Page 162 of Never Forever

“Sorry,” I shouted over the wind. “My name is Carrie.”

“I know. I saw your last movie.” She shouted back.

Okay. She knew me. We could work with this.

“My family lives on the island,” I said.

“So you’re Bernadette’s granddaughter.”

“Berna…Gran? How do you know Gran?”

She scowled and I wondered if Gran chased this woman off our property with a gun at some point. It was entirely likely.

We reached the dock on the island and after the initial jostle we both stood. “Anyway, it was a pleasure meeting you,” she said and walked toward the gangway.

“Would you like to come up to the house to have a cup of tea?”

“Is Bernadette there?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Oh my gosh, did Gran pull a gun on you? I swear they are not loaded.”

She let out a long sigh. “No. My family vacationed here for years. Bernadette and I were…friends for a few summers before her father sent her to a Catholic boarding school. She was no longer interested in being my friend.”

Oh. Oh no. Matt was coming and she was his favorite author and I just needed to get her inside the house until he got here. Could I lock Gran in her room so Matt could meet his absolute favorite author?

I was not proud of what I did then, but there had to be a perk to being pregnant with twins and being big as a house.

With Meryl Streep like skill I groaned and curled over my belly.

“Are you…are you all right?” she asked, her hand on my shoulder. “Is it the baby?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Oh dear. Let me get help. Get you back to the mainland.”

“No. No, I just need to get to the house,” I said, pointing at the stone house visible over the tree line.

“Are you sure, because…”

I groaned again, laying it on thick. “Yes. I just need to sit somewhere warm.”

“Okay. Okay. Here, lean against me,” she said and helped me down the gangway to the pier. Carlos looked after me, concerned. I turned and mouthed “I’m fine” to him over my shoulder and then “Don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry?” Stockard asked.

“Let’s hurry.”

For a NYT #1 Bestseller who was somewhere in her seventies, she could move. Soon we were climbing the rebuilt deck and pushing open the refurbished wooden door.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I said, and there was a chorus from the back kitchen. Mom came rushing out first to greet me, Gran hot on her heels.

“Hello,” Stockard said. “Carrie seems to be in some pain.”

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked. “Is it the babies? Do you need a doctor?”

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