“You shouldn’t! You have to find a way to let people know what he did,” Maxine said.
Elena shook her head. “To be honest, I’ve been through it over and over again. I’ve considered every angle. And there’s essentially no way to prove what he did to me. I’d look like the boy who cried wolf.”
Maxine closed her eyes. “There has to be a way.”
“Trust me,” Elena said. “I don’t think there is.”
Maxine and Elena finished their pastas and refilled their wine. Elena’s stomach was too full for the chocolate cheesecake, but she promised herself she’d rebound soon. She couldn’t resist what was probably the best cheesecake she’d ever been presented with. Maxine was good at everything.
“What does your mom think happened in Syria?” Maxine asked.
“I’m sure she thinks I messed up.”
Maxine rolled her eyes. “Carmen, Carmen, Carmen. She loves you more than anyone in the world, but she’s never been able to show it.”
“I just wish she’d listen to me,” Elena breathed. “But it isn’t exactly the right time for that conversation.”
“No,” Maxine said sadly.
Elena clasped her hands and remembered the Cranberry Cove, the fresh story that had fallen on her lap. As simply as she could, she explained the story to Maxine, whom she hoped would have some information about Judge Drury and the multi-town corruption. But Maxine looked mystified—and a little horrified.
“I hope you’ll be careful?” Maxine said. “I mean, I know you’ve been through worse. I know you’ve worked for years in war-torn countries and all that. But I wouldn’t underestimate mega-millionaires in Millbrook. They think the world belongs to them. And if they see you getting in their way? They’ll do what they can to take you out.”
“But it’s up to journalists to make sure they don’t do things like this,” Elena said, slightly exasperated.
Maxine nodded. After a pause, she said, “Promise me that you aren’t doing this to prove anything to your mom?”
Elena felt seen—but not in a good way. “I mean, it’s an added benefit.”
“Elena,” Maxine sang, letting her shoulders drop.
“Come on,” Elena said. “This was the work my grandmother started. I’m sure my mother knows about it as well. If I’m the one to finish it, to stop these people in their tracks with a story? I mean, how poetic is that?”
“It’s poetic.” Maxine sounded doubtful. Reaching over, she grabbed the chocolate bar Elena had brought and forgotten about, tore open the foil, and put a square on her tongue. “Does this mean you’re thinking of sticking around?”
Elena was surprised at the question. “Oh, I don’t know.”
Maxine let the chocolate melt on her tongue before chewing. “I used to let myself daydream that you’d move back here. Iimagined us out in my yard, sun-tanning like we used to, while the girls ran themselves ragged around us. I imagined us as little old ladies, going in and out of stores, trying on clothes and hats. Over the years, I killed off a lot of these dreams. But now that you’re here? I’ve let myself start daydreaming again.”
Elena’s heartbeat quickened. She hadn’t imagined she’d been in Maxine’s daydreams.
“I’ve been thinking of it, a little bit,” Elena finally confessed.
Maxine’s face lit up.
“I’ve been imagining all kinds of stuff,” Elena said. “Moving into my mother’s house for good. Running the paper. Bulldozing the mansions at the Cranberry Cove.”
Maxine laughed outright. “Get serious.”
Elena bit her lower lip before adding, “I’ve been wondering about becoming a mother. I’ve been daydreaming about it a little bit. But I think it’s too late.”
“What makes you say that?” Maxine asked.
“I’m forty-two,” Elena said flatly.
But Maxine didn’t look fazed. “Plenty of women are having babies in their forties these days,” she said. “Family planning is a completely different ball game. If you’re interested in that.”
Elena reached for a square of chocolate and forced herself to laugh at the idea. “I’m sure it’s a terrible idea,” she said. “It’s not like I have a partner. It’s not like I have anything to give.”
