moment. There’s been so much going on with Gram getting sick.”
Shelley glanced at the grill and the tide creeping toward them. “And this is it?”
“So . . . Mike Straus, huh?” Madison swiveled to stare at Mike’s bungalow.
“I buried the headline, didn’t I?” Gia chuckled, but the sound came out as shaky as she felt. “I’m sorry.”
“This is wonderful news!” Shelley applauded.
“The best news,” Madison enthused. At least they agreed on something. “We all love Mike so much.”
“I always thought you guys would make a cute couple.” Shelley sighed dreamily. “I’m thrilled for you.”
“How did you two get together?” Madison asked. “Was it before Grammy got sick? Does Grammy know? When is the wedding? Where are you having the ceremony? Who’s officiating?”
Gia felt like a mouse in a trap. She had no answers for Madison’s questions.
“Stop giving her the third degree.” Shelley stood up. “And you, Gia, stop apologizing. Everything is not your fault.”
“Who died and made you the boss?” Madison snapped.
Shelley stilled, curled her hands into fists at her sides. For one dangerous moment Gia feared her sisters would go at each other again.
There was something about Shelley, dressed in ethereal white, spindly legs dug into the sand, bony elbows and knees, scraggly untamed hair whipping wild in the breeze, that scared Gia. Shelley looked both hungry and empty like the vacant lighthouse on the far end of Moonglow Cove. And more unpredictable than ever.
“Who’s hungry?” Gia asked. “I’m starving. Takeout from Mario’s? Or something else. You guys choose. I’m buying.”
Shelley and Madison exchanged glances as if deciding on whether to call a truce for the sake of Mario’s famous lasagna and to celebrate Gia’s engagement. If only it wasn’t fake.
Gia’s mind went back five years to The Incident with Raoul, when she’d helplessly watched her family unspool, drifting further and further away from her like kites snapping loose from their tethers, and wondering how long it would take before they disappeared from her forever.
They ordered from Mario’s and, as the sun set, lounged on the back porch eating from the containers, feeding Pyewacket tidbits of garlic bread, the cat’s small pink tongue rough against their fingers. They didn’t talk, and Gia was afraid to ask if they could work together to finish the quilt. Some things took time to simmer, like Mario’s Bolognese gravy.
Shelley finished her food, got up, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Gia asked.
“Upstairs to find something to wear.” Her gaze met Gia’s. “If my old clothes are still here.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you . . . what’s with that getup?” Madison asked.
Shelley didn’t answer.
“Your old clothes are right where you left them.” Gia rushed to fill in the gap. “In the dresser.”
“Will we sleep in the same room?” Shelley asked. “Like before?”
“God no. Since there’re no guests, I’ll take the blue room,” Madison said, claiming the best room at the inn.
Shelley’s gaze shifted to Gia, and she raised her eyebrows, sending her a look that asked, Are we going to let her have her way?
“You can have our old room, Shell,” Gia said. “I’ll sleep in Grammy’s bed.”
Shelley simply nodded, picked her backpack up off the floor, shouldered it, and sauntered inside. The screen door bumped closed behind her.
“Whatever that’s about . . .” Madison muttered from the porch swing, “is one strange mystery.”
* * *
SLEEP ELUDED HER.
In the long hours stretching toward dawn, Gia fretted.
She fretted about Grammy. She fretted about Madison and Shelley. And she fretted about herself.
About the lie.
What else could she have done? What other choice did she have? The potential consequences of her lie were so weighty Gia felt smothered, carrying a burden far too heavy for her small shoulders.
Obviously, she would have to tell Mike, but he was a straight arrow, honest as the livelong day. He was the guy who gave back change when he’d gotten too much. The guy who’d return someone’s lost wallet. The guy who’d tell you the truth even though it hurt. Something like this . . . it could end their friendship.
That terrified her.
Mike was a staple in their lives. The constant, enduring neighbor they could always count on. She would have to clue him in and quick, before one of her sisters ran over to congratulate him on the engagement.
And if he gets upset?
Well, she’d worry about that bridge when it needed crossing. She drifted off but woke with a jolt just before sunrise, one thought on her mind. Get to Mike and get him on board