linguist,” he said to Loran.
Loran stared at him. “You are…?”
“Andrew Kessler—this is Sara—we live next door.”
“Nest-or,” Sara said, making her father smile again.
“You have to be really careful at this stage,” he said to Loran. “They’re a walking instant replay, only the replay might not be instant. It might show up three days later in the middle of church.” He proceeded to water the herb pots on the kitchen windowsill.
“Do you…know where Maddie is?”
“Yeah—she gave me the address. Or the vicinity, anyway.”
“Where is she?”
“You are…?” he asked pointedly, in the same way she had done.
“Her daughter.”
“Oh, yes. Loran. We nearly stole your name and gave it to Sara, didn’t we?” he asked the child.
Sara nodded solemnly.
“Could you give me the…vicinity?” Loran asked.
“Sure. I don’t see why not.”
“Did she say how long she’d be gone?”
“Nope. Not really,” he said, watering another plant.
“Nope,” Sara echoed.
He set the watering can on the counter and reached for his wallet. It took him a moment to shuffle Sara, who didn’t want to be put down, and the contents of his billfold until he found a slip of blue paper.
“I’ll need that back,” he said as he handed it to Loran.
She looked at the paper. Lilac Hill had been written in her mother’s careful hand, with a phone number below it.
What and where was Lilac Hill?
“It’s a North Carolina phone number, I think,” Andrew Kessler said helpfully. “She said something about the mountains. That’s about all I know.”
“Was she—did she—?” Loran stopped, not quite knowing how to frame the question. This man might be allowed into Maddie’s house to look after her greenery, but that didn’t mean he knew anything about her health.
“She seemed fine,” he said, still being helpful. If he thought it odd that Loran didn’t know about her mother’s travel plans, it didn’t show. “Better than I’ve seen her in a while, actually. Kind of excited about going.”
Loran moved to the pad beside the telephone and scribbled down the number, then handed the blue paper back to him.
“Thank you,” she said absently, trying to process the information he’d just given her.
“Will you be staying for a while?”
Loran looked at him blankly.
“Do we still need to come and water the plants, is what I’m asking.”
“Yes. I won’t be staying. Thanks for doing that, by the way.”
“Oh, it’s our pleasure.”
“Pay sure,” Sara said, and this time Loran smiled.
“She’s very…pretty,” she said, but she’d been about to say “lucky.” Little Sara Kessler had a father who clearly wanted to be in her life, to talk to her, to carry her around with him—something far beyond Loran’s experience.
“We think so,” he said. “Well, that’s it for today. Come on, little miss. We’re off to wake up Mommy and take her to McDonald’s.”
“Mommy!” Sara cried, clasping her hands together.
“That’s right! Mommy! It was nice to finally meet you,” he said to Loran, making her feel slightly…absentee, in spite of the fact that she had never neglected Maddie. She had come to Arlington as often as she could.
She stood and watched him walk back across the yard. At one point, he set his daughter on the ground and they continued the rest of the way hand in hand, underscoring something Loran had realized a long time ago. Some men were meant to be fathers—and most men weren’t. Clearly, her own hadn’t been so inclined.
She thought suddenly about leaving the house this morning and about Kent, cranky and half-asleep when she’d tried to tell him about her restless night and her impulsive decision to go to Arlington again. He’d made a token offer to come with her, but he hadn’t meant it. She hadn’t really wanted him to come along. What she had wanted—needed—was some small indication that he understood a little of what she was going through. They had lived together for months. Her mother was dying, and her heart was breaking, and he had given her…nothing.
She was still watching as Andrew Kessler and his daughter carefully climbed the steps to their front porch and went inside the house. Step-climbing was clearly another much appreciated milestone. She tried to imagine Kent taking that kind of delight in a child’s simple accomplishments and couldn’t. He wasn’t interested in being a father, or a husband. He was interested in living unencumbered and in having a large corner office with his name on the door—not unlike herself. She and Kent made a beautiful, career-minded couple. Everybody said so. Loran and Kent. Kent and Loran. Wunderkinds of the investment world. She knew that Maddie didn’t like him much, regardless of the fact that she’d never said so. Loran had never quite gotten up the courage to ask why not. As inaccessible as Maddie’s thoughts might be, one did not want to ask her for an honest opinion unless one was ready to hear it.
“Maddie, Maddie,” Loran said wearily.
She didn’t understand any of this. Her mother was a home-body. She didn’t take unplanned trips, even when she’d been in the bloom of health. Apparently, Maddie expected to be gone for a time, or she wouldn’t have made plans to keep her philodendrons and her windowsill herb garden alive.
She just didn’t expect to be gone long enough to have to inform her only child.
The house was so quiet, in spite of the whirring of the refrigerator motor and the wall clock clicking off the seconds. The place looked homey, but it wasn’t, not without Maddie in it. There should be music playing, the oldie-goldie doo-wop station, and Maddie singing along even though she claimed to hate the songs of that era. There should be a pot of soup bubbling on the stove or bread baking in the oven.
The phone rang sharply, making Loran jump. She hesitated, then answered it.
“There you are!” her mother said cheerfully—as if Loran were the one missing.
“Mother, where—”
“I just talked to Kent. He told me you took a couple of days off and you were coming to see me today.”
“Well, that didn’t work out,” Loran said pointedly, and her mother laughed.
“Yes. Well. I…need you to do something for me,” Maddie said.
“Who
