby had calmed down at once.

As soon as Lucy was quiet, Sarah had handed her back to Anne and left the cottage.

What could her mother possibly want now?

Anne climbed out of bed, anxiety making her forehead feel covered in spiderwebs. Her rib was better now—she hadn’t broken it, as an X-ray proved when Sebastian had insisted on driving her to the hospital the day after her fall to be checked—but she moved carefully out of habit as she pulled on a flannel shirt over her T-shirt and slipped into a pair of black yoga pants borrowed from Flossie.

She silently felt her way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her before turning on the living room table lamp. The last thing she needed was for her mother to wake Lucy.

Anne opened the door and shivered in the rush of damp salty air. Sarah was wrapped in a calf-length mink coat. She’d never paid any attention to animal rights campaigns. Once, when Anne was in college and going through a vegan phase, she’d complained about her mother’s furs.

“Aren’t I an animal, too?” Sarah had demanded in response. “If a lion could eat me or wear my skin and stay warm in a New England winter, I’m sure he would do it. I’m just lucky to be the real queen of the jungle.”

“Goodness,” Sarah said now. “You look like you were asleep. Were you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not even ten o’clock!” She peered around Elly’s shoulder. “Where’s that baby?”

“She’s sleeping, too, Mom.”

“Well.” Sarah looked distressed, her face cratered in shadows. “I thought I should come by with her baby gift. I meant to bring it sooner, you know. But I suppose Lucy can open it tomorrow. Just make sure she knows it’s from me.”

Like Lucy would know the difference, Anne thought as her mother thrust a heavy box wrapped in flowered paper into her hands. Like she’d even be able to open this. Besides, the baby would probably be more interested in the wrapping paper than in whatever was inside the box. But she smiled and nodded. At least her mother was making a token gesture of acceptance.

“Thanks, Mom. Do you want to come in for a minute?” she added with a yawn.

“No, no. I don’t want to bother you,” Sarah said, but stood there until Anne repeated the invitation.

Her mother nodded then. “Well, if you insist.” She stepped into the room, shrugging the mink coat off her shoulders as if a butler were waiting to take it from her.

Anne scooped up the coat before it hit the floor and draped it over a chair. She wasn’t a vegan anymore, or even a vegetarian—pregnancy had caused her to crave meat—but she still hated the idea of fur coats. Even so, she had to admit this one was beautiful, a velvety buff color with darker stripes.

“It feels heavy. What is it?” Anne set the gift down on the narrow kitchen counter.

Her mother waved a hand. “A silver cup, bowl, and spoon. Every baby should have an heirloom set. You had one. I still have it in my hutch. I’ll give it to you when you’re settled somewhere more permanent.”

Anne smiled. “That would be great. Thanks for the gift, Mom. That was nice of you.” A set of silver baby dishes must have cost her mother several hundred dollars. What had prompted her to buy it?

“So where does the child sleep?” Sarah asked, looking around. “With you?”

“Yes. I brought a portable crib.”

“Where is she? I’d like to see my granddaughter.”

Anne gestured with her chin toward the bedroom. “She’s sleeping, Mom. It’s not a good time.”

“I know how to be quiet. For heaven’s sake, Anne! You act like I’ve never been around a baby!” Sarah crossed the room on high heels that sounded like gunshots on the wood floors.

“Can you at least tiptoe?” Anne whispered, following her mother. “I just put her down a little while ago. She’s not a great sleeper.”

“Serves you right. You never slept, either.”

Anne stood in the doorway and watched as Sarah bent over the portable crib, close enough that her exhaled breath ruffled Lucy’s curls. Lucy slept on, oblivious, in her usual humpbacked pose.

“I always put her on her back, like the doctor said to, but she just flips over,” Anne whispered.

“She’s as stubborn as you are,” Sarah whispered back. “I remember you sleeping in that exact turtle position. What am I smelling? Garlic?”

“Probably. I made pesto for lunch.”

“Sounds like work. Did you have company?”

Her mother had probably seen the dishes in the drainer. “Yes. Hattie and her family,” Anne said, suddenly defensive. She didn’t want her mother to know that Sebastian had been here, too, or that he stopped by every day.

It had been eight days since her fall, but Sebastian still brought her food sometimes. Wine, too, despite the fact that she had ordered him to stop worrying about her. To prove she was fine, and to thank him for looking after her, she’d invited him to lunch today. To make things less awkward, she’d also invited Hattie—now back from her sister’s wedding—as well as Hattie’s husband and four children. They’d all hit it off, talking about books, politics, and the occasional movie, though Anne and Sebastian hadn’t seen any movies recently.

At one point, Sebastian said, “We need to get out more,” making Anne laugh and point to the baby. “I’m hardly in a position to go to the movies,” she’d said, though she’d felt a little thrill at the word “we.”

Not that Sebastian had meant anything by it. He avoided touching her and seldom looked her in the eye. He was always busy fixing things in the cottage: a loose baseboard, a lamp that didn’t work, a cupboard with a missing hinge.

