“Well, we got a divorce about five years ago.”
“Shoot. I’m sorry. You know my mom. She’s not one to gossip.”
“Ayuh. I’ve got a little place here in town just around the corner from the Clam Shack. You here to see your mom, I’m guessing?”
“I am. Is she free?”
“Well, you know her. Always working. Go on in, honey.”
Mrs. K. She’d always been nice. I paused. “Mrs. Krazinski,” I said in a low voice, “I hope this doesn’t put you in an uncomfortable spot, since you work with Mom, but I was wondering if you ever heard anything about my father. Where he went after he left the island.”
Her brows drew together. “No, honey, I’m sorry. I never did. I used to ask your mom about it way back when, but she didn’t know much, either, and after a while, I just stopped asking. Figured if she wanted me to know, she’d have told me.”
Sounded like Mom, all right. “Well, I sure would love to know what happened, so if you think of anyone I could talk to...”
“Sure, honey. Now, go see your mom.”
I obeyed. My mother was sitting at her desk, a container of yogurt next to her on top of a pile of folders.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, Nora. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to say hello.”
“Oh. Well. Hello.”
My two burning questions—You getting any these days? and Whatever happened to Dad?—were too freaky to include in the same conversation. I decided to go with Operation Find Mom a Honey.
“I was wondering if you might want to come by the houseboat for dinner on Friday,” I said. “I’m having a little dinner party.” Not that I’d planned on it, but why not? Time to show off my new digs.
“I’m not much for parties, Nora.”
“Please come, Mother.” I stared at her.
“Well, what about Poe?”
“Poe can come, or she can stay by herself. She’s almost sixteen.”
“I have work to do.” She turned back to her computer.
“You always have work to do.”
“That’s right. So thanks all the same.”
“Mom. Come to my house for dinner. Please. For me.”
She sighed.
“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to show up at hug therapy and—”
“Fine, fine. I’ll come. What time? Don’t make it too late. I like to be in bed before nine-thirty.”
Victory. “Seven?”
“Are we in France or somethin’? Fine.”
Yoga breath, yoga breath. “Thanks, Mom. It’ll be nice.”
“Who else is coming?”
“Just a few friends.” Every unmarried man under the age of eighty I could find. I’d ask Mr. Dobbins (Bawb), our hug-hungry first selectman, and, uh...well, I’d find one or two more. I could think of three. I’d ask Xiaowen to come, and Gloria, too. My place could fit ten, I thought—Collier Rhodes hadn’t skimped on size.
A party would be fun. I did like to cook, and let’s face it, without Boomer, I was lonely.
Mission accomplished for the moment, I left the hotel and walked back to the clinic. The dogwoods along Main Street were blooming, their flowers seeming to float on the air in a way that never failed to charm me. I stopped in The Cracked Spine, bought the latest Stephen King novel (against my will, but the man had a hold on me). I added a few postcards of scenic Scupper Island to send to my Boston buddies.
“Where are you from?” the woman behind the desk asked as she rang me up. She looked familiar. Penny, that was her name. Penny Walters. She’d gone to the same church as we did. No kids, if I recalled.
“I’m from here, actually,” I said. “I’m Sharon Stuart’s daughter.”
“Oh, sure! I just love your daughter,” she said. “So nice to see a teenager who reads.”
“Poe is my niece,” I said. “I’m Nora, the other daughter.” At her blank stare, I added, “The doctor who lives in Boston. My mother has two daughters.”
“No, I remember. It’s just that you look very...young.”
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t that I looked young, I knew. It was that I wasn’t a fat kid with acne and bad hair anymore.
And I hadn’t been back in fifteen years. And my mother didn’t talk about me much, apparently.
Penny busied herself behind the counter.
The door opened, and in came Xiaowen. “Hey!” I said, brightening.
“Hey yourself. What did you buy? Oh, Stephen King. I hate that man.”
“I know. He’s crack. What are you looking for?”
“I made the sad mistake of loaning out Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to my nephew, and guess who dropped it in the bathtub? He’s out of the will, let me tell you.”
“You loan out your Harry Potters?” I asked in horror.
“Not anymore. The little bastard owes me twenty-five bucks. Do you have it in stock?” she asked Penny. “Hardcover, of course.”
“I’ll order it for you,” Penny said.
Xiaowen sighed. “Well, there goes my weekend.”
“Listen,” I said, “just this once, I’ll loan you mine. But I expect you to treat it like the Book of Kells, okay?”
“I’ll wear gloves when reading it.”
“No food, water or fire near it.”
“I understand.” She smiled.
“What are you doing Friday night?” I asked. “I’m having a dinner party.”
“Like a real grown-up?”
“Exactly. Want to come?”
“Shit, yes! What time? And are you inviting men? Because I do have to warn you, I am not on the market, but they’ll all make a pass. My cross to bear—all straight men and half the gays want me.”
“Who can blame them?” I said, smiling.
“Are you girl-crushing on me? Who can blame you? I’d love to come! Any old classmates we can torture with how well we’ve aged?”
“Do you have anyone specific in mind?”
“Georgie Frank. God, I had the worst crush on him in high school. He still lives here, right?”
I grimaced. “Um...I don’t know. I can’t say I remember him.”
“You’re kidding! He was so hot. Receding hairline? Those big teeth? Come on! He was basically Neville Longbottom! Wouldn’t give me the time of day back then.”
“Oh, him! Yes, of course. I’ll give him a call.”
“Maybe the Fletcher boys, too. Who was the hot one? He was my lab partner. Mike?”
“Luke. I probably won’t ask him.” Nope, one doesn’t invite an asshole to one’s home.
“Oh, wait. You beat him out for something... What was it? A scholarship! You were the Perez Scholar! I forgot about that!”
“You did? I mean, weren’t you up for it, too?”
She snorted. “I’m sorry to say I didn’t have a tiger mom, Nora. She’s more like a kitten. My GPA was nowhere near yours. I was only good in math and science. I barely passed English and social studies, and not because I’m from China. Because I hated reading until J.K. Rowling showed me the light.”
“I’m closing for lunch,” Penny said. “If you ladies are finished...?”
“Fine, we’re leaving. Order me that book, okay? I’ll come get it next week.” She gave me a quick hug. “The oyster beds await. I’ll see you Friday. Want me to come early and lie around and drink wine and watch you do all the work?”