Anna looked at Claudia.
Claudia closed the door firmly so that they were alone.
“Okay, tell us what’s going on. And don’t say it’s nothing.”
“It was something to do with that photograph, wasn’t it?” Anna sat down next to her and put her arm around Erica. “Tell us.”
“Or is it this place? You’ve been acting strangely the whole journey.Tense.” Claudia sat on the other side of her, protective. “If it’s just too quaint and Christmassy, we can leave. Find somewhere else.”
Erica made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” Anna ignored the twinge of disappointment. The place was perfect, but this week was about people not places. Her friends. If it wasn’t perfect for Erica, then they would leave. “We love you. This is our special week. We want you to be happy and have fun. Is that what’s wrong? Is it this place?”
“Yes. No. Not exactly. Not in the way you think.” Erica rubbed her palm over her cheek and only then did Anna realize she was crying.
Erica. Crying.
Anna cried frequently. She cried at movies. She cried over books. She cried when she looked at photographs of the twins when they were little because they looked so cute, and those days had been so happy, and she was never going to have them back. She cried when Pete bought her flowers because it meant he’d thought about her during his day, and she cried whenever she drove away from her parents’ house after a visit because she loved them and they were growing older and she hated leaving them.
Erica never cried. She munched popcorn in sad movies; she shook her head in disbelief when her friends cried over sad books.
Anna’s heart split in two. “Please don’t cry.”
“It’s your fault for being kind. Stop being kind.” Erica sniffed. “Does anyone have a tissue?”
“Anna will have a tissue,” Claudia said. “Anna has everything in that bag of hers. She could feed you and save a life.”
Anna dutifully produced a tissue and Erica took it from her.
“Thanks. Sorry. This is supposed to be a lighthearted getaway and I’m ruining it.”
“You’re not ruining anything.” Anna gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re your family.”
Erica gave a watery smile. “Pete and the kids, they’re your family.”
Anna heard the tremor of insecurity and was shocked by it. This wasn’t Erica. “Yes, but so are you. And I’ve never given you reason to doubt that. Neither has Claudia. The three of us have been a family since the day you stomped into our room and claimed the top bunk.”
“Is it a man? Is it Jack?” Claudia was scowling. “Because I can punch him. I’ve been practicing my punches. I’m good. I’d welcome some real-life practice.”
Erica pressed the tissue to her eyes. “It’s no one you can punch. It’s not Jack.” She drew in a quivering breath. “I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid of me. Bad decision. I should have been honest with you guys, so that you could have talked me out of it.”
“So it is this place. Right, that’s it.” Claudia pulled out her phone. “We’re going to find somewhere else right away. Where’s the nearest town, Anna? We’ll find somewhere to stay tonight, and then drive to Boston tomorrow. A week in Boston will be great. We can run alongside the Charles River, linger in coffee shops and pretend we’re young college students again.”
“It’s not this place. Not exactly.” Erica blew her nose and Anna handed her a fresh tissue.
“The photograph upset you. Hattie obviously had a close relationship with her dad.” She hesitated. “Did it make you sad, seeing her with her father?”
“Yes.” Erica screwed the tissue into a tiny ball. “Yes, it did.”
“He looked like a good guy.” Claudia glanced up from her phone. “A good dad. Hattie was lucky. Except that her husband died, so maybe not so lucky…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced at Anna for help.
Anna badly wanted to say the right thing, but didn’t know what the right thing was.
She wasn’t sure what this was about.
“It must hurt seeing a caring, loving dad when your own walked out when you were only minutes old.”
“It does hurt.”
