“You may be right. But would it hurt to see what he has to say?”
“Why should I put myself back in the line of fire? He’s still mad I don’t want to work at the mill. Last time we talked, he was all over me about it.”
“He may have something else on his mind now.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know—and you won’t either, unless you call him.”
Silence.
She tried again. “If you don’t want to call, you could always text.”
“I’ll think about it. So you doing okay?”
The discussion about Martin was over. And trying to prolong it could undermine her attempt to initiate a new start with her son.
“Yes. Learning the ropes at the library and dipping my toes into social life in Hope Harbor. I always wanted to get more involved in the activities in town.” She’d save the show news for another day.
“Dad won’t be happy about that. He always acted like we were better than everyone else. You may have to convince people you’re not a snob.”
A very possible and intimidating prospect.
“I guess I’ll find out. Will you stay in touch, Lucas? Tell me what you decide to do about your dad?”
“Yeah. I’ll text you.”
“That’ll work. Take care of yourself.”
“You too. Bye, Mom.”
As he ended the call, Diane pocketed her phone, wandered back to the table, and cleared up the trash from her dinner.
Too bad it wasn’t as easy to sweep the past clean.
But she was making progress with Lucas, and whatever the motivation for Martin’s outreach to their son, perhaps it would lead to a positive result.
An outcome certainly worth praying for on this beautiful Sunday afternoon.
“I have meatloaf from the Myrtle!” Devyn called out the news as she entered the house.
When there was no response, her pulse picked up.
Had Lauren gone wandering again, despite her promise not to leave the house unaccompanied for the immediate future?
She continued to the kitchen, set the takeout containers on the counter, and tried to tamp down her worry.
Yesterday’s little foray to the wharf had knocked her sister flat for three hours after she returned. She’d barely made it to the bedroom before her eyelids slammed closed.
Confirmation that while walking was all fine and good, as Dr. Sherman and the physical therapist who came twice a week had said, going all the way to the wharf alone had been a bad decision.
Lauren hadn’t been in the mood to hear that when she’d arrived home, however. Nor had she wanted to listen to reason after she’d finally roused for dinner. If not for a threat to bring in extra help to keep an eye on her, it was doubtful she’d have agreed to stay put unless someone went with her.
So where was she now?
A quick pass through the house provided no clues, nor had Lauren left a note about going out, as she had yesterday.
Circuit completed, Devyn stopped in the middle of the living room, fists on hips.
