Page 21 of April Flowers

Again, nobody answered. But Margot was surprised at how eager and ready she was to talk. It felt delicious and freeing. For twenty years, she’d kept everything under wraps. She hadn’t even bothered with therapy although many boyfriends and friends had suggested she should give it a try. Now, with her voice echoing back at her from the wall of the rotting boathouse, she felt her soul opening up.

“Mom, I’ve always wanted to tell you this,” she continued, sounding half insane. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever known. Ever. And after everything that happened, there was noway I could stay in Nantucket, waiting for you to victimize me. I knew what you were planning. I knew you would make me pay for it. Every single bit of it.”

Tears trickled down Margot’s cheeks. Hunger and anger joined in her stomach and made it roil.

She was a woman alone, talking to an empty boathouse.

But suddenly, she spotted it again: movement, a flash of something. An arm?

“Mom?” Margot cried, stepping into the boathouse. The smell became overwhelming, and she covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her coat.

Next came a sound—like footsteps. The sound was too heavy to be a wild animal. A small part of Margot knew she should retreat, call the police, and figure this out in a more practical way. But the hungry part of Margot wanted to figure this out on her own. She needed a win.

When she leaped into the shadows and cornered the person hiding back there, she couldn’t let her own fear play out over her face. She had to stay strong.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The person responded with only silence. Margot had the sense that whoever it was, they weren’t afraid of her. Blinking through the darkness, Margot was finally able to piece a few things together.

It was a teenage girl: blond, overly thin, with green eyes the size of chestnuts. She’d backed all the way into the corner and spread her fingers along the rotten wall. She was looking at Margot, her eyes glinting with curiosity as though she’d never seen someone like her before.

And then she asked, “Is your name Margot?”

Margot thought she was going to fall down.

“I’m sorry?”

How did this girl know her name? Why was she here? Was this whoever had kidnapped her mother and taken her away? Was this the criminal mastermind?

The teenager was not frightened of Margot. She took a soft step forward and raised her chin. “You’re Margot.” She said it like she was giving her the name herself.

Margot sniffed. “Why are you on my family property?”

The teenage girl blinked around ruefully as though seeing the boathouse for the first time. “It looks pretty condemned to me.”

Margot’s heartbeat slowed the slightest bit. The teenager was like all other teenagers she’d encountered who thought she was smarter than everyone else.

Margot didn’t have time for this.

“Listen, do you know where Lillian Earnheart is?” she asked.

The teenager raised her eyebrows. “Who is that?”

“She’s the owner of this property.”

“Has she heard of paint?” the teenager asked.

Margot rolled her eyes. She considered saying,My mother is very sick. But she guessed that wouldn’t carry weight with a teenager, so she said, “Why aren’t you in school?”

“School got out ten minutes ago.”

“And you were here ten minutes ago,” Margot said. “I saw you.”

“Are you going to call the principal on me?” the teenager mocked her.

Margot flared her nostrils and threw up her hands. “Whatever, okay? I’m looking for my mother. I need to find her as soon as possible.”

“Because she’s sick,” the teenager said.

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