As they drove down Manzanita Road, Angeni made a mental note to do more outings like this. It was true that The Land provided everything she could possibly need, but there was something liberating about exploring, even if the exploring was nearby.
“We are so lucky to live here,” Angeni said. The trees were a blur of green in the periphery of her vision.
“We are,” Aurora said.
They turned right on Dock Street and parked where the road ended. This was the not-so-secret access point for Manzanita Bay. Ahead of them, two people were unloading kayaks from their car. They exchanged greetings as they passed, the woman doing a double take at Angeni. Angeni waited for her to say “Aren’t you ...” but thankfully, she didn’t. When she was a child, Angeni had said she wanted nothing more than to be famous. But now, upon reflection, she decided the root of it was a desire to be seen. She had become famous, if fame was defined by Instagram follower counts. Her aversion to writing the memoir her editor wanted revealed that she was not yet brave enough to be seen.
The tide in the bay was low, exposing a wide shoreline littered with pebbles, crab legs, and oyster shells. Aurora sat on a piece of driftwood that Mother Nature had provided as the perfect bench. She reached down, collected a handful of pebbles, turned them over in her palm. The kayakers walked past them and placed their kayaks in the water before climbing in and pushing off with a friendly wave.
Angeni sat next to Aurora on the driftwood. She lifted Freya from the carrier and turned her around to face the water.
“So I wanted to talk to you,” Angeni said. She bounced Freya in her lap gently.
“I wanted to talk to you too,” Aurora said.
They made these proclamations while staring ahead at the water, not at each other.
“I want to ask you something,” Angeni said. “And I want you to know that I am at peace with whatever your answer is. I’ve thought about it a lot. I want us to have a compassionate conversation about it.”
Now Aurora looked at her, dread and concern all over her face. “What is it?”
“Did you write that letter that came in the mail?”
Aurora looked confused and then flabbergasted. “Me?You thinkIwrote it?”
Angeni had never heard such a defensive tone from her before. It meant that she was either very wrong about her suspicion, or very right.
“Beck, you’re the only one who knows what happened,” she said.
It was only after she’d said Aurora’s birth name that she realized she’d said it. It was a trick of the brain. She was thinking back to that day, remembering the sound of the gunshot, the blood, her mother dying—and it was not Aurora by her side then, but Becky.
“I didn’t send it,” Aurora said. “I can’t believe you think I’d do that. Why would I do that?”
She seemed hurt, so hurt that it made Angeni doubt her accusation. Still, she returned to the indisputable fact: “But you’re the only one who knows what happened,” she repeated. “Did you tell someone else?”
Aurora shook her head. “Of course not,” she said with conviction. “I know who sent it, though.”
Angeni’s throat tightened. “Who?”
“I saw some text messages on Sitka’s phone. Between her and someone named Jay, who said he’d sent the letter.”
Freya squirmed in Angeni’s lap as Angeni attempted to process this information.
“Jay?”
“Someone Sitka knows,” Aurora said. “I think she came into our lives with ... ill intentions.”
Angeni got to her feet abruptly, holding Freya against her chest.
“No,” she said. “How in the world would Sitka and this Jay person know about what happened with my mother?”
“I have no idea,” Aurora said.
“No, this is a misunderstanding,” Angeni said.
She walked toward the water’s edge, stared across the bay at Arrow Point. Was Aurora making this up as a way to turn Angeni against Sitka? Was she capable of such manipulation?
“There’s something else,” Aurora said, still seated on the driftwood behind Angeni. Aurora’s voice was small and tentative, and Angeni held Freya tighter in anticipation of what was next.
