Be in the moment. Connect.
She could ask him more about his childhood with his brothers; she could let him ramble on about Saint Stephen’s Green. She could let him think she was anyone he wanted her to be: mother, sister, aunt, niece, friend.
But she doesn’t want to do that.
“Kristie,” she says. “Kristie Turner. I know you know that name.” Her voice is too sharp, and a woman at the next table, eating by herself, glances over. Louisa looks down, ashamed. “Sorry, Daddy.” She takes a minute, and they both eat. Louisa opens her father’s bag of potato chips and sets them beside him. “But you do have another daughter. Kristie Turner. Mom told me about her. Her mother is Sheila. Kristie is ten years younger than I am.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do, though, Daddy. You do.” She’s pleading with him now, but she’s also getting frustrated.
And: there. She can see the second she went too far; it’s practically visible, a black dot on the day, a marker.
“I don’t! Stop bothering me with all of this talk. Nonsense is what it is! Nonsense.” He pushes away his lobster roll, and in so doing knocks over his water bottle. She rights the bottle but too late: the water has pooled on the table and is dripping into Martin’s lap. “Goddamn,” he says. “All over my pants.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s only water. It’s okay. Come on, let’s get back to the car.” She mops up the spill and shuttles the rest of their food into the garbage and gets her father into the car. Her hands are shaking, and she can feel that her forehead is shiny with sweat.
The ride home is excruciating: Island Road has never felt so long, and Louisa can’t enjoy any of the scenery through South Thomaston. Martin is silent, staring out the window, and because she can’t see his face she can’t read his expression. She knows better. She’s read countless articles. Annie gave her specific instructions. Don’t agitate. She knows better!
“What happened?” says Annie when they get home. “Louisa, did you say something to confuse him?”
“I’m sorry,” whispers Louisa. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just wanted...”
“What? You wanted what, Louisa?”
“I don’t know.” An explanation? An apology? What?
“Here comes Barbara now,” says Annie. The tires of Barbara’s red Taurus chew up the gravel, and when Barbara emerges Annie motions her over.
“I want to change my pants,” says Martin.
“Of course, sweetheart. Of course. Look, here’s Barbara. She can help you with that.”
When Barbara has taken Martin inside Annie turns to Louisa and hisses at her, “You brought her up, didn’t you?”
“Mom, I—”
“I told you to leave well enough alone, Louisa. Didn’t I tell you that?”
Annie disappears inside the house and closes the door behind her, leaving Louisa standing in the front yard. Her mother is right.She should have left well enough alone. She feels so bereft and so confused and, well, so ashamed, that when her phone rings and she sees Steven’s name on the screen she answers it. Maybe she can talk to him about it. They haven’t even had a chance to fully pick apart the bombshell that is Kristie’s existence. Louisa didn’t get through Greta the Gatekeeper until the day after she found out (was Steven now sleeping at the studio?), and so she’d had to tell him in a text. A text! She walks around the side yard. No sign of Matty on the rocks now, but Claire and Abigail are still at it with the friendship bracelets, so she moves over to the far side of the yard, near the vegetable garden, and fixes her eyes on the staked tomato plants.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey! You answered. Good. I have something I want to tell you.”
“I have something I want to tell you too,” she says. Her heart expands with hope. Steven will understand that she didn’t mean any harm with her father—and he’ll also understand that she wants Martin to acknowledge the big secret. Steven will be on her side, and even if he thinks she went too far with her dad he’ll be kind enough to keep that thought to himself. She looks up from the garden to find a sailboat gliding west to east and the Vinalhaven ferry gliding east to west. She takes a deep breath.
In that breath Steven says, “I don’t need the money any more. The Emergency Fund. We figured it out in-house. So I’m really sorry that I caused all of that strife between us, Louisa. I really am. You’re absolutely right. We shouldn’t touch that fund for anything. It’s sacred, only for absolute and true emergencies. It’s for the future.”
“Sacred might be going one bridge too far—” says Louisa. (If there are no other claims on the fund, she might still be able to persuade Steven to agree to invest in saving Ships View—maybe once he gets up here. Once he sees.) “I think the main point I was trying to make was that mixing business funds with personal finances isdangerous. But we can talk about that later. Tell me. How’d you figure out the money? Did everyone in the company commit to selling plasma and bone marrow?”
“Ha! No. I didn’t think of that. But we’ll definitely keep it in mind if we need another round.”
“Did Greta decide to become a surrogate for a wealthy couple on the Upper West Side?” (Greta probably had gorgeous, untroubled eggs, brimming with youth and optimism.)
“Louisa!”
“I’m sorry. I’m joking. Obviously. What happened, really? Did you find another investor?”
