about to be pulled elsewhere. For weeks I’d wanted to talk to Maggie about her daughter, but I just didn’t know how to stick my nose into business that was so personal.
Probably because my nose didn’t belong there.
At all.
“Maggie.” I clicked save on the manuscript and closed my laptop. “How can I help?”
She smiled as she approached the counter. Maggie was a small woman, so I assumed Annie got her height from her father’s side. She had the same lovely “are they green, blue, or gray?” eyes as Annie, although hers were slightly dulled with a perpetual hint of sadness.
“Good afternoon, Evie. I’m here to order a book, if possible. My favorite author only releases one book a year and I always ordered it from Penny.”
“Of course.” I turned to the store’s laptop and pulled up the distribution database. “What’s the name and title?”
She told me and I found the book and processed the order.
“Shall I just pay when it comes in?”
“Yeah.” I looked up from the screen. “I haven’t heard of her. What kind of books does she write?”
Maggie smiled. “Mystery. She’s like a modern Agatha Christie.”
“Cool. Are you a big reader?”
“The gallery can get quiet, so it’s nice to have a book under the counter.” She gestured around the room. “You have your pick of them.”
“I do. I’m kind of living my dream right now.”
“You love books like I love art.” She leaned against the counter. “Where does it come from, Evie? That passion?”
No one had asked me that. Not even Roane. The answer was a deep pang in my chest. “I . . . uh . . . my dad died when I was eight . . .”
Maggie’s face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It was difficult and, um, my mom fell apart, and books were my solace. My escape.” Suddenly realizing the correlation between my relationship with my mother and Annie’s, I wondered how much I should reveal. Not a lot of people knew about my relationship with my mother, but Maggie and my mom had something in common. They’d both let down their daughters in a big way. But they also weren’t bad people. Not at all.
“My mom’s a recovering alcoholic. In and out of rehab for most of my life. She’s not a bad person,” I hurried to explain. “The very opposite, in fact. But she’s disappointed and hurt me a lot over the years.”
Tears shimmered in Maggie’s eyes as she pressed away from the counter, and I knew those tears weren’t for me. They were for her and Annie.
“Despite all that she’s done to me, how many times she’s broken my heart, I can’t stop loving her.” It was the truth. I loved my mom. I always would. “But this time it’s been harder for me to forgive her. I didn’t think I even would but she . . . she left me a voice mail that surprised me. And I think . . . I mean, I know, that I do forgive her. I think I’ll always forgive her.” My eyes stung as I watched a tear roll down Maggie’s cheek. “She’s my mom, you know.” I walked around the counter and took hold of Maggie’s hand. “You’re her mom, Maggie.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth trembled. “But . . . but it’s different. I turned my back on her. How could she ever forgive me for that?”
“Did you turn your back on her because you stopped loving her?”
“No!” She wrenched her hand from mine and crossed her arms over her waist, huddling into herself. “No,” she whispered. “I . . . I let him make the choice for me.”
“Your husband.”
Maggie nodded. “I know no one should speak badly of the unwell, but my husband . . . it wasn’t a happy marriage. He’s very ill now. I have a full-time care worker who looks after him and he’s unable to communicate because of the stroke . . . and the sad thing is, it’s the most free I’ve ever felt since I was girl.” Her eyes rounded with horror. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Shush.” I gripped her elbows. “No judgment here. Nothing you say to me will ever leave this room.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ve wanted to make amends with Annie for years, but I was afraid of him, and then when he got ill, I realized I was more afraid that Annie wouldn’t forgive me.”
I contemplated Maggie’s situation for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. Finally, I said, “I assume Annie