My chiming phone cut through the feeling that I was in a bizarre funhouse; I pulled it out of my pocket and was confused to see a call fromLa Maison d’Annie. Was it Tara? Or one of the other nurses? Annie rarely called me from her room’s landline anymore. I mostly called her.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Connor, already half-heading for the exit. The last thing I wanted was to send Annie to voicemail. “My grandmother’s calling me. Will you keep an eye on the twins?”
“Of course.” Connor nodded. “Tell her I say hello.”
“She doesn’t know who you are,” I tried to joke, but the words cut deep—deeper than Connor knew.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said as my eyes started to sting. “I still say hello.”
“I will,” I said, and only when I turned away did I realize we hadn’t taken my picture for Annie.
Fifteen
I worried something was really wrong. My heart hammered as I swerved through the carousel chaos and darted across the arcade-filled lobby. “Hello!” I burst out the front door on the final ring. “Tara?”
“Tara?” a familiar voice replied—a warm voice, a kind voice, my favorite voice. “Whyever do you think I’mTara?”
I felt myself melt into a smile. “Hi, Annie.”
“Dearest,” she said. “How are you?”
“How areyou?” I asked, hoping to gauge where her head was. She sounded likeherself, but I still wanted to manage my expectations.
“I’m wonderful,” she answered. “The weather’s beautiful today, so Fliss Williams and I took a long walk on the trails…”
Okay, not bad, I thought. Nottrue—Annie wasn’t allowed to freely wander Elkins Village anymore, or even walk with only a friend—but not bad. Fliss occasionally visited my grandmother in Finlay for a cup or two of tea.
“And then we had tea in my room.”
I released a relieved breath.There we go.
“She justlovesthe photo books Erica makes for me,” she said. “Today I showed herA Night to Remember.”
A Night to Rememberwas a collection of my high school dance shots. Pictures of me before homecoming, the winter SnowBall, junior prom, senior prom, etc. Erica and I had fun, actually, picking out the photos together.
“Well, you can expect another one soon,” I told her, speed-walking along the sidewalk. There had to be a bench somewhere. “I’ve been taking a lot of pictures…”
And so had Erica. “Don’t worry,” I’d overheard my stepmother tell her sister the other day, when Beth had given her a look for snapping shots of the cousins playing an intense game of croquet and another of the delicious summer lasagna Peggy had made for dinner.Influencer-ing, are we?Beth’s expression read. “They’re for Annette, not social media.”
“Yeah, relax, Beth,” Jay had chimed in. “It’s not like people are going to stalk us for Mom’s lasagna recipe!”
Not stalk, I thought, feathers a little ruffled on her behalf.But if Erica shares a photo, followerswillask.
I wondered if her siblings had even seen her Instagram.
“I can’t wait,” Annie said now, as I settled on a bench near the Steamship Authority. With today’s cloudy sky, the ocean looked more green than blue. “How are the Outer Banks?”
Just go with it, I told myself, biting the tip of my fingernail.Just go with the flow. Surf the Outer Banks wavelength.
But for some reason, I couldn’t.
“We’re on Martha’s Vineyard, Annie,” I gently said. “Not the Outer Banks.”
The line was quiet.
I counted my heartbeats.One…two…three…
“Yes, forgive me,” my grandmother said slowly, a line she hadn’t used in ages. “I remember you mentioning that.”
