She's Up to No Good(70)

“There are more?”

“I’ll make you a list.”

“A list?”

“It’s important to know where you come from,” she said. “Who you come from.”

I agreed, looking around the room but thinking that what I had learned from her and from being here, in the place that my family was from, had taught me so much more than a list could.

The eldest of them had been eight when my great-grandparents forbade her to marry Tony, which I doubted they really remembered. The stories they told over dinner revolved around their time at the cottages, most of them referencing later years, when my grandmother would come for the entire summer with my mother, aunt, and uncle.

I cringed guiltily. My mother had called while I was getting ready, and I had forgotten to call her back. I had texted her that I went to the island, and she had replied, OMG does your grandmother know you went out there? Then she called, but I was in the shower by then. Mom, Aunt Joan, and Uncle Richie should be here for this, not me. I didn’t know these people.

A cousin named either Diana or Diane (there was one of each, and I couldn’t tell which was which) was in the middle of a story about a goat that Joseph had purchased for the grandchildren when I felt my phone vibrate. I checked it discreetly from my lap, assuming it was my mom.

But it was Joe. Whatcha up to?

Impromptu family reunion at a restaurant. Apparently my family is huge.

Yeah. I’ve got one of those families too. I’ll let you go. Pick you up at 10 tomorrow for whale watching?

My heart sank a little. I didn’t want him to let me go. They’re telling a story about a goat that ate through all the beach towels. I think I can talk. What are you up to?

I watched the three dots greedily, waiting on his reply. Over at the gallery. Do you want to come by when you finish?

It was after nine, and the waitstaff had already cleared the tables. Good girl Jenna would stay until her grandmother was ready to leave. But I looked over at her as she was chiming in regularly to correct details in her niece’s story. She would go.

Touching her arm to get her attention, I leaned toward her ear. “Are you okay if I bail a little early? You can text me when it’s time to go back, and I’ll come get you.”

She turned and eyed me sharply, the corners of her mouth twitching into a grin. “One of them will take me home. Give Joe my love.”

“I—”

“Go.”

I stood and kissed her cheek. “Okay.”

“You’re leaving?” Donna asked.

“She’s meeting Joe.”

I sighed as a group discussion of my social life began. “Nice to meet you all,” I said loudly, then left and texted Joe for the gallery’s address.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


June 1951


Hereford, Massachusetts


Word of Miriam’s ultimatum spread rapidly through the two houses. Everyone watched Evelyn warily, especially as she picked at her food listlessly instead of eating it, but she regained a semblance of freedom. If she went for a walk, no one followed her. Instead, when she came back to the house, everyone looked up anxiously, then pretended they hadn’t been waiting on shpilkes, counting the seconds to see if she would return or if they would have to pretend she was dead if they encountered her in town.

Once, when the phone rang, she heard Joseph say, “She can’t come to the phone,” then hang up.

She couldn’t breathe.

She pulled open the screen door, slipped on a pair of beach shoes from the front porch, not caring that they weren’t hers, and padded rapidly down the steps. But instead of going toward the end of the road, she crossed through the line of trees to the bluffs overlooking the water. She reached the edge and laid down on one of the rocks, her hands over her eyes, struggling to pull enough air into her lungs.

When her breath eventually calmed, she sat up, legs dangling off the rock over the cliff edge, and leaned her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees.

“Does that fella of yours know you’re this upset?”

Evelyn whipped her head around so fast at the strange voice that she almost lost her balance. An older woman peered out from the trees, wearing a brightly colored muumuu and a straw sun hat. “Hello, Mrs. Gardner,” Evelyn said, wiping at her eyes.

“What’d he do?”

“What’d who do?”

“Your fella. That one you came up here with all winter.”

Evelyn looked at her in alarm. “I don’t know what—”

Mrs. Gardner came closer, leaning on a walking stick. “Don’t bother lying. I don’t go telling other people’s business.” She looked Evelyn up and down. “Doesn’t look like you’ve gotten yourself into any trouble.”

Evelyn felt her cheeks reddening. It was one thing when Bernie said it, but she didn’t know this woman. “N-no,” she stammered.

“Your pa doesn’t approve? Or he doesn’t want to marry you?” She spoke in the thick accent of someone who spent her lifetime on the north shore, her family probably among the earliest settlers.

Blinking heavily, Evelyn sighed. “The former. Although I think it’s more my mother.”

“No, I s’pose they wouldn’t approve. Looks Portuguese.”