Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,15
really needed a new name if I didn’t want to get teary every time I thought of their missing fourth member—sat across from me. I started to wonder if this was some kind of inquisition or intervention.
It felt strange to be their fourth. I might be Nana’s granddaughter, but I couldn’t take her place. Not in this group or anywhere else. I tried to push that thought from my head. They didn’t expect that of me, to be some kind of replacement for Nana.
She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.
Whenever the reminder hit me, like a blow directly to my sternum, the world suddenly seemed untrustworthy. Because it just kept right on going without her.
The sun was shining. An ocean wind stirred the tendrils of hair that had escaped my ponytail. And sugary goodness exploded on my tongue as I took a bite of donut. All was as well as it could be in a world without Nana in it. I shoved away those thoughts.
“Thank you. This is perfection,” I said around a mouth full of a chocolate donut with sprinkles.
“That is a heart attack waiting to happen,” Lucy responded, lifting her nose high.
“Just one won’t hurt. You’re making the rest of us look bad,” I said, licking chocolate off my finger.
Sylvia laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Ay, mija. Some of us are bad.”
“Naughty? Yes. But people who bring donuts and groceries could not be bad. Thank you, by the way.”
Vivi patted my hand. “You’re not in this alone.”
The mood shifted instantly, and I turned my attention to the house across the street, where a flag whipped in the breeze. I didn’t want to be that person who saw every little thing as a symbol of something. Yet that flag looked very much how I felt, totally out of control, battered by everything around me. When the wind died down slightly, the fabric unfurled, and I realized that it was a classic pirate flag, the black background with a skull and crossbones. I wanted to laugh.
Fitting.
“It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” Lucy said, snapping me back to the three women across from me.
“I am definitely not okay. But I will be.” I took a long sip of coffee. I set the paper to-go cup on the table and scanned the familiar faces. I hoped that they could shed some light on why Nana left me in charge, or even why she didn’t leave me a note. “Did you all know?”
The three women exchanged glances. I frowned. It wasn’t like I’d asked them to reveal some big secret.
Lucy was the one who finally answered. Of the three, she was the one to hang back and watch, the last to speak up. A quiet, solid force. Lucy was the one you knew that you could lean on when your business, your marriage, or your life failed. No judgment, only a deep hug and the sense that she would take out anyone who caused you harm.
“Know about what, dear?”
“That Nana left me in charge of everything, not Ann.”
All three looked distinctly relieved. Interesting.
“I think that Jo wanted to see you and Ann mend your relationship,” Sylvia said.
I snorted. “Unlikely. This is only going to make it worse. It’s such a big decision.”
“What does Ann want to do?” Vivi asked, brushing a hand over her hair, which looked like an even brighter turquoise in the sun.
I looked down at the napkin stained with chocolate, flattening the creases. “She wants to sell. At least, that’s what she mentioned.”
The three made humming sounds, all different, but all with the same effect. They clearly disapproved.
“I talked with a contractor about doing some renovations.”
Vivi’s eyes lit up. “You’re going to fix it up for yourself?”
I shook my head. “No. I think we’ll get a better price if we renovate a bit, then list it.” I hadn’t really tested that theory out, and it might be just sinking money into a teardown property, but I couldn’t stand the idea of selling in its current condition. I wanted to at least give Nana’s cottage a fighting chance.
“You don’t want to stay?” Sylvia asked, blinking wide brown eyes at me. “Not even a little?”
“Even if I did”—which I didn’t—“that would mean I had to pay Ann for her half of the house’s worth. I’ve got savings, but not that much. Especially not if I’m paying to fix it up.” Sighing, I changed topics. “What happened in there? What’s with all the stuff?”