Her mother’s eyebrows appeared to be permanently raised, the unmistakable expression of shock on her face. “Well, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Louisa Elizabeth Chambers, but I—”
“Mom.” Louisa let the word serve as an entire sentence.
Her mother perched on the chair, the innocent expression falling from her face. Louisa could almost see the pretense drift away.
“What is it? Were you and Daniel having an affair?”
“No, Louisa,” she said. “But I’m not so sure Marissa and your father weren’t.”
Louisa frowned. “What?”
“Marissa is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known,” Mom said. “But I was just cocky enough not to worry about her stealing the eye of a man I was so certain loved nobody else in the world but me.” She laughed to herself. “Warren and I were so taken with each other in those early days, it never seemed like a risk to bring Daniel and Marissa into our lives, especially since they were equally as taken with each other.”
Louisa didn’t tell her mother she had trouble picturing her parents “taken with each other.” But it was hard to imagine.
“Marissa doesn’t seem like the cheating type, Mom,” Louisa said.
Her mother shot her a pointed look. “Oh, but I do?”
“No, of course not.”
“And yet you’ve accused me of that exact thing twice now.”
Her words shamed Louisa. Had she really gotten it all wrong? Had Marissa felt so guilty for betraying Daniel that she let the guilt turn to anger and drove them all apart?
“After Daniel died, she came to see your father. Came right up to the house and asked to speak to Warren.” Her mother’s face fell. “They wouldn’t let me in on their discussion. They said it had to do with business, but if it was really business, why couldn’t they discuss it in front of me? That’s when I started to get suspicious.”
“Did you ask Dad?”
She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t bear to hear the answer. It was easier to pretend that everything was fine, and the only way to do that was to remove myself from Marissa’s life completely.”
Louisa wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never seen even a sliver of weakness in her mother. And now here she was, baring her soul, and Louisa felt ill-equipped to handle it.
“I always thought you blamed me,” Louisa admitted quietly.
Her mother’s shoulders sagged slightly as if she’d only just now decided to relax. “I was full of blame, but the person I blamed the most was myself. I wasn’t a good wife. I was thoughtless and selfish and it made sense to me that your father would turn to someone else for comfort and love. I was lousy at both.”
“But, Mom, you don’t even know if something happened between them.”
Her mother’s expression turned weary. “Your father was more than happy to go along with my plan not to see Marissa and the kids. He seemed downright relieved when I suggested it. I think maybe Daniel’s death finally knocked some sense into him. He was a different man after that.”
Louisa’s mind wandered back. It was true—her father had been changed by the death of his best friend. But wouldn’t anyone be?
“Maybe there was another explanation?”
She shook her head sadly. “I don’t think I have the courage to find out.”
For the first time in her life Louisa actually felt sorry for her mother. To live with this kind of question hanging over her head for so many years must’ve been overwhelming. The not knowing. The assuming. The perceived betrayal. And then to be accused of being the one to do the exact thing she suspected her husband of doing—by her own daughter.
A wave of regret washed over her. It was followed by a wave of dread. “Mom, Marissa is coming to the party tomorrow. She’s on the island now.”
Her mother’s face tightened. Her lips drew into a thin line. “You invited Marissa?”
“I didn’t know,” Louisa said. “I thought it would be good for everyone to be back together—for Maggie’s sake.” And for her own sake, if she was honest.
This whole party was simply a way to ease her own conscience. How selfish she’d been. How wrong.
But this was what Louisa did. She took care of people—it was her job. Surely they understood how important it was to take care of the people she loved most of all. Right?
She’d been so stupid—so arrogant—to assume she had that kind of power.
At the mention of Maggie’s name, Mom shifted. “Of course. For Maggie.” But she quickly stood, hugged her purse to her body, and gave Louisa a nod. “Do take a shower, dear. You look like a mess.”
With that, she was gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“EVERYTHING IS PERFECT.” Ally had been doling out extra compliments in light of Louisa’s sour mood.
Everything was not perfect. In fact, nothing was perfect. But at least when Louisa made mistakes, she made them big: planning a party disguised as a reconciliation for people who didn’t want to be reconciled, inviting Marissa, pushing Cody away. What would she do next—marry Eric, abandon her business, and live a boring, pathetic life?
She groaned.
“What is it?” Ally asked.
“Nothing,” Louisa said. “I just need to get through this night.”
“Get through?” Ally grimaced. “You always said we started The Good Life to stop ‘getting through.’ This party has been on your radar all summer—you don’t get through it; you enjoy it. It might be the last time you get to do something wonderful for Maggie.”
Louisa was embarrassed she needed this reminder.
But she did. She’d grown so selfish she needed to be reminded that one of her dearest friends was dying, and if she were honest, she’d watched Maggie’s condition worsen over the last few weeks. How much longer did the old woman have?
“You’re right,” Louisa said. “You’re so right.”
Ally nodded as if to say, Of course I am. “Why are we standing here? We have guests to greet.”
They’d set up tables and chairs out on Maggie’s favorite beach just behind her house. In the distance, Louisa could see her father heating the oil for the fish fry, and her mom walked around with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
They’d decided to keep the entire affair low-key. Simple and unfussy, just like Maggie. The woman had made it clear she didn’t want “fancy.” She wanted comfortable. Louisa looked around at the family-style meal they were about to serve—all of Maggie’s favorite foods, even though they didn’t necessarily go together. Louisa had even ordered single-serve containers of Lucky Charms, which were lined up on a table next to the cutest little milk bottles she’d ever seen, neatly arranged in a tub of ice. They’d hired a DJ who’d been instructed to only play the oldies, and while Louisa wasn’t sure if that meant songs from the fifties or songs from the thirties, she decided to let him figure it out. Currently “I Can’t Help Myself” was playing in the background, and the guests who’d already arrived seemed to approve.
They’d put up two large tents, and Louisa had created a spot for their guest of honor, a seat that almost resembled a throne. It was fitting. Maggie wasn’t regal or elegant, but she was still a queen.