“Or that … will work,” Simon finished.
The address wasn’t far away. Shanna’s new friends marked the shortest route on her fold-up map, and she spread it out as they headed back across the city center, closer to the hill with the cable car.
“The shortcut is marked here.” Shanna directed them up a slight slope, through a less busy part of the city. The road straddled a park at first, then opened into a rose garden with a glasshouse and a fountain in the middle, bordered by low hedges.
“Oh, it’s so pretty.” Shanna went straight for the garden.
With a delay, but no complaints, Chris followed. The tattoo on Simon’s wrist soon yanked him, and he gave in to the distraction with a sigh.
Even in fall, the garden was beautiful. A couple of the bushes had begun to dry off, their petals lying on the surrounding grass, but most were still in bloom. Shanna zipped from one to the other—velvety red, yellow with pink stripes, ones the color of the Malibu sunset cocktail—leaning down and smelling the flowers, her hair spilling over her shoulders.
Chris appeared next to Simon. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“What for?”
“It has a better camera, and I want to take a picture of her.”
“Shanna?”
“Yeah. Look.” She tugged on his sleeve, whispering as if they were two safari hunters observing a timid antelope. “Her windbreaker goes perfectly with the scenery.”
It did. How hadn’t he noticed it? It had a big pattern of colorful roses on a teal background—almost the same as the rose garden. It was funny, but more than that, it was … adorable.
He handed the phone over to Chris.
“Wow, you reduced the shutter lag,” she said, crouching down as she snapped the photos.
Was there any random subject she wasn’t an expert on?
“Here you go.” Chris returned the phone. “My artistic streak is satisfied.”
“Uh … no problem?”
Shanna approached them. “Shall we? It’s just down the side of the hill.”
“Sure.” Simon quickly hid the phone.
A windy walking path led them past high-growing pines and stouter trees with meaty, waxy leaves. At the bottom, they crossed the road only to head up another hill and into a suburban street lined with two-story houses with matching white clapboard facades.
“It’s that one,” Chris said. “I recognize the railing of the balcony.”
“What do you mean, you recognize—” Shanna waved her hand. “I probably shouldn’t ask.”
As they rang the doorbell, sudden tingles of nervousness spread through Simon’s stomach, as if he were the one coming to look for his long-lost parent—or a trail of one, at least.
“Yes?” A woman opened the door. The perm from the photo had changed to a bob haircut, and she wasn’t dressed as a waitress anymore, but there was no doubt this was the same person.
“Holly?” Shanna said. “This is going to sound incredibly strange, but twenty years ago, you worked with a woman named Isabel atThe Winded Keapub. You won’t remember her—”
“I’m sorry, what?” Holly furrowed her eyebrows.
“I’m looking for—well, not for her anymore, but her last whereabouts.”
Holly looked from one to the other. “I don’t remember any Isabel, sorry.” She made a move to close the door.
“Please,” Shanna said. “She’s my mom.”
Holly paused, biting her lip.
