Shutting the door, she changed into her nightgown, leaned the crutches against the nightstand, and slid into what had been her mother’s bed, knowing that if CiCi—of all people—had said she’d had a good life, Maddie certainly had, too.
She turned off the light on the nightstand. But when she closed her eyes, Maddie would have sworn someone had been watching her. Again.
* * *
It was dark now. Inside the cottage and out. But it had been good to sit outside the kitchen, below an open window, and listen to the conversation between Maddie andCiCi.People say such interesting things when they think no one else is listening.
It was too bad about my lost thermos, however. Iced coffee would have made sitting and listening more enjoyable.
Chapter 20
Wednesday morning, Maddie knew she had to make a few calls before starting to sort the kitchen things and before obsessing about lunch the next day with Rex.Lunch, she reminded herself. That was all.
Taking her grandmother’s seersucker robe out of the trash pile, she pulled it on over her nightgown. The fabric was frayed at the collar and the cuffs and carried a musty scent mixed with an essence of salt air. Maddie wondered if all of Grandma’s clothes—and maybe Grandma, too—had the same fragrance.
She tucked her phone into the pocket of the robe, then hauled herself to the kitchen, made coffee, and decided to eat half of the remaining blueberry muffin. After getting her breakfast to the table without spilling or dumping it, she took the same chair that she’d sat in last night when talking with CiCi. Then she closed her eyes and sent good vibes of gratitude to the universe that her foot was one day closer to being healed.
After breakfast, she checked her phone for the news (there wasn’t much), the weather (sunny, warm), and the stock market (because she should start educating herself for when her inheritance came through). Then it was ten o’clock, a reasonable time to tend to her “must-dos.”
She was beginning to feel like a robot.
So she went to her contact list, scrolled to Evelyn’s name, and called her.
“Good morning, Maddie!” the woman said when she answered on the first ring. Her cheerful voice could have been genuine or fake, depending on what she wanted Maddie to believe.
“Good morning. You sound perky. Feeling better?”
“I am. Thank you. As much as I hate my down days, I try to roll with them because usually the next day is better.”
“That’s good advice. Even when people aren’t in your situation.”
“To be honest, sometimes I’m downright miserable to be around. Ask my son. No. Please don’t.” She laughed. “But today is a good day. How areyou? How did your appointment go?”
“He says my foot is healing well. And that I need to be patient.”
“How does it actually feel?”
“It no longer hurts. Well, hardly at all. But I’m afraid it still has a way to go.”
“Then your intuition is telling you something, dear. Your ancestors would tell you to listen to it.”
Of course she meant the ancestors on Maddie’s mother’s side. Then Maddie wondered why Evelyn had mentioned intuition. . . and if she was hinting at something . . . else. But it was an awkward topic for Maddie. One her father had never understood. So Maddie just said, “Thank you, Evelyn. That’s more good advice.”
“Now that I’m seventy, Brandon calls it wisdom. Which makes me sound old. He thinks that’s funny. So,” she said, her exasperation with her son having sounded both loving and annoyed, “how’s the cleaning out going? I can’t imagine all the things Nancy collected over the years.”
“I think a better word than ‘collected’ might simply be ‘saved.’ Newspapers, magazines, Wampanoag recipes. They must have meant something to her. But . . . let’s just say when I get back to Green Hills I shall purge my own boxes of stuff. I want to save my son from having to do this someday. Thankfully, most of my detritus is on the computer, so he can dump the whole thing in a bin.” She hoped she sounded upbeat and not critical of Grandma.
“Speaking of Rafe,” she continued, “he won’t be here until Friday or Saturday. I need a few things from Cronig’s to hold me over until then, but if you’re not up for driving, I’ll call Lisa. Maybe she can get them on her way home from work.”
Evelyn sighed. “I’m sorry, dear. As much as I’d love to help—and to see you—my book group is meeting here at noon today. We were going to Mary Beth Braga’s, but I don’t want to drive to Edgartown. Not after the day I had yesterday.”
“So, you really aren’t as perky as you’re trying to sound.”
“You’re getting to know me well, Madelyn.”
“Well, then, there is something I really would like your help with. But we can do it by phone. Maybe this evening? Or tomorrow?”
“What is it?”
