Surfside Sisters(27)

“Maybe, a loan…” Keely began. She didn’t know how exactly to say the words. “If we could have a loan, and of course we’d pay back the interest…”

Mr. Maxwell’s mouth turned down, as if she’d disappointed him.

“Keely, no bank would consider giving you or your mother a loan. You have no collateral.”

Keely straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I wasn’t thinking of a bank. I was thinking of a personal loan.”

    His face was stone. “I suggest you forget that idea. Loaning money to friends only leads to trouble. I always advise against it.”

How can you do this? Keely wanted to cry. How can you be so cold?

“Keely.” Quietly, her mother reached over and held her hand.

“If you had an income,” Mr. Maxwell continued, his tone neutral and formal, “you could help your mother keep the house.”

Keely stared at Isabelle’s father. More than anything, she wanted to help her mother. She also wanted to retain some semblance of dignity.

Keely turned toward her mother. “I’ll move back here and work. I’m sure I can help with the finances.”

Her mother gave Keely a heartbroken, heartbreaking look. Her sweet mother, so strong and caring for her patients, was broken now.

Mr. Maxwell spoke gently. “It is an option, Keely.”

Desperately, Keely said, “But maybe you could change from a fifteen-year mortgage to a thirty-year mortgage and then the payments wouldn’t be so high every month.”

Eloise managed a weak smile. “What a smart girl you are, Keely. Your father and I used to wonder where on earth you got all your brains. Yes, you’re right about that. But a few years ago we switched to a thirty-year mortgage.”

So, Keely thought, there was no other way. She forced herself to sound confident. “I’ll come just for a year. While you recover from losing Dad—not that you’ll ever really recover, I don’t mean that—I’ll live with you and work two jobs and help pay the mortgage. Right, Mom?”

“Oh, Keely.” Her mother’s face was pinched with regret.

Mr. Maxwell spoke up. “Good for you, Keely. You’re young, energetic. And of course, you could finish your last years of college later. Maybe take some courses online.” A kind of satisfaction ran through his words.

Keely stared at Mr. Maxwell, searching his face for a gleam of malice. Had Keely ever believed that Mr. Maxwell really cared for her, about her, because she was Isabelle’s best friend, because they did everything together? You wouldn’t ask Isabelle to leave college, Keely wanted to hiss, but of course that was irrelevant. It was demeaning, humiliating, to sit here like this with a man she’d unintentionally thought of as, maybe not a father figure, but close to that, an adult who saw that Keely was special, set apart from the crowd, because Keely was his daughter’s best friend.

    But really, it didn’t matter what Mr. Maxwell thought. What mattered was her mother, who had lost her husband and now had to face the world alone. She studied her mother, who had dropped at least five pounds in the past few days, and looked drawn and withered and frail. Eloise had never been frail. But these were exceptional circumstances, Keely realized. She had to help her mother.

Keely reached over and took her mother’s hand. “Mom, let’s do it. I mean, I’ll do it. We can figure out our finances, and how much we need to meet the mortgage and living expenses. I always make a pile babysitting and house cleaning. We’ll be very Swiss Family Robinson and live on twigs and snails and pay off some of that mortgage.”

Eloise looked at Keely. “Oh, darling. You are such a wonderful daughter.”

“You are, Keely,” Mr. Maxwell agreed. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Keely said. But she didn’t feel proud. She felt destroyed.





“But that can’t be right!” Isabelle cried.

Cell phone against her ear, Keely lay on her bed in her UMass dorm—for the last time. She was taking a break from packing up, preparing to leave the university and return to the island.

“Lots of people drop out for lots of reasons,” Keely replied. Her best friend’s shock and indignation pleased her. It was how Keely felt, and good Lord, it helped to have someone on her side.

“I’ll talk to Dad,” Isabelle declared, righteousness strong in her voice. “He’ll figure something out.”

At that, Keely’s heart sank. With those words, Keely knew she really was all alone, and her gratitude toward Isabelle for sharing her outrage vanished. What a child Isabelle was, thinking her father would fix everything. How fortunate Isabelle was, to have everything, always, and to be able to count on that.

“Your father knows. He agrees that I should drop out.” Keely heard the bitter triumph in her voice, as if she, Keely, had somehow won a point. When really, she was losing everything.

For a long moment, Isabelle was silent. “Keely, listen. Wait. I’m too upset to think straight. We could loan you money. Let me ask Dad—”

    “Absolutely not!”

“But—”

“I don’t need his charity. He’s already said there’s nothing else to do.”

“Keely, I can’t wrap my head around this. I’m coming over to see you.”