Secrets Whispered from the Sea - Emma St. Clair Page 0,38

But her interest in him seems to be waning. Even Tommy noticed it.”

I didn’t know what to feel about it. I disliked Nadia. She was awful. And barely older than me and Ann. But she was better than Mom. Didn’t Dad deserve that?

“Well, I wish you had a date night with just you and Tommy, but I’ll do it again sometime.”

“You will?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” I said.

“It’s just … I didn’t expect you to be here this long. Your visits are usually rare. And quick.”

She wasn’t wrong, but I still hated hearing it. “Things are different now.”

“Yeah. I guess they are.” She played with her necklace on the counter, running the single diamond on the chain. “How long are you thinking of staying On Island?”

“I’ve got things to sort out here, so I’m not in a hurry. But I am looking for jobs.”

I had started off looking at listings in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. I hadn’t spent much time up north and those cities all sounded intriguing. But this wasn’t the first time I had looked, and I still hadn’t even sent my resume anywhere. I couldn’t really say why, but I wasn’t motivated to take action. Yet.

Ann hummed and kept playing with her necklace.

Turning to face Ann, I said, “Would it be so bad if I stayed longer?”

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. “I mean, you’ll always leave in the end, won’t you? Maybe it’s better that the girls don’t get used to having you around.”

Sliding my phone off the counter, I practically ran to the front door with my purse. I thought I already had low expectations for our relationship. Apparently, they weren’t low enough, because I continually found myself disappointed.

“Bye, Clem!” Tommy called without moving from the couch. Still silence from Ann. Were things between us that bad, really?

I passed the big unicorn raft as I dashed to Nana’s jeep. It had been too much work for me to consider deflating it, so the girls held it on the drive back. The whole time, I’d been waiting for a cop to pull me over and issue a big, fat ticket.

They can keep it, I thought, tossing it from the jeep and leaving it capsized by Tommy’s black car. I didn’t even realize until I got back to Nana’s cottage that I’d left the jeep doors there as well.

14

All the YouTube tutorials in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the world of playing bridge with the remaining Fab Four. Walking into the civic center shoulder to shoulder with them, I felt as though theme music should be playing, like we were the main characters inside some great movie. If the movie consisted of several sassy older women and their much-younger cohort, who was currently carrying a pineapple upside-down cake.

The good feeling lasted until Sylvia whispered to me just inside the door.

“Your first night will be rough, mija. Just try not to screw up the bid for your partner. And don’t let them see weakness. They’ll smell blood and devour you.”

She patted me on the shoulder, before walking off to greet one of the other women already in the room.

Well, that wasn’t ominous.

“Where should I put your cake, Lucy?” She had made the cake, but insisted I carry it because her hands were arthritic. An excuse I didn’t quite believe, but I carried it anyway.

She waved a hand toward a table at the back set up with snacks. I crossed the room and set Lucy’s dish down next to a punch bowl filled with a sickeningly pink liquid and floating pieces of what I hoped was fruit. Because otherwise … I just wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“Well, that looks like an interesting addition. Is it homemade or from a box?”

I turned to see a little woman with pink hair and a matching pink sweatsuit. Maybe she used the same hairdresser as Vivi. As she leaned over to place a plate of tiny square finger cakes on the table, I saw the word Juicy stitched on the butt of her pants. I bit my lip to hide a smile.

“The cake, dear?” She turned clear brown eyes back on me.

“Right. It’s, um … actually I don’t know.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me it’s store-bought.”

“No. I just wasn’t the one who made it.”

She patted my shoulder with fake sympathy. “That’s okay dear. Not everyone can be a baker. Or a beauty queen.”

And with that, she sauntered off, the Juicy on her bottom swaying. Wow. Had I just been