Folly Cove (44 page)

“I figured it out.” Her mother gave her a sharp glance. “You weren't going to tell me, I know. But I've had time to think about it, since you told me about the separation. What he did to you is unforgivable. But I suppose you'll have to be civil to him for Kennedy's sake. That's the way divorce is done these days. I just hope you have a good lawyer.”

“We haven't actually made it to the legal part yet. We're still talking.”

“Well, believe me, having a lawyer sooner is better than later,” Sarah said. “I'll set you up. I know somebody.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Laura looked at her curiously. “So are you ready to have a memorial service for Dad? Elly wants to do it before she goes back to California.”

“She's going back?”

Laura nodded. “But Ryder says if they try it out there for another year and she wants to come east after that, he'll move with her.”

Sarah's face broke into a smile. “The Viking. I'm glad she held on to that one.”

“Yes, I like him, too.” She patted her mother's foot. “So what about a service?”

“You fix it. I'll show up. Whenever you want. So long as it's after my party.”

“Good.” Laura started to stand up, but her mother reached over and encircled her wrist with bony fingers.

“Wait,” she said. “About the lies, there are a couple of other things I want to tell you. My biggest regrets of all.”

“Okay. I'm listening.” Laura felt herself tense up again.

“First off, I'm sorry I never told you about my struggles.” Sarah looked away, swallowing hard, her pale forehead gleaming in the morning sunlight, her delicate profile sharp.

“Your struggles?” Laura had no idea what her mother meant.

“My depression, or my breakdowns or whatever.” She shrugged a little. “I've had to fight the blues all my life. Singing helped, but medication helped more.” She turned to look at Laura again, her gaze very direct now. “I worry you might have those same lows I had. You know what I'm talking about?”

Laura clasped her hands on her jeans and nodded. “I do.”

“I don't want you to suffer like I did. There's help for that sort of thing. There's no shame in asking for it.” Her mother's voice was fierce now. “Your aunt Flossie, believe it or not, with all her love of nature and no makeup, and anti this and anti that, she's the one who helped me decide it was okay to take the pills when we found what worked. So now I'm telling you. If you need help, ask me, and I'll see that you get it. I'm not kidding here.”

Stunned, Laura reached for her mother's hand again, needing to touch her, to convey all the gratitude she felt but couldn't say. “Okay.”

Sarah nodded, her voice brisk again. “Good.”

“What's your other regret? You said you had two.”

“More than that. So much more. But the biggest regret is that I lied about my sister,” Sarah said softly. “Joanie. I wish I'd kept in touch with her.” There was a note of longing in her mother's voice that Laura had never heard before.

“You do? Why?”

“Oh, for all sorts of reasons,” Sarah said. “I wish I