were benign, the despair that trickled into her voice wasn’t.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly. She couldn’t help remembering the little sister who always turned to Jess when she had a bad dream or when their father would go on a rampage.
They were best friends, united in all things to protect each other from the chaos of their home, until that terrible June night when everything changed.
Rachel took a healthy sip of her mojito. “Nothing. I’m perfectly fine. Couldn’t be better.”
“You’re lying.” She tilted her head, trying to see beneath her sister’s facade. “Is it Silas?”
Rachel let out a short laugh. “Why would you think anything might be wrong? I’m only dealing with three kids under the age of seven, one of whom happens to be on the spectrum.”
This time Rachel took an even healthier sip of her drink.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” Jess said.
“What choice do I have?”
Jess blinked at the hard tone, one she hadn’t ever heard from her sister.
Rachel immediately backtracked. “Sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant. I love my life. Cody, the girls, Silas. I am so lucky to have them all. I can’t imagine my world without them. I don’t want to imagine my world without them. Today was a hard day and you’re on the tail end of my bad mood. Sorry.”
Before Jess could respond and tell her sister what a wonderful mother she was and how she admired the way Rachel handled her challenges with grace and courage, the hostess returned.
“Your table is ready. I apologize for the wait.”
“No problem,” her sister chirped with another one of those fake smiles. She grabbed her purse in one hand and her drink in the other and followed the woman.
Jess didn’t have any choice but to do the same, though she wished the hostess had waited five more moments so she could have told her sister how much she admired her.
It was a beautiful view, she had to admit. The Pacific stretched out in both directions. She could look down and see rock formations up and down the coast. She could even see Whitaker House, with its small protected cove.
The night was pleasant but cool, making Jess grateful for the sweater she had brought along and also for patio heaters that sent out a comforting warmth.
“Simone will be your server and Donnie will be helping her out,” the hostess informed them with a polite smile as she set two menus in front of them. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. We’re fine. Thanks,” Rachel said. Her features were so pleasant and controlled that Jess had to wonder if she had imagined that hint of despair.
“I can’t wait to order. I’m starving,” Rachel said as soon as the woman glided away. “They have the most amazing scallops here. The sauce is seriously to die for.” Her sister then started chattering about some of the things going on in her life, talking about the PTA, her women’s group, her garden, where the peas were already coming on.
Rachel hardly let Jess squeeze a word into the conversation and barely slowed down to let them both order when Simone came over.
Jess’s day had been long and busy and she had hardly stopped long enough for lunch. She ended up ordering the scallops and a house salad.
For all the hype she had given, Rachel ended up ordering something completely different, a blackened salmon and strawberry salad she said was her second favorite thing on the menu.
After the server had taken their menus and walked away to put their orders into the system, Rachel sipped from her water glass then folded her hands together. “So. How are things going for you? You’re helping Eleanor Whitaker clean out her house. That must be amazing. I’ve always wanted to have a day to spend just wandering through that place.”
“It is beautiful.”
“I still want to know if she’s going to put the house up for sale. I always thought Nate would inherit it, that it had been in the Whitaker family too long to let it pass to someone else. But what do I know?”
“I don’t know her plans,” Jess said, in complete honesty. “Right now, we’re just focusing on cleaning out the house and getting rid of some of her husband’s things.”
“Jack was such a great guy. I remember in high school he visited as a guest lecturer to my English class. I think he was friends with Stella Davenport, my teacher. He could really make