The Boston Globe.
I held steady.Coincidence,I told myself.Guilty conscience,I told myself. There was still a chance I was wrong. When she ducked her head to peer under my bangs, though, I knew I was not.
“Mackenzie Cooper,” she breathed, a question but not.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t dare.
“I had no idea, none. I’msosorry,” she said with true feeling, and when I didn’t react, added, “About your daughter.”
At least her priorities were right. But this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. It wasn’t one I was prepared for, though I should have been. I should have known it would occur one day. But what kind of person assumed nightmares came true and had an actual, viable plan of attack?
Actually, most people would. I hadn’t, because even though my mind had known it might happen, my heart denied it. Even with Edward’s coming and my heightened fear of exposure, I hadn’t thought far enough to know how to react.
So I focused on breathing. I didn’t want to make it obvious; the tightness in my chest was only starting.
“I remember when you first got here,” Nina went on in a voice that was kind enough. “It wasn’t so long after me, maybe two years, but those first few times we worked together, you were quieter. I can’t imagine what you went through, Maggie.” She paused. “Maggie? Mackenzie?”
As the question hung, I wanted to curse Edward for coming to town and curse Jack Quillmer for interviewing him. I wanted to curse Nina for nosing around online, but it was done. And yet—and yet I couldn’t quite get myself to acknowledge Mackenzie.
Nina seemed oblivious to my angst, clearly blinded by her own need to know. “If you and Ned are divorced, why is he here? Were you always in touch, even after you moved?”
Stay or run? I didn’t know which to do, but my feet didn’t move, so I was momentarily trapped. My chest wasn’t getting worse. But it wasn’t getting better. And now I felt a tremor deep in my gut. Wrapping my arms around my waist to hold things steady, I drew in a slow breath and, slowly, let it out.
“I go back to Cleveland to see my parents,” she went on, “and my sister comes here every so often, but you’ve never left for long or had anyone here to visit—ah, but yourbrother.” Her eyes widened in realization. “How didthatcome about?”
I felt no pressure to answer. She was doing just fine on her own.
“He showed up right around the time Ned did, and he’s going to be running a restaurant owned by the Inn group. That can’t be a coincidence.”
No shit, Sherlock,I thought.
“Was it all part of a plan—you come here first to get set up and make sure it was the right place?”
I was incredulous.
But she seemed oblivious to that, too. “Do you have other family—like, parents? I didn’t read about them being around.”
I took the deepest breath yet, closing my eyes for a second longer than a blink. My exhale sounded like a sigh. Nina wasn’t good with girlfriends. She had told me that, herself. But if she had an ounce of innate compassion, she would have shut up. Her questions were tedious. Actually, her questions wereinfuriating.She had to see that I didn’t want to talk, had to see that her questions were causing me pain. If this was her idea of being assertive, I could understand why strong women got a bad name, which was patently unfair, since persistence was a good trait. But to be persistent at the expense of human decency?
“I think I should leave,” I said as levelly as I could with my insides unsteady and my anger rising.
“Is Ned why you’ve never dated? Do you love him?”
“Nina…”
“Why four years? And whyDevon?” she asked. “From what I read, you had a life filled with people, but you’ve been alone here. How do you do it?”
That was it, one question too many. “Is there a point to this?” I asked sharply and was startled when her voice became a hoarse whisper.
“There is. I had a life filled with people, too, but I don’t here. Here I have respect and anonymity and nice people and perfect makeup”—desperation appeared in her eyes—“and ashitloadof hours all alone with nothing to do but relive the past, which I can’t do a thing to change. It’slonely and depressing, and I know you know what I mean. You’ve been on the unfair side of life, so you have to know the anger of it, and coming here is both the best thing and the worst. It’s an escape but not. I want to know how you do it. I need help, Maggie—and I call you Maggie, because it’s the name of someone I trust. I don’t care what happened in Boston. How do you do it here, now?”
I might have laughed hysterically. Was she was actually looking for help fromme? All the care I’d taken to protect my identity, to protect myheart,to what end? I’d royally botched it.
The thought lasted for only a split second, because just then Edward emerged from the innards of the Inn, passed Joyce’s desk with a small pat—like a thank-you for calling him—and joined us.
The hand that touched my back was light, but not so light that I didn’t feel it. I sought his eyes, actually hoping their pale-blue would take me to Lily and dampen my anger. But those eyes were all Edward, whom I liked but didn’t, whom I wanted but didn’t, and who by any account had helped cause this mess.
“Everything okay here?” he asked Nina.
