Page 32 of April Flowers

Margot brought her mother some pudding, remembering how eagerly Avery—if that was really Avery—had eaten her share.

As her mother ate pudding slowly, her eyes on the television, Margot searched online for Avery Carson. It didn’t take long until she found an Instagram account wherein Avery Carson had posted only five photos: three selfies of herself and a woman who looked very much like Mona Carson, just a bit older than her high school self, plus one of a four-leaf clover, and another of a sad-eyed poodle.

There was no denying it. The girl was the same teen who’d broken into her mother’s house.

“That’s her, all right,” Margot breathed.

Sam tugged her blond hair. She looked world-weary. “I’m going to head out and start looking for her.”

Margot gasped. “I’ll come with you.”

“You have to stay here,” Sam reminded her. “This is why you’re here. To be with Lillian. She needs you.” Sam winced. “I know this isn’t easy. None of it is.”

Margot couldn’t help but feel partially responsible for Avery’s status as missing. As Sam got ready, drinking a glass of water and washing it in the sink, Margot crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

“Avery knew my name,” she said, her eyes widening.

Sam gave her a curious look.

“What do you think it means?” Margot asked.

Sam pulled on her gloves. “Honestly? I don’t know,” she said finally.

“Are you going to tell, um, Noah that she was here?” Margot asked.

Margot had lost the feeling in her feet.

Sam hesitated. “I have to.” She sounded like she didn’t want to.

“She left about twenty minutes ago. Maybe twenty-five,” Margot said. “It means she can’t have gotten far. Maybe she hitchhiked home?”

Sam shivered. “I hate the thought of that girl out there by herself, hitchhiking.”

Margot remembered the teenager who’d sat there at the kitchen table, eating food that didn’t belong to her. She’d seemed tough as nails. But Margot knew it was an act.

“I hope I get to see her again,” Margot said, her voice wavering.

Sam squeezed her shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Take care of Lillian. I’ll call you tonight.”

But it was already tonight. Outside, the sky was velvet black. From the foyer, Margot watched Sam run through the cold and start her engine. Inside the house, the same house in which Margot had grown up, Margot stood, listening as her mother ridiculed The Cooking Channel lady, knowing her insults would soon find her again instead.

She was terrified.

She wanted to be back in her flower shop again.

She wanted to call Noah on the phone and say,Let’s go back to the beginning of time.

Chapter Thirteen

When Noah pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, he looked long and hard at his house, searching for signs that Avery had snuck in. He looked for the flicker of the television. He looked for a cracked window. But in the dying light of the evening, everything was indigo and shadowed, and all the house lights were off.

He’d told Sam it was silly to continue the search for Avery much longer tonight. He’d told her that Avery was “not such an idiot” as to remain outside in the cold and dark. But was his plan really to stay at home, pacing the halls, waiting for her? No. He couldn’t bear that. But what could he do?

Maybe he’d call someone else—a friend who could wait at his place while Noah drove around and around the island, searching until dawn. It sounded frantic and frankly stupid. But it was the only logic he found in the midst of all this chaos.

“I’m not doing well, Mona,” Noah mumbled, trying to recall the last time he’d seen his sister. His mind was blank.

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