been joking. “But seriously, my kids truly are wonderful. They’ve handled all of this better than I have.” Again, too much information.
His eyebrows knit together, and he reached forward to turn off the recorder. “I know what you mean. Kids are resilient. When my wife died of cancer three years ago, I was a wreck. My children saved me. Truly.”
Angela’s mouth formed an O, and she had the urge to reach for his hand. The admission sat there between them. How should she respond?
“Mom!” Zach burst through the kitchen door and skidded to a halt. “Who’s that?” His eyes swung between Simon and Angela; they widened, then narrowed in suspicion.
“This is Mr. King. He’s a reporter doing a story about the marathon.”
“Oh.” Her son grabbed a banana out of the fruit basket. “Cool.”
The rest of the house was quiet. “Zach, where are your sisters and Grandma?”
“Lilly wanted to fly her kite, so Grandma’s watching from the dock.”
“What about Kylee?”
He shrugged as he bit into the banana. “As soon as we got back, Grandma took Lilly to the dock and Kylee said she was going out.”
“What?” Angela turned her whole body, and her knee knocked against the table leg with the abrupt movement. “Where?”
Zach shrank back a bit. “I dunno. Probably the coffee shop. She saw Daisy there on our way home.”
“Oh.” The next-door neighbor, Daisy, had befriended Kylee and introduced her to others their age in the area. The coffee shop was only a few minutes’ walk, and so far Wanaka had proven itself to be a small, peaceful town. There’s no need to worry, Angela. “Thanks, bud.”
He stuffed the rest of the banana into his mouth, tossed the peel into the trash, and left.
Angela directed her attention back to Simon. “Sorry about that.”
Kylee would be fine, right? Yes. Fine.
So long as she used good judgment—exactly the thing Angela hadn’t done herself.
“Not a problem. You ready to resume?”
“Yes, absolutely.” Because the sooner they finished, the sooner she could go check on Kylee.
Where was Eva when she needed her?
15
Christmas Eve in New Zealand sure looked different to Eva than it did back home.
Daisy’s parents, Jim and Fiona, had invited the entire Jamison clan over for lunch. A cloudless sky overhead guaranteed another gorgeous day, and the sun warmed Eva’s cheeks where she stood in their neighbors’ backyard, making her grateful once again she was missing one of the worst winters in New York history. Not only was the holiday weather opposite here, but instead of a turkey roasted in the oven, Jim had thrown venison and shrimp on the barbecue, and Fiona had laid out a spread of cold desserts—from pavlova to cheesecake to fruit salad—in the place of hot pies on the table. The combination of aromas nearly enticed Eva to forgo her manners and dig in before it was all ready.
Laughter rang out from the Adirondack chairs on Jim and Fiona’s back porch where Kylee and Daisy were on their phones, exclaiming over some heartthrob or other. Zach and Lilly kicked a soccer ball with Marc. Sherry helped Fiona set the long picnic table with plastic plates and silverware.
Eva’s heart swelled. A wonderful day of togetherness lay ahead.
But wait. Where was Angela?
Eva scanned the yard. Finally, she spied her sister-in-law on the Jamisons’ dock. What was she doing down there? Hopefully she wasn’t still upset that Eva had put her in an awkward position with the reporter yesterday. Marc had gotten a flat tire on their bike ride and it had taken them longer than anticipated to get home for the interview. Add to that the fact Eva’s phone hadn’t had service, and it had been the perfect storm.
Eva walked over to the neighbors’ yard and up the path to the dock, then stood next to Angela, whose legs dangled over the side as she stared off at the mountains that were farther away than they seemed. “Am I disturbing you?” Not waiting for an invitation that would never come, she lowered herself next to her sister-in-law.
Angela’s gaze swung to meet Eva’s briefly before she turned back to the mountains. “Oh. Hey, Eva.” Her cheeks had reddened slightly, though from the cool breeze or some emotion, who could tell. “Is it time to eat?”
Well, she was talking to her. That was a good sign. “Almost.” Eva slid off her sandals and dipped one toe in the water, then quickly withdrew it. The locals had said the lake remained frigid year-round—around fifty degrees Fahrenheit, if memory served—but every day she