Something changed in Mrs. Crawley’s demeanor then. A fresh vulnerability coupled with—admiration?
“I have a good memory, too.” She lifted her necklace from under her shirt, freeing the pendant so it hung down her front. It glinted in the light. It was the same color as Chat’s eyes.
Augie felt a connection tug between them.
“Sometimes, I hate my memory. How I can’t forget certain things.”
Augie studied her. She looked younger without makeup, lighter.
“Like the night Trey broke up with me. I’ve never been so heartbroken in my life. He was the one who ended it, you know. I know the story makes it sound like I left him, fled Latvia, but he made me go.”
Augie stayed quiet, listening.
“I didn’t explain that to Chat or Bill. Call it my ego, maybe. I don’t like to talk about it. Trey basically told me he didn’t deserve me. And one night, he pulled my suitcase from the closet... He said he couldn’t give me the life I wanted. He didn’t deserve happiness. He said I needed to leave, and he was sorry. Like that was enough.” She glanced up at the sun. “I was devastated, but I couldn’t fight him. I had no choice. I left in the middle of the night. I haven’t seen him since.”
Augie felt her skin tighten with sympathy.
“All I ever wanted was a family,” she continued. “That safety and security. Love. My own family was such a mess.”
Mrs. Crawley let out a long, low sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Augie suddenly said. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Crawley straightened. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But it feels good to finally talk about it all. I hope it helps you understand my perspective, too. How seeing Chat, being reminded of Trey, after all these years, I just...” Her voice dissolved.
“I get it.” It was true. It made sense now, her obsession with Chat. How odd it must have been to have him in her life and home—a ghost of the past. All that pain surfacing. The sick relief of it. While Augie had never experienced such heartbreak, she knew what it was like to bury memories—and how it felt to let them out.
“I’m also sorry,” Augie said as Mrs. Crawley shifted in her seat, “for this summer. For going over to your house, for the luau. For... spilling on you at that happy hour.”
Mrs. Crawley’s smile ticked higher until they were both grinning at each other.
“Apology accepted.” She leaned forward. Then she tapped the table with both hands and stood up. “Well, I think that’s enough. Before I go, one last thing.” She picked up her tote bag and slung it onto her shoulder.
“Bill is headed to Hilton Head next week, and I’m going to the cabin with the boys to work on my design firm. The house will be empty, and Chat isn’t leaving quite yet. So if you’d like to stay there with him while we’re away, well, you’re invited.”
Augie’s mind went blank, but a beat later, it filled with a supercut of her and Chat in the Crawleys’ mansion: images of them snuggling in the movie theater room, swimming in the pool, laughing at the bar—spending all day in bed.
Mrs. Crawley nodded to the parking lot. “He’s in the car, by the way. He’s excited to see you. Probably for ice cream, too. So, Augie.”She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet. A twenty-dollar bill. “Let me get this.”
Augie stared at the money. Immediately, she thought back to the baby shower—that haphazard tip. She wasn’t sure how to read this final gesture. Was this her last power play? Her final way of taking control?
But whatever it was, Augie realized she didn’t care. She’d let Mrs. Crawley have this one. That felt like power, too. She’d take a free ice cream.
She plucked the cash from Mrs. Crawley’s fingers.
As Augie sat back down on the bench and stared up at the clouds, steadying herself and ruminating on the rawness of the moment, she heard a voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder, her chin against her bare, tanned skin.
“I hope you don’t hate me for that. For any of this,” Chat said sheepishly. He stood a few yards from the bench as if afraid to come too close, a stretch of grass between them.
Augie stood up to face him.
“I don’t hate you.”
His eyes brightened as he stepped forward. He wore a red St. Cloud T-shirt, a reminder of the past—the truth.
“Do you still think she’s a bad person?”
Augie twisted her mouth.
