Page 25 of April Flowers

“I own a flower shop in Boston,” Margot said.

The girl’s eyes were illuminated. “Where?”

“Do you know Boston?”

“I’m from Boston. Sort of. I mean, I was born here, but I left four years ago.”

Now, we’re getting somewhere, Margot thought.

“My place is in Beacon Hill,” Margot said, knowing it would impress the girl.

It did.

“Oh. Cool. It must be fancy,” the girl said, taking a bite of bread and cheese. “Is it hard to own your own shop?”

“It’s challenging, but it’s worth it. It’s my favorite place,” Margot said.

“What about Nantucket?” the girl asked.

Margot raised her eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Most people say Nantucket is their favorite place,” the girl said. “People I met in Boston wouldn’t stop gushing about it. Wow, you’re so lucky you’re from Nantucket. It was nonstop.”

Not me!Margot didn’t say.

Instead, Margot offered, “I have a complicated relationship with this place.”

The teenager smirked. “Me too.”

“Why’s that?”

The teenager took another big bite of bread and cheese.

“Do you want to tell me your name?” Margot asked. “It’s only fair since you know mine.”

How does she know it?Maybe the girl had snuck into her mother’s house and found a photograph somewhere. Perhaps she’d dug through their memories to manipulate them later.

Suddenly, a knock on the door was followed by a doorbell. The teenager didn’t flinch. Margot got to her feet, giving the girl a look she hoped translated todon’t move!She went to the foyer and opened the door.

Standing on the porch was her mother, bundled up and looking slightly confused but fine. Although Margot hadn’t seen her in twenty years, it seemed to Margot that Lillian hadn’t done her fair share of aging. Only a few spare wrinkles had formed around her eyes and on her forehead, and her hair was dyed to a remarkably bright copper color—the same color as her girlhood before it had turned an auburn blond. Her clothing was nicely laundered, and she wore a thick scarf and mittens, translating her ability to handle the island’s winter cold.

The only problem was that Lillian looked at Margot with contempt. But that wasn’t any different from before.

But Lillian wasn’t alone.

Beside Lillian stood a wonderfully handsome man. A man with bushy dark curls, a gruff beard, and a thick, fur-lined winter coat. When he smiled at Margot, Margot felt that every horrible thing that had happened that day had been only part of a nightmare.

He looked familiar. But why? Margot couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Is she going to step aside?” Lillian asked the man.

Margot felt it like a smack. But again, she wasn’t surprised.

This is Lillian Earnheart in all her glory, she reminded herself. The cherry on top was that she didn’t remember me. Not yet.

“Mom, we’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Margot said. She felt as though she was going to melt right there in the foyer.

Unable to resist, she fell forward to wrap her mother in a hug.What am I doing? This is Lillian Earnheart! This is my estranged mother!

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