Sarah was saying something so odd that it made Anne wonder whether she’d misheard. “Mom, what did you just say?” she asked.

“That I shouldn’t have had so many children. Seeing Lucy makes me remember how overwhelmed I was when you were born. But your father always wanted one more. Even after you, he wanted more. So stubborn!”

“Which of us wouldn’t you have had, if you could turn back the clock?” Anne teased.

Her mother frowned. “You, I suppose.”

Anne felt like someone had punched her in the throat. She went to the couch and sat down. “Gee, thanks.”

Her mother followed and perched on the other end of the couch, where Elly had been sitting earlier tonight. Both Sarah and Elly were built like greyhounds. Their faces were all sharp angles, their hair was gold and straight, and they had broad mouths and tidy ears. They were elegant, royal-looking women. The difference was that Elly was quick to smile and laugh, while Sarah was always the first to judge.

“You look upset,” Sarah said. “I’m sorry. But you did ask.”

“I did,” Anne said.

“I’m not saying I don’t love you.”

“Right. I know, Mom. It’s fine.” Anne wondered what she could do to make her mother leave.

“You’re not listening to me.” Sarah reached over to take one of Anne’s hands.

“I am listening, Mom.” Anne removed her hand and made a show of fiddling with the hairband on the table, slipping it onto her head and smoothing her hair behind her ears. “I’m just not sure I want to hear anything you have to say.”

“I never hated you.”

“Oh. I feel so much better now!”

Sarah waved a hand impatiently. “This is coming out all wrong. I need to tell you this in my own way. Stop asking questions.”

“I only asked one.”

Sarah took a deep breath, then said, “Look. The truth is, I married your father because I was dizzy with love. I gave up my singing career for him because Neil wasn’t like any man I’d ever met. He was smart and funny and good-looking. He swept me off my feet.”

How odd, Anne thought, that when Elly had been sitting there, she had talked about how crazy she’d felt about Hans. Maybe this was the genetic curse of all Bradford women: they ripped their hearts out of their chests and handed them over to men, trusting them to care for them. Hadn’t she done the same with Colin? And Laura with Jake?

Anne closed her eyes briefly, trying to picture her father’s face. She couldn’t. But she could feel the scratch of his stubble on her cheek as he bent down to kiss her good night and sometimes heard his deep, rumbling voice in her head. Night-night, Anna Banana. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

“Your father and I had a wonderful honeymoon in Florida, and then we came back to the inn and started working so hard that we waited five years to have Laura,” Sarah was saying. “That was still an incredible time for us. Your father was devoted to Laura. Well, she was just like him. Athletic and so smart.” She smiled. “Once, Neil thanked me for giving him the son he always wanted.”

Anne felt a prickle of sympathy for Laura, having to live up to that. No wonder she’d spent all her time in horse barns.

“Then Elizabeth came along two years later,” her mother continued. “By then things were even more difficult. We thought we might be all right after Grandpa Bradford died, but his unfortunate habits left your father and me even deeper in dept.”

“Grandpa’s gambling, you mean.”

If her mother was surprised that Anne would come right out and say this, she didn’t show it. “Yes. That man loved betting on anything: the horses at Suffolk Downs. The dogs at Wonderland. Poker. Your father wanted to sell Folly Cove to cover Grandpa’s debts, but I wouldn’t allow it. I just dug in. Luckily, Elizabeth was easy. Always happy. And so pretty.” Her mother smiled. “Talented, too. The best singer of you all. So much like me!”

“And so modest, like you?”

Her mother didn’t seem to hear this. “Even with our money troubles, Neil and I were still so in love. We had our family. He had his daughter and I had mine. I thought we should stop there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I meant to.” Sarah pursed her lips at Anne. “However, like you, I didn’t take the necessary precautions to prevent an accident.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the bedroom. “I wanted to get my tubes tied, but of course that would have been expensive. A major surgery. And your father refused to have a vasectomy. Like most men, he’s a medical coward.”

“Mom!” Anne held up a hand to stop her. “It doesn’t seem right for you to say things about Dad when he’s not here to defend himself. And please don’t call Lucy an ‘accident.’ She’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life!”

“I’m only stating facts. Anyway, between you being such an active baby and how hard I was struggling to keep the inn going, I was exhausted. Flossie had to step in to help. Your aunt adored you. At the time I was glad. Now I don’t know.”

Anne was confused. Why was her mother telling her all this? Sarah was usually of the pressed-lips Yankee School of Communication. What had caused these confessional floodgates to open?

“What do you mean, you don’t know if you’re glad that Flossie adored me?” At least somebody did, Anne thought.

Sarah cocked her head at Anne. “The thing is, I never really felt like you were mine. You belonged to everyone but me: to your father, your aunt, your sisters. And then, well.” She shrugged. “Your father started drinking a few years later and running around, so I kicked him out. That left it up to me to provide for this family. To keep everything going. Luckily, by then Laura was old enough to watch you whenever Flossie couldn’t. You never needed me.”

“Of course I did! You were still my mom,” Anne said, her throat tight with resentment.

“I still am your mother!” Sarah said. “That’s why I’ve decided to give you a gift, too.”

“I don’t need any gifts.”

“Yes, you do. I want you to move out of this dingy cottage.”

Anne laughed, startled. “And do what? Move in with you?”

“No, no. Of course not. I love you, but I’ve already told you I can’t have a baby disrupting my routines. I’m too old for that. Sixty-five next month! Can you believe it? Of course, my friends say I hardly look older than you girls.” Sarah smiled, no doubt hearing these imaginary friends. “Anyway, I found you the most darling little apartment. With an ocean view! That’s my gift to you.”

“I already have an ocean view.” Anne pointed to the porch.

“Yes, but you can’t stay here forever. It’s going to be winter soon. These walls aren’t insulated. Think of the baby.” Her mother reached into the pocket of her blazer, pulled out a folded sheet of newspaper, and handed it to Anne.

It was a classified ad for an apartment in Rockport: ground floor, water view, small yard, near the train station. For an astonishing amount of money. Anne handed the paper back. “This looks nice, but I can’t afford it.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll pay your rent.”

“Why would you do that? Flossie’s letting me live here for free. Is it because you’re ashamed of me? You can’t stand having your wayward daughter on the property?”

“Why would you say that? Of course not!”

“I don’t know, Mom. You made it pretty clear that I should tell people I’m getting divorced.”

Sarah waved a hand. “That doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of you. Only protecting your reputation.”

“And the family’s,” Anne added.

“Of course.”

“Well, either way, I can’t take your money.”

“Why not? I give your sisters money.”

“You do?” This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.

“Of course. Who do you think helped Laura buy the stables and that house they’re in? I pay for Kennedy’s tuition, too. And I’ve been giving Elizabeth a little stipend to help her get established in her singing career.”

What singing career? Anne nearly said, but that was beside the point. “Why would you give Laura money? She has a business. So does her husband.”

Sarah shrugged. “Yes, but somehow they’re still struggling. She asks me for help every now and then. I’m happy to do what I can.”

Anne couldn’t believe this. How could Laura bear to put her hand out for their mother’s money? “What about Elly? Does she ask for help, too?”

Her mother shook her head. “I offered. I know what it’s like to be a struggling artist.”

And yet Sarah hadn’t offered Anne a dime. She felt a coil of anger, hot in her belly.

Not that she would have taken her mother’s money.

Sarah was explaining how she was prepared to give Anne first and last months’ rent and a security deposit. “After that, I’ll pay your rent for one year. By then you should be on your feet.”

“But why, Mom?” Anne said. “I still don’t understand. Why do you want me to move out, when I’m perfectly fine here? Anyway, I won’t take your money.”

Her mother laughed a bizarre little “he-he-he.” “Why not? You’ll have to eventually. When I go, Folly Cove will be yours. Yours and your sisters’. You can all live in splendor then. Meanwhile, it isn’t right, you living off your aunt. Especially not in this dreadful little house!” She wrinkled her nose. “It smells damp. I’m sure there’s mold. And mold isn’t good for babies.”

“Lucy and I were living in a rain forest in Puerto Rico, remember?” Anne handed the paper back. “We’re used to damp. When I find a job, I’ll move closer to wherever I’m working. Not before then.”

Sarah brightened. “Then I’ll give you a job! You can wait tables at the inn. Tend bar. Or work in the kitchen, if you’d rather.”

It was tempting. Cooking at the inn might give her a foot in the door at other restaurants. “What about Rodrigo?”

“Rodrigo would be glad to have another pair of hands. Besides, he’s always had a soft spot for you.” Sarah crossed her legs and folded her arms. It was the posture of someone whose thoughts and emotions were at odds with what she was communicating in words.

But what was her mother conflicted about?

“Mom, are you doing this because of Aunt Flossie? I know you don’t like her.”

“I don’t dislike her,” Sarah said. “Though Flossie is a meddler. The sort who never learned the value of minding her own business. But no. That’s not why. I’m doing it because life is too short for regrets.”

Sarah got to her feet and walked over to her coat. She picked it up from the chair and swung it around her shoulders like a matador’s cape. “If you change your mind about the apartment, my offer is open. I know what it means to be a single mother. I don’t want you to struggle the way I did.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

“Good. If you do insist on staying here, at least let me send in the painters. These walls are ghastly. And the paneling makes the cottage so dark.”

“I love the paneling,” Anne said. “And we can’t paint it. This isn’t our house.”

“This house is more mine than Flossie’s. Let me know when you’re tired of pretending you’re still living in some third-world country. And come to the inn. We’ll talk to Rodrigo about what you can do in the kitchen. Good night.”

Anne watched her mother from the window as she made her way back up the hill to the car. Sarah was hunched against the wind like an old woman, her long coat flapping around her thin legs. If this had been a fairy tale, she could imagine her mother being blown out to sea, the coat turning into an enormous pair of wings to carry her away.

She placed the palm of her hand on the window for a moment, wishing she could call her back and say the things her mother would never want to hear: I love you. I need you. Please don’t go.