down the last of my neon lemonade. She wasn’t budging. “Will you at least promise to stop watching Real Life Mysteries?”
“That’s my favorite show.”
“It’s on Saturday nights and it’s meant for people who are a hundred years old. Or at least fifty-five.”
“That’s not true,” she said.
“Then how come all the commercials are for adult diapers and Viagra?” I sighed. “It’s time to get a life, Kate.”
“You make it sound easy. And you may not start calling me Kate.”
“Maybe it’s not as hard as you think.” We threw our garbage away, walked back to the car, and got inside. We sat there for a minute staring at the water. I checked my phone. Still no word from Zack. I didn’t want to go back to Nantucket. I didn’t even want to go back to Providence. I wanted to stay right here, at Sue’s Clam Shack. Forever.
Mom spoke first, as if she could read my mind. “I can’t force you to go back. But you only have one week left. If you just quit, you’ll ruin your first job reference, and who knows if that writer will write you a letter of recommendation for college? Quitting right at the end doesn’t look good. And don’t you think it’s better to talk to Jules while it’s still fresh?”
“No. The thought of going there and talking to Jules gives me a stomachache.”
“Sometimes you have to do things that make you uncomfortable.”
“But you don’t,” I said, turning to face her. “You won’t even go on one date.”
“That’s different,” she said.
“Bullshit.” I unrolled the window and stuck my feet out. “This apple has landed directly under the tree.”
She leaned into her seat, rubbed her temples, and closed her eyes. Then she sighed.
“Put your feet in the car.” I did, and she started the engine. “Okay. If I go on a date with this Paul Morgan, will you go back to Nantucket? Will you finish out this job and talk to Jules?”
“Yes,” I said, and buckled my seat belt as we headed out of the parking lot. Then I leaned over and hugged her so hard we swerved a little onto the grass.
“Quick, turn on the radio,” Mom said as she steered us back onto the road. “Before I change my mind.”
I put on the ’80s station and turned it all the way up.
That night, I heard Mom laughing in her bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I called into the darkness.
“I’m reading my diary,” she said, nearly wheezing. “This thing is hysterical.”
Forty-four
“I THINK THAT GUY was working here the last time I was on the ferry,” Mom said under her breath about the unfriendly white-haired guy behind the food counter. We bought hot dogs, chips, an iced tea for me, and a white wine for her, and found two seats by the railing. It was cloudy and even a little cold today. I wished I’d worn my jeans. I told Mom that she didn’t have to come, but now I was glad she was here. I was scared of seeing Jules and Parker and of being rejected by Zack, but it was the thought of having another one of the moments when I couldn’t breathe or move that made me want her around the most.
I’d described the moment with the red Volvo to her back in Providence. I was sitting on her bed with my laptop as she packed. I told her it felt like someone was choking me.
“It’s called an anxiety attack,” Mom said. “Now, do you think we can find a picture of this Paul Morgan person?” I Googled him and found a picture on his law firm’s Web site.
“Oh, yeah, I think I do remember him. He was fun.” She studied the picture. “Nice hair. He remembers me?” she asked.
“I already told you, he’s, like, in love with you.”
Mom smiled and tucked hair behind her ear. Then she looked in her closet and pulled out…oh my god…a pair of heels. They actually had dust on them.
“Cricket, you’re back!” Liz was headed upstairs with an armful of clean towels. She put them on a table and threw her arms around me. “I’m glad to see you.” She pulled back and mock slapped me. “Leaving me alone with Bernadette for two whole days, the nerve.” She stuck out her hand to Mom. “You must be Cricket’s mum. I’m Liz.”
“Nice to meet you,” Mom said.
“I’m Cricket’s top advisor on matters of the heart,” Liz said.
“We could all use one of those,” Mom said, laughing.
“Especially this one,” Liz said,