Page 51 of Before the Storm

Tara decided the time was now to be frivolous. When she told the woman behind the counter they wanted a convertible, the woman chuckled but booked it immediately. Because Josie refused to ride anywhere on the go-cart the airport had handy (she was too proud, Tara guessed), it took another five minutes to find the car, and once there, Josie begged Tara to put down the top so she could “feel the wind through her hair.” Tara cackled as Josie strung her fingers through her downy hair.

Tara put the top down and drove slowly through the fifty-five-degree day. They were bundled up with Nantucket winter gear, and the later afternoon sunlight was like a benediction,drawing them into their mother and father’s adopted world. Tara wondered if, when Cindy and Bob had moved out here, they’d driven all the way from the East Coast or if they’d flown to that very airport and gotten off and said,We’ll start a new life.

Tara wanted to get a hotel room first, but Josie insisted they head to their father’s wake.

“It’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Josie said. “If we go back to the hotel, I’ll sit around feeling nervous, and you’ll find a way to back out.”

Tara sighed. “I do tend to back out, don’t I?”

Josie typed their parents’ address into her phone, and a woman’s voice gave them directions, guiding them around the chaos of the inner city to a quaint neighborhood in Queen Anne.

“That’s it on the corner,” Josie said, her voice thick with fear.

On either side of the big stone house were cars parked all the way down the block. Grim-faced people in black approached, carrying trays of food. Tara parked behind a minivan and put the top back on the convertible. Black clouds rolled along the horizon, and the sun was setting fast. She guessed that was the last time they’d put the convertible top down.

“Are you ready for this?” Tara asked, her hands shifting along the steering wheel.

“I’ll never be ready for this,” Josie said with a laugh.

“Hey! I thought you were the brave one.”

“I’m not brave,” Josie said. “I just don’t have a lot of time to wait around.”

Josie tried to open her car door, but it was a little too heavy for her. Tara hurried around to pull it open and help Josie to her feet. It felt as though she was suddenly wasting away before her eyes.

“I’ll put the wig back on,” Josie said hesitantly. “I don’t want Mom to see me like this.”

Tara helped Josie position the wig into place and used a mirror so Josie could approve it.

“I guess we should have brought a bottle of wine or something,” Tara said. “I feel weird coming here empty-handed.”

“We traveled the farthest distance,” Josie said. “That has to count for something.”

Josie and Tara ambled up the walkway to their parents’ place. Just as their Nantucket childhood home had been, the yard was decorated with flower beds, big bushes, and lush-looking trees. Their mother had always had a green thumb. It was strange and a little comforting that she hadn’t changed. Through the window to the garage, they could see two cars, presumably one for their father and one for their mother. Tara wondered what Cindy would do with Bob’s car. She guessed she hadn’t considered that yet.

At the front door, Josie and Tara locked eyes a final time.

“Are we supposed to knock?” Tara asked.

“It’s an open house,” Josie said. “I think we just go right in.”

So just as they had thousands of times in their youth, they walked right into their parents’ place. It was surreal.

The house was packed with mourners. Three middle-aged women in black dresses ate chips and guacamole, standing in a line in the foyer. They murmured hello to Josie and Tara and then continued their private conversation. There was no risk that anyone would recognize them, as neither Tara nor Josie really looked like either of their parents anymore. Tara scanned the foyer and the living room next to it to find photographs of Bob and Cindy on various trips—Paris, Egypt, and scuba diving deep underwater. In the living room was a piano because Cindy had always been very good. And by the door was a man’s thick boots, presumably Bob’s. He wouldn’t need them. As with the car, Tara wondered what would happen to them.

Near the kitchen was a long table piled with food. Even more people were milling in and out of the kitchen, checking on things, and talking about setting timers and hot plates and meatballs. Tara took stock of every woman’s face, looking for their mother.

Josie touched Tara’s elbow. “I have to sit down for a second.”

Tara’s heart jumped. “Let’s go over here,” she said, guiding Josie to a beautiful floral cushioned chair near the back window. “Can I get you water? Tea? Food?”

Josie shook her head and touched her wig nervously. “Do you think she left town again?”

“She knew we were coming and got out of here when she could,” Tara said, trying to joke, although their jokes were falling flat right now. “But you know she wouldn’t just leave Dad’s wake like that. No matter what.”

Josie offered a meek smile.

But that’s when Tara noticed there was someone outside.

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