Page 110 of Spindrift

“Ma,”she said, coming to her senses. “You’re prying.”

“I’msorry. You’re right. Emilia, don’t mind me.”

“It’sokay.” Emilia took a deep breath. “I’ve actually left my practice. I’m taking afew months off to reevaluate things.”

Shannonshot Morgan another look.

“Goodfor you,” said Aaron. “It takes guts to take time for yourself.”

“Ishould check on the pie. Morgan, come help me set the table?”

“Don’tfrighten her with any of your dad jokes,” Morgan warned as she slunk off intoher mother’s lair.

Shannonbeckoned her over to the oven. “Well, she’s certainly good-looking.”

“Jesus,Ma.”

“Doesshe know you’re in love with her?”

Morganpressed her knuckles into the counter to keep from punching something. “Do wehave to do this?”

“Iworry about you.”

“Well,don’t. And no, she doesn’t know, and she’s not going to. You heard her. She’sleaving in a month.” No point in trying to hide the bitterness in her voice,she reflected as she listened to herself speak. Her mother wasn’t dumb.

“Haveyou asked her to stay?”

“I’veonly known her since May.”

“Takethese plates,” said Shannon. “And Morgan—”

“Juststay out of it, okay?” A wave of rosemary wafted into the kitchen as Shannonopened the oven. Not even that smell could clear the sourness from her tongue.“She’s not Kate.”

“Ican see that.”

“Soyou’ll leave it alone?”

Shannonstuck a thermometer in the pie and considered her answer. “You’re anindependent woman. I raised you to make up your own mind.”

Morganwaited for the “but.”

“ButI do hate seeing you hurt.”

“Idon’t enjoy it either, for the record.” She turned her back on her mother,fuming. This had been a mistake. Of course her mother couldn’t leave wellenough alone. That had always been the case.Have you asked her to stay?The idea was preposterous. Asking Emilia to stick around for her would beunfair and selfish. She’d do her best to enjoy the time they had and deal withthe rest later.

Herfoul mood ebbed as she set the table. She could see out the door to the porch,where Emilia was laughing, probably at one of her dad’s terrible jokes. Shelooked so right, sitting there. More so even than Kate, whom her father hadadored. Emilia said something Morgan couldn’t hear, and her father threw backhis head with mirth while Shannon emerged from the kitchen to place a hand onMorgan’s shoulder in sympathetic silence.

Chapter Fifteen

Emiliapaused her assault on the weeds in the front garden to wipe a stream of sweatout of her eyes. Late July, she’d assumed incorrectly, would be cooler herethan in Boston, but the degree or two of discrepancy didn’t make much of adifference once the temperature surpassed eighty-five degrees. At this rate,temps would hit ninety by noon. Maybe she’d head to the dock for a swim aftershe finished prepping the yard for the real estate agent.

Herhand tightened violently around the next weed. Calling the agent had been agood idea, she reminded herself. The real estate market was a total mystery toher, and she’d need an agent whether she decided to sell or rent. The woman hadseemed nice enough on the phone. Professional, knowledgeable, and objective.Her insight would help Emilia make the decision she’d been putting off formonths. Why, then, did the thought make her queasy?

Itcould be the heat she reminded herself. Haze shimmered over the gravel drive. Nellhad opted to remain on the shaded porch, sleeping. Emilia plucked a thistlefrom behind a wilting shrub and tossed it into the wheelbarrow before slumping.The yard looked fine. She’d mowed the meadow, and the garden was respectablyweed free, provided no one looked close enough. The agent—Katherinesomething—had mentioned photographs. Maybe she could Photoshop the last of theweeds out. Would she have to pay a landscaper if she decided to rent, or wouldthe tenant take care of that? A property management company? But what if thehouse fell into disrepair and no one told her? Once again, she considered therelative ease of selling. It made more sense, once her emotions were out of thepicture.

Thequeasiness intensified. She wheeled the weeds to the ends of the yard andtipped them into the woods. If only her parents had been a better fit for eachother, like Morgan’s. Then this would be somebody else’s problem: namely, hermother’s.

Thinkingabout Morgan brought the now familiar rush of warmth. Dinner with the Donovanshad been more enjoyable than she’d allowed herself to hope for. Shannon, she’dnoticed, had held herself a little back, eying her daughter, but Aaron was oneof the most genuinely wonderful men she’d ever met. He was so like Morgan thatshe smiled at the memory.

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