door opening and shutting. “Hello?” called a voice.
“Mom.” Brushing her hands off on her pants, Lily met her mother in the living room. “What are you doing here?”
Sharon Cutler Robinson offered a thin smile. “I came as soon as I heard.”
Lily studied her for a moment. Her mother was an infrequent visitor, as distant and cool as the moon. At one time, she had been pretty, perhaps even beautiful; Lily knew from looking at old photographs. Over the years, her mother’s looks had taken on a brittle edge, hardened by unhappiness and a fierce dedication to her job as a product safety manager. Yet her eyes held sympathy, and Lily hugged her briefly, breathing in the familiar scent of Elizabeth Arden cologne.
“Thanks for coming. Can I get you a cup of tea?”
“Nothing, thank you. Your father sends his love, by the way. He’s in Saigon.” Terence Robinson was an executive with Nike who spent half his life overseas. Sharon removed her raincoat and hung it by the door. She wore a cloud-soft white angora sweater that should have looked too young on her, but didn’t. “I wanted to find out if you’re all right, and what’s happening with Crystal’s family.”
Lily’s chest ached as she recounted the past twenty-four hours, yet she spoke in a strangely dispassionate voice. When she was around her mother, she always felt silly being emotional. What’s the point of crying? Mom used to say when she was a kid. It doesn’t change anything.
What Lily had discovered then was just as true now. It hurt more to keep it in.
“It’s terrible,” Sharon said when Lily described Sean’s early-morning discovery. “What were they doing all the way out at the coast? What were they thinking?”
“We’ll never know.”
“Something drove them out there and made them reckless,” Mom said. “I wonder what it was.”
Troubling news about their daughter, thought Lily, unable to help herself. “I need to finish packing,” she said, and headed toward the bedroom. The guilt slithered through her chest. She couldn’t stop wondering if things would have turned out differently if she’d broken the news about Charlie with more compassion, or not at all. I want that hour back, she thought, breaking apart inside. I just want that hour back.
“Where are you going?”
“To Crystal’s house.”
“I thought you said their uncle was in charge over there.”
“He is, but he’s a single guy, Mom. He just moved back from the Philippines or Malaysia, somewhere like that. I want to make sure I’m there for the kids.” She felt her mother watching as she folded jeans and socks, tucked in a bag of toiletries. “What?” she asked finally.
“Be careful you don’t get too attached.”
Lily stopped in the midst of zipping her suitcase. “What are you talking about?”
“They belong to their uncle. It’s inevitable.”
Lily resumed the zipping, but it snagged on a bit of fabric inside and refused to budge. “No one knows what will happen. They’re wards of the state. Temporarily, anyway. Crystal asked me to sign an affidavit agreeing to be the kids’ guardian if anything happened to both her and Derek. I never did sign anything because…well, why would we be in a rush? Now, if Derek’s will contains something that contradicts that—”
“You’d better hope it does. Don’t fight their uncle on this, Lily. You can’t take on three kids. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.” Her mother stepped forward. “Here, let me get that unstuck for you.” She pushed Lily’s hand aside and backed the zipper up, then pulled it smoothly back on track. “You have to regard the Holloways as you would other children you teach. They’re yours for a time and then you let them go.”
“This is different. She’s—she was my best friend, Mom, my only close friend. I made a promise to her. That’s not something I can let go of.” Lily put a hand on the bedpost to steady herself, praying she wouldn’t lose it in front of her mother. “Did you know…all day long at odd moments, I’ve thought of Evan.” She instantly regretted saying the name of her brother, so many years gone and unremembered by Lily and her sister. Taking her mother’s hand, she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up. It’s just that a loss so terrible…my mind is trying to draw comparisons.”
Her mother took her hand back. “Aren’t things bad enough?” She pivoted away, turning her attention to the closet. Unlike the rest of the room, it was cluttered with shoes and bags, clothes crammed