Halfway to You(106)

The rest of her visit was filled with family. Barbara and Iris came to see her, as well as Natalie and Jackson and Maggie’s closest cousins, Ronnie and Fiona. The Whitakers spent their time clearing the air. The meals and outings didn’t feel the same without Keith, but they were pleasant in a new sort of way: they were honest. And Maggie finally felt like she belonged.

But now, inside Ann’s home again, thoughts of the podcast start swirling. Her conversation with Grant this morning was encouraging, but she can’t help but feel nervous . . . and a little sad. This is their last sit-down. The final interview. Brit has already started splicing earlier recordings. Ann used a local studio while Maggie was on her family hiatus to record the bits of the story that they missed the first time—and the aftermath of Tahiti and the movie premiere, where Ann purposely omitted Tracey’s name from Todd’s admission. The podcast probably could have interviewed Ann remotely for the last chapter, too, but Grant insisted Maggie go in person, citing some ineffable magic quality in Ann’s voice when Maggie is in the room. Maggie can’t hear it, but even Brit swore to the difference.

“What’s wrong?” Ann asks. “It can’t possibly be the doughnut.”

“Ha. No, I’m . . .” Maggie stares at Ann, admiring her golden eyes and the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. “I’m savoring this.”

Ann leans back, mouth puckering slightly. “I’m going to miss this too,” she says. “I’d very much like to stay in touch. To be . . . friends.”

“Is it strange,” Maggie begins, “knowing that I’m Todd’s daughter?”

“The moment I saw you on my doorstep, I knew that you weren’t just a Maggie, you were the Maggie,” Ann says. “Like Tracey mentioned, it was your eyes. And your lips, a little bit. You have Tracey’s nose, but the way you frown in thought is all Todd.”

Maggie must be frowning that way now, because Ann grins.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It wasn’t my place. I had done enough damage to your family.”

“So our first interview . . .”

“I panicked. I didn’t want to involve myself all over again.” She shrugs with one shoulder. “But then you admitted your relation to Keith—and spoke of that feeling you had about needing to talk—and I knew I couldn’t simply turn you out.”

“You had to know that your story would surface . . . questions. Plot holes.”

“That first afternoon, after you left, I was shaken. I called Tracey.” Ann spots the surprise on Maggie’s face. “I know, I’m sneaky, aren’t I?”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t pick up. I left a message and told her it was time to tell you. I wasn’t going to do it, but the story might unearth some things, and she better prepare to lay it all on the table.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” Ann smiles a wan little smile. “I don’t blame Tracey for disliking me—I would, too, if I were her. The fatal flaw of your family is their ability to shove their emotions down.” She shrugs. “I lived a lot of my life stifling my emotions, feeling shameful over them. But the best, most defining moments of my life—as you now know—are the ones where I practiced radical honesty with myself and the people around me. Tracey resents that quality in me because it’s disruptive. I never took pleasure in being that sort of catalyst for her. But here I am, me, Ann. I like to think that my presence in the Whitakers’ lives has, overall, been positive.”

“Do you have any regrets?” Maggie wants to know.

“Regret is poison to the soul at my age.” Ann takes an unceremonious bite of a jelly doughnut—her second, after polishing off a simple glazed one—and jelly squirts out, a glop landing on her jeans. “Oh, shoot. You’d think I’d be better at this by now.” She wipes the jelly off with her index finger, then walks to the kitchen to rinse her hands and dab at her pants with a wet paper towel.

Maggie walks over to lean against the kitchen island. “If you knew about the waves you were about to cause, why did you do this story?”

“Because . . . a lot of things. I wasn’t lying when I said that it was time to tell my whole story. This podcast was a way to honor Keith and Todd. Remember them.” She pauses thoughtfully. “And it’s the story of your father. You deserved to hear it—even if it was colored by my bias.”

“Oh.” The backs of Maggie’s eyes begin to sting, her vision getting a little blurry. “I’m sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

“It’s fine, dear.” Ann ushers her to the wingbacks once again, a dark spot fading on her jeans. “In the last few years, I’ve lost my best friend and the love of my life. Without Keith and Todd . . . the world feels very empty. It has been a delight recounting the memories with you. Even the painful ones.”

Settled in her chair again, Maggie takes a sip of the tea Ann prepared. “I saw Barbara. She asked for your address.”

Ann’s cheeks crease, a hopeful brightening. “Did she?”

“She wants to send you some of Keith’s mementos. And maybe arrange a visit? Natalie too. They said they always liked you, despite everything.”

“I would love that,” Ann says with a watery little cough.