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Her face softened at Matt. Kate didn’t know Viviana. She’d only ever seen the girl at the funeral, and, while she knew Matt had moved on from their adolescent romance, his new life was a hard pill to swallow. Then again, hadn’t Kate moved on, too?
Yes.
Kate had moved on. She’d married and had two sons and lived a whole new life, worlds away.
So then, why did her pulse quicken when Matt covered her hand with his? Why did she go to him first, before her sisters?
There was no rule demanding that Kate seek out Matthew Fiorillo. Her mother hadn’t left such a stipulation in her diary entry, after all.
But there they were, in his kitchen on Heirloom Island, like old friends. Perhaps that’s exactly why she’d gone to him. Amelia and Megan were too removed from Birch Harbor. Matt, having stayed on there and experienced the waves of time in the small lakeside town, was a rock. More so than Kate’s own sisters, apparently.
“Matt,” she said, changing the conversation. “What have we missed?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Megan and Amelia had left the table and were currently wandering around in front of the house, giving Kate and Matt space to talk.
“I mean what has gone on in Birch Harbor all these years? What have you seen and heard?”
“What have I seen and heard about your mom and Clara?” he asked earnestly.
Kate blinked. “Well,” she began, swallowing a growing lump in her throat. “Yeah.”
He breathed in through his nose and pushed the air out of his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, a reflective glaze coating his stare. “Same old, same old, I suppose. I’ve seen your mom do her country club thing. I’ve seen her at the village. I’ve heard she’s made her rounds at parties and big town events, sponsoring this or showing up for that.” He lowered his voice for what he said next. “I’ve seen her with men.”
Kate paled at his implication. Her heart hurt. Her body even hurt. She was supposed to be back home by now, packing her house and preparing to put it on the market. She was supposed to be sad and depressed that her mother was gone, not angry that her mother left something of a mess behind.
Inhaling sharply, she nodded in response. “And Clara? Do you ever see Clara?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. I think she keeps to herself.”
Kate nodded again, this time more thoughtfully. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Matt. I’m sure you weren’t expecting your high school girlfriend to rush in asking you to save her.”
They locked eyes, and Matt leaned forward in his seat. He was the same boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago, but now a man. His kind eyes sat inside of crow’s feet and his chin and cheeks were shadowed by handsome stubble. And, Matt’s mouth. A full mouth that had lived a lifetime away from hers. Back then, she’d have hated to think that Matt would belong to anyone but her.
But, he had. And not just romantically. His lips had no doubt kissed his own frail mother. His... daughter. Kate had missed all those moments with him. Were there more women, too? Was there someone... now?
“Matt,” Kate whispered again. Just as she was about to apologize a second time, his jaw set and his eyes lowered to her lips.
“No,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you.” A tear welled along her lower lash line. He lifted his thumb and reached across the table to brush it away. “Is it too late?”
***
She swallowed. It wasn’t too late. But the timing was bad. She shook her head at Matt and blinked away the tears and thirty-some years’ worth of regret. “We need to get ready to go. Clara will be done with school soon. I want to have a plan in place for this meeting.” Kate stood abruptly from the table, and the air sucked out from between them, leaving in its wake a chill. “What do you have going on this afternoon? Do you have to pick up, um, Viviana from school, or...?”
“Or am I bringing pizza to the meeting of the minds?” he finished her sentence in a half-joke, and it successfully lightened the mood.
Kate grinned. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “I can bring the pizza. Viviana walks home. She goes to St. Mary’s just up the road. I’ll leave a note for her. But, Kate—”
Folding her lips in between her teeth, she dipped her chin toward him. “Yes?”
“Are you sure I should come? This is a... this is awkward. It’s a big conversation. Maybe a private one, even.”
Kate glanced out the front window, her gaze falling on her younger sisters. She contemplated his point, mulling it over like she was smoothing a jagged rock in a tumbler.
Matt was right. The conversation was serious. It would be upsetting. It would be uncomfortable and confusing.
Two things needed to happen. And they needed to happen soon, so that the women could get back on with their lives. They needed to tell Clara the truth. And they needed to decide who was getting what.
And those conversations were inseparable, tied together in history and in the present, by all four of them. Matt belonged there, too. And if Clara were Amelia, who reveled in high drama and theatrics, then Kate would maybe bring him.
But Clara wasn’t Amelia. She wasn’t dramatic. She wasn’t Megan either—tough and steel-willed. No. She was most like Kate, quiet, reserved, and generally serious. Mostly, Clara was still just a girl.
“Will you bring the pizza but wait outside? Perhaps in the back porch?” she asked Matt.
“Of course,” he answered. “I’m good at that.”
She cocked an eyebrow for clarification. “Good at what?”
He replied through a mischievous smile. “Waiting.”