“He went to Tampa for some finance conference,” Maggie told her. “He left this morning and is only due back tomorrow night.”
Linda closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh, goodness.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Thank goodness for Rosa. Thank goodness, thank goodness.”
“Yes, I know.” Maggie nodded.
They fell into a tense silence, their eyes trained on the door that would eventually bring the doctor with news of Uncle George.
Maggie was first to break it as she reached over and took her free hand. “Linda,” she said, and her voice was very gentle, “we have to talk about George.”
“What about him?” Linda’s head shot up.
“Linda, he needs more help than he’s been letting on. He has for a while.” Her eyes held Linda’s.
Linda stared at her best friend. Maggie’s eyes were full of an old, tired affection. She drew in a deep breath, and her heart slammed against her ribs as guilt exploded through her because Linda had known. But she’d been so busy with her own life falling to pieces that she’d told herself Uncle George was still quite capable.
“I know,” Linda admitted quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “To be honest, I’ve known for a while. I just didn’t want to know it.”
“None of us did,” Maggie told her. “I also turned a blind eye whenever I popped in to see him every week.” She shook her head slowly. “Tom and I spoke about this last week when Martin told us the hotel was losing customers.”
“Why?” Linda’s eyes widened.
“The place needs…” Before they could continue, Tom came back with the kids. They’re hands full of cookies and soda, with big smiles.
“I should have come sooner,” Linda whispered before they got closer.
“We’ll talk later,” Maggie promised, and Linda nodded.
“Tom, what have you done?” Linda asked, looking accusingly at him.
“It’s been a long day for them,” Tom said with a charming smile. “I thought something nice would make up for the something horrible part of today.”
“Don’t worry, Gran,” Jake told her. “We won’t eat everything now.”
“We’re going to put some away for tomorrow,” Sophia said with a grin.
“It’s okay,” Linda said with a sigh. Tom was right. A few cookies and candies were okay. “Just don’t eat too much, as you still have to have dinner, and I promised you pizza from the best pizza place in the world.”
“Sweet Bay Pizza,” Sophia and Jake chorused, taking their seats before Linda. Tom sat on the other side of Jake.
“Still no news?” Tom looked at them, glancing at the door hopefully.
“Nope,” Maggie answered before Linda could.
Linda thought about Uncle George trying to change a lightbulb on a step ladder by himself. She thought about her own house, packed up and gone. She thought about Richard’s wedding at the end of the summer, and the empty bank accounts, and the long, uncertain road of trying to start over at fifty-nine. She glanced at her grandchildren, and they seemed happy to be here. They always loved visiting Uncle George. Who wouldn’t want to come to Sweet Blossom Bay, which was the most incredible seaside community for kids, for adults, for retirees? It was a specialplace. Linda thought, very quietly, that maybe coming home wasn’t a detour after all. Maybe coming home was the road itself.
The double doors at the end of the waiting room opened.
A man in surgical scrubs came through. His mask was pulled down around his neck. His expression gave nothing away as he glanced around the room. His eyes found Tom first, then Linda, who had risen to her feet without realizing it, with Maggie standing beside her, Tom beside Maggie, and the three of them holding each other’s hands without quite knowing whose hand was whose.
The surgeon walked toward them.
DARIUS
Darius gripped the steering wheel of the SUV with one hand and rolled his shoulder with the other, working out the small ache that had set in somewhere around the third hour. The highway stretched ahead of him in the long gold light of late afternoon, and Florida went by the windows in long flat green panels of sawgrass and palmetto, the way it had been going by for most of the drive.
In the seat beside him, Isabel was watching the landscape with a small softness around her mouth that Darius hadn’t seen on his sister’s face in three years. She wasn’t reading. She wasn’t tapping at her phone. She was just looking out at the world going past her window, the way a person looked out at the world when they were trying to remember what it had felt like to enjoy it.
In the back seat, Emma had been chattering happily for nearly an hour straight, and right now they were discussing the weird crabs on the beach.
