but that same bone structure had given her a markedly odd appearance as a child. As if parts of her were already adult sized, while others continued to grow.
“Who’s the internship with?” Anahera asked, digging through fading memories for more than faint impressions of the child the nineteen-year-old had once been, but there wasn’t much. Ten years’ difference in age had been too big a divide for them to cross.
A smile so bright, it was as if the sun had come out. “A collective of professional travel photographers who want to support those wanting to get into the industry. I get to travel with them, learn from them.”
“These are hers.” Tone humming with pride, Josie pointed to the images on the café walls.
All featured Golden Cove residents caught in moments of laughter and joy. Nikau, the black curves of his tā moko defined with crystal clarity by the sun and his handsome face dipping a little as he grinned while thrusting a hand through his hair. Mrs. Keith throwing back her head and laughing so hard that you could almost hear the boom of sound. Josie, smile soft as she looked down at her baby bump, her hand curved under it.
“These are incredible.” Anyone could do bleak West Coast landscapes—the landscape itself called for it, posed for it. But to get Nikau to grin like that when, from all Josie had told her, he’d changed in brittle, angry ways from the boy she’d once known, that took skill, and patience. Not only had Miriama managed the feat, she’d captured the moment in stunning color.
And it hadn’t escaped Anahera’s notice that Miriama had juxtaposed her subjects against backgrounds that posed unspoken questions about public and private faces, about the truth of happiness itself: torn pages and wadded-up paper strewn across a floor, a room crammed full of dolls, a lonely stretch of beach. “You have a gift.”
“Thank you,” Miriama said in open pleasure, as she brought over the two coffees. “My favorite is the one of Josie. It’s pretty hard to outshine the ocean, but she did it like a pro.”
“No need to butter me up.” Josie scowled. “It’s not as if you’re going to ask for a raise.”
Laughing, the young Māori woman with deep, dark eyes and black hair pulled back in a bun leaned down to hug her sun-kissed arms around Josie. “I love you, Jo. Sorry I’m being a disloyal brat and running off to the city.”
“Just so long as you remember me when you’re rich and famous,” Josie said, patting the girl on the arm with sisterly affection.
“Always. Let me get you the cake.” She brought over two generous slices. “Shall I walk the last piece over to our local tall, silent, and mysterious hunk?” A waggle of her eyebrows. “You know he has a weakness and he always pays.”
Josie nodded. “The constabulary,” she added after Miriama walked out.
“I think I met him.” Anahera told Josie of her breakdown. “How long’s the police presence been a thing?”
“Three months. His name’s Will. Came from Christchurch.”
“Christchurch?” That was the biggest city in the South Island. “What did he do to get banished to Golden Cove?”
Josie shrugged. “No idea—but I saw his name in the papers before that for solving some high-profile cases, so it must’ve been pretty bad.” She turned slightly to call out to her boy. “Baby, do you want some cake?”
Engrossed in his coloring, Niam just shook his head.
“It’s so good to have you back, Ana,” Josie said afterward. “I’ve missed my best friend so much. It’s finally back to how it should be.”
Anahera smiled, but she knew that it was impossible for things to ever be the same. “It’s good to be back,” she said.
In truth, she’d had nowhere else to go, and here, at least she had Josie.
“Will you miss London?” Josie asked after swallowing a bite of cake. “You had such a glamorous life, going to all those premieres and shows, and performing your music in those huge concert halls.” Her face glowed. “I showed the articles to everyone. My friend, the star classical pianist.”
Anahera took a bite of cake to give herself time to think of an answer that wouldn’t shatter Josie’s illusions. “Holy cow,” she exclaimed in honest surprise. “This cake!”
“I know—amazing, right? Julia is a magician.”
“Julia Lee? Didn’t she become a lawyer?”
Josie set off on a welcome detour into the life of the other woman, but led back around to her question afterward. “You will, won’t you? Miss London.” In her