Page 23 of Lost in the Moonlight

“Arizona. In ten minutes, we’re leaving for lunch with the governor.”

“You’re schlepping around in sweats, then,” I teased, knowing she was done up elegantly in a perfectly fitted dress suit. Just like I knew her brown hair layered with highlights of cherry wine and gold would be coiled neatly at her nape. Her light-blue eyes framed by expertly sculpted brows would sparkle and charm whomever they were with, her lean, tall frame standing regally at Dad’s side as if she’d inherited the posture from her English-royal ancestors. My twin sisters had inherited her looks, while I took after my father. Dad got his code name of Gibbs from his resemblance to the actor who played theNCIScharacter.

She huffed out a laugh and then asked, “How’s Cherry Bay?”

Entrancing. Captivating. I’d felt that way about the town even before Willow had shown up and added another layer of interest to it all. Instead of saying any or all of that, I simply said, “I started painting.”

“Lincoln…that’s wonderful, darling.” Her voice was full of emotions. The press had nicknamed Mom theIce Queendecades ago when nothing they said ruffled her feathers. But she’d never once been that way at home. My sisters and I had always felt the full force of our parents’ love. Even when their lives were chaotic and busy, they’d always made time for us. They showed up when it mattered. They were front seat at Katerina’s plays and Juliette’s academic decathlons and in attendance at as many gallery showings as they could manage. They’d been the first ones at the hospital the night Sienna had died.

“You know how it is. You’ll likely hear less from me while the painting works its way through my system,” I told her.

“You’re sleeping enough?” she asked.

“I’m getting used to the change in my environment,” I said instead of lying. “You won’t recognize the house when you see it again.”

“After California, we’ll be back in D.C. We’ll get a trip down there on our schedule.”

“It’s a busy time for you right now. Save it for the gallery opening.”

“Do you have a date?” She sounded surprised.

“No,” I chuckled. “But it has to be soon. Otherwise, I’ll be in the red before I even open the doors.”

I was proud of the fact Sienna’s gallery had been profitable after its first year, and I had no intention of the gallery here leaching into it. I was using the salary I’d paid myself to start up this one, and while I could lean into my trust fund, it was the lastthing I wanted. I had every intention of passing my trust down to the next generation of Mathertons in better shape than I’d inherited it.

“Trish is waving me toward the door,” Mom said with a sigh. “Try to respond to me once in a while so I don’t have to worry quite as much.”

“I’m good, Mom. Just concentrate on getting Dad through this last campaign.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” she said quietly. In those words, I heard all the pride and relief my sisters and I felt, but I also heard sadness. For my parents, it was an era coming to an end. I couldn’t really imagine their lives without politics. What would they do when every minute was no longer carefully choreographed and accounted for?

“It’ll be done in five years, Mom. You’ll both have done your time.”

“You know we don’t see it that way. It’s been an honor to serve.”

And wasn’t that just the crux of it? I’d always seen Dad’s career as a burden while they’d seen it as a gift. A duty they happily fulfilled. An attempt to protect a nation that didn’t always deserve it.

Maybe protection was in our blood.

After hanging up with I love yous in the air, I returned to the office and the security system. It wasn’t my responsibility to look after Willow, not even considering my past and the failures hanging over me, but it was a duty I would happily and willingly perform.

? ? ?

After searching the internet for anything I could find on Poco and coming up empty—the man didn’t even have a social media account—I turned to Willow and was surprised to find she didn’t have any either. At least, there were no accounts with her real name. I tried a few different usernames like ‘Cherry Bay baker’ and such before giving up. In today’s day and age, it was odd to have no accounts. No footprint at all. Didn’t everyone leave some kind of trail?

I didn’t know her mother’s first name, but when I searched for a Cherry Bay teacher with the name Earhart, an article came up in the local paper. It was about a science decathlon Erica Earhart’s students had recently won and how they were moving on to the state championships. What was odd was that there wasn’t an image of her in the paper or on the high school’s staff directory.

Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

My stomach growled loud enough to jerk me from my online search.

When was the last time I’d eaten? The scone this morning, but what had I had the day before?

Nothing. My refrigerator was empty except for a few condiment jars I’d brought with me from the D.C. condo. I needed to go grocery shopping, but I had no intention of doing so tonight.

I could order in, but escaping from the rabbit hole I’d journeyed down was the better option. I found my keys on the desk, grabbed the baseball cap from the coatrack by the door, and headed out into the fading sunshine.

Across the street, a well-used Pathfinder now sat along the curb in front of Willow’s cottage. My stomach tighteneduncomfortably, desire and concern mixing. Was it her mother’s car? Some man’s?

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