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“We have a couple of hours. What do we need to do to get everything in order?” Amelia asked earnestly after Matt cleared away their glasses of iced tea. Tensions had cooled, but there was a lot left to do and discuss. And, even minor issues awaited them back on the mainland. For Amelia, those included Dobi’s potty break and Jimmy’s looming existence. He’d texted her throughout the morning, commenting on where he was and what he was up to. Somehow, he’d made his way to the house on the harbor, though he promised her he'd stick to Birch Village until she was back at the house.
Megan, too, was fighting against urgency. Sarah needed her to return home that night. Although, Amelia wondered if that was true or if Megan wanted to return home. Or, at least, return to her daughter and husband.
Kate seemed distracted more than ever. Amelia felt for her. Here Kate was, in control of their mom’s affairs on the heels of her own personal tragedy—losing Paul not too long before. Plus, Amelia knew Kate’s financial situation was not much better than her own. Or Megan’s for that matter. The only one who enjoyed any degree of stability at the present was Clara, of all people.
The financial pressure along with an extended run-in with Kate’s high school sweetheart only added to their drama. Being sequestered in Birch Harbor until they hammered out the details felt like bunking up in a crucible. Something—or someone—was about to burst.
A thought occurred to Amelia, an off-topic detail, altogether, but one that perhaps mattered. “Do you live here alone?” she asked Matt, staring around the walls. “Or do you have a roommate?” She fixed her gaze on Megan, who caught on to her line of reasoning.
“I live here with my daughter,” he answered.
Kate cocked her head at Amelia as if to say see? No scandal.
Amelia smiled. “How old is your daughter? What’s her name?”
“She’s fourteen. Viviana.” He plucked a photo from his fridge and showed it to them. Each sister cooed in turn.
“She’s beautiful. Does she live with you full-time?” Kate asked.
Matt nodded. “Yep. Her mom moved to Detroit chasing some big-city gig. She’s very successful. She visits often.”
“If you died today,” Amelia went on, narrowing down to her main point and question—they had figured he had a daughter, that was no big mystery, “who would get this place?”
“Viviana,” he answered easily. “Why?”
“Well,” Amelia replied, her emerging claim surfacing on her lips like she was morphing into some sort of intellectual detective, “what about your ex? And your parents? Would they get in the way at all?”
He laughed derisively. “No, of course not. Everything would go to Viviana... or—” his voice fell away, and he looked at Kate.