“I know you do, dear.”
Liza held her breath. Waited. Hoped. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
But she wasn’t going to say it back.
Liza knew she should have accepted that by now. “How’s Martha? Where are you both now? It must be, what—” she checked her phone “—ten o’clock in the morning where you are?”
“Nine. We’re about to eat breakfast before we hit the road.”
Liza smiled at the description. “I’m pleased you’re having fun. By the way, that nice policewoman called. Given that your intruder was drunk, apologetic and apparently had no previous convictions, she thinks it’s unlikely that you’ll be called in this matter.”
“That’s it?”
“Seems like it.”
“Well, good. Poor man. Now what are you doing this afternoon? Please don’t say you’ll be cleaning.”
“No cleaning. I’m going to the beach with my sketchbook and paints.” She hadn’t felt the urge to paint in years, but she felt it now. She was excited at the prospect, and that excitement grew as she heard her mother’s murmur of approval.
“Promise me something? Whatever that painting looks like, I want you to leave it for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like another of my daughter’s paintings in the house.”
“Another?”
“To go with the others, although they were painted a long time ago of course. Too long. You’ve neglected that talent.”
Her mother had kept her paintings? Liza felt a warm glow and then felt irritated with herself for being so needy.
“I’ll leave you a painting.”
She didn’t mention that Finn had asked if she took commissions, or that he was coming to dinner at the end of the week. “I wanted to ask you—you know those old DVDs of your shows? Where are they? Can I watch them?”
“Why? You were never interested in the show. You always hated that part of my life.”
Liza felt a twinge of guilt. She could hardly say that talking to Finn had piqued her desire to look back at the way her mother had been back then. “I was young. I missed my mother, that’s all.”
There was a silence and she wondered what her mother was thinking.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes! Sorry. I was distracted. The DVDs are in my study. On the shelf, I think, beneath the travel guides. The key to the study is in the drawer by my bed. But Liza—”
“What?”
“Don’t tidy. Don’t throw anything away.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” She heard clattering in the background. “What’s happening?”
“Josh, the hero, has organized breakfast for us. It’s just arrived. Goodness, what a feast!”
“Who is Josh?”
“He’s someone we picked up yesterday. A delightful man, and adept at procuring breakfast it would seem.”
Liza opened her mouth and closed it again. “You—picked up a stranger?”
“Well, he’s no longer a stranger. In fact without him I’d—” Her mother stopped talking.
“You’d what?”
“Nothing. I must go. You know I can’t bear cold oatmeal. And Liza, about Finn—”
“Yes?”
“Some of the rumors about him are true. He is charming, and absurdly handsome of course, but a little on the dangerous side, especially when it comes to women. Be careful.”
“I can’t believe you’re telling me to be careful. You picked up a hitchhiker!”
“I know. It’s only because I don’t want you to do something impulsive that you regret.”
Why would her mother say that? Liza had been with Sean since she was a teenager. She’d never been at all interested in another man. Had her mother somehow sensed how unsettled she was?
With a final goodbye, Liza put the phone down. Regrets? Right now she had a feeling that she was more likely to regret things she hadn’t done than things she had. And she had no reason to feel guilty or uncomfortable. She’d invited Finn to dinner, that was all. It was the neighborly thing to do in the circumstances.
There had been no reason at all to mention it to her mother.
14
MARTHA
SPRINGFIELD~KANSAS~TULSA
Martha put a loaded breakfast tray on the table and pulled it close to the bed while Josh poured coffee. She was grateful for his calm, steady presence. “Why didn’t you tell Liza the truth?”
“Because then she would have worried and this is the first time in as long as I can remember that my daughter hasn’t seemed anxious. She’s staying in the cottage on her own. Taking her paints to the beach. I have no intention of saying anything that will draw a gray cloud over her blue-sky day.”
Martha hoped it was the right decision. She still felt shaken up after the night before. The responsibility weighed on her. If she were Liza, she’d want to know. But she wasn’t family, so she had to respect Kathleen’s wishes. “All right, but you heard what the doctor said. You overdid it yesterday. Too much sun, not enough water. You were dehydrated. I’m blaming myself.”
“Why? I’m old enough to decide whether I’m thirsty.”
“Apparently not. And today I’m going to be nagging you to drink every half hour.”
“Does gin count?”
“No.” Martha piled fresh berries into a bowl, relieved that Kathleen appeared to be back to her usual outrageous self. “This breakfast looks delicious, Josh. Where did you find all this?”
“I raided the kitchen. Friendly people.” He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, nursing a cup of strong coffee. “I agree with Martha. I don’t think you should rush to go anywhere this morning, Kathleen. Take it slowly and see how you feel later.”
All the antipathy and suspicion Martha had felt had vanished. She had more than one reason to be thankful for the fact that they’d picked up Josh Ryder in Devil’s Elbow.
Josh had been the one who caught Kathleen before she could hit the floor, and it had been Josh who had located a doctor in virtually the same time it had taken Martha to settle Kathleen on the bed.
He seemed to have a way of making things happen, and for that Martha was grateful.