When Anne pushed through the cottage’s front door, she announced, “You’re wrong.”
Sadie was washing the wineglasses at the kitchen sink. She made a noncommittal noise, one that clearly meant she disagreed but wouldn’t press the issue.
“I do like myself,” Anne insisted.
Sadie set one of the glasses in the drying rack. “Delightful.”
“Ido, Sadie.”
“You don’t have to convince me, dear heart,” Sadie said gently, not turning around.
Another sentence, unspoken, hummed beneath that one. Anne heard it as clearly as though it were in the house with them.Convince yourself.
Chapter 3
As always, her eldest daughter was the last to arrive.
It was fully dark by the time the lights of Claire’s car flashed as they bumped up Anne’s long driveway, and Anne, watching from the brightly lit back deck, couldn’t help a scowl. Nearly an hour late to the party, long after the rest of their guests had arrived. She’d had to push back the call for dinner, too; the sushi needed exactly ten minutes outside the refrigerator before serving to achieve the exact right temperature.
Claire was thirty-three years old. More than old enough to finally grow up and realize that her poor choices impacted others.
The one benefit of Claire’s lateness was the excuse it provided for Anne to exit a mind-numbing exchange with her daughter Brooke’s inane husband Dan, a man who used the phrase “Oh, wow!” like punctuation. She made a quick apology and ducked inside the French doors, leaving the rest of her guests in conversation.
“If you need a little patience, borrow mine,” Sadie said, following Anne into the house. As always, she seemed to know just what Anne was thinking without Anne ever voicing it. She put a warm hand on Anne’s upper arm for just a moment, and it burned through the crepe fabric. “You know it’s hard for Claire to keep track of time.”
“Youmanage it,” Anne grumbled. Both Sadie and Claire had ADHD, although admittedly it impacted them in different ways. Claire struggled to pay attention to anything that wasn’t fashion or design-related; Sadie didn’t have a pause button.
“All my executive functioning skills are just a carefully-constructed costume. Let’s see what’s really behind thedisguise.” Sadie mimed removing a mask. “Well, what have we here? It’s anxiety!”
That pulled a smile out of Anne’s annoyance.
“Anyway, be gentle with Claire, will you? She’s had a rough time lately.”
“A rough time with what?”
“With Eloise.” Sadie adjusted her forest-green silk trilby hat, which sat jauntily on top of her dark-brown pixie wig. “You know, the breakup.”
How did Sadie always seem to know the details of Anne’s daughters’ lives before Anne herself did? “No, I didn’t know. Wait. Claire broke up with Eloise? Why? I actually liked this one.”
“She didn’t tell you? Eloise was the one who broke it off. Something about Claire not being able to communicate.”
“Well, that tracks,” Anne muttered. “Claire’s never been good at sharing her feelings.”
“My goodness gracious.” Sadie was all mock astonishment. “I wonder what blonde genetic tree your daughter plucked that trait from. Come on, Anne. Don’t be so hard on her.”
“Fine. Fine. All right. It’s a party, I suppose.”
“Look at you, listening to me.” Sadie gave Anne a glowing smile before bustling outside again, her satin polka-dot maxi skirt swishing as she walked.
For a moment, Anne stood still in the middle of her open-plan living area and stared after Sadie. Her mouth felt strangely dry.
“If I remember correctly,” said a deep, familiar voice, “Claire was late to her due date.”
Startled, she swiveled toward the kitchen space to see her ex-husband James behind the counter, ladling the signature cocktail she’d batched that afternoon into a delicate coupé glass. That gray-white beard of his still startled her every time she saw it, even though he’d had it for nearly a year. “She was five dayslate, actually. We used the phrasefashionable entranceon the birth announcements.”
James sipped his cocktail, a lavender syrup twist on a traditional French75. The tasteful handwritten card next to the crystal bowl readFrench60, in honor of Anne’s birthday. “You were always so good with things like that. Announcements, invitations, decorations. Every detail perfect and above reproach. I never properly appreciated it back then.”
“No,” Anne said, and some of the old stiffness tightened her voice. “You really didn’t. But then again, you never properly appreciatedme.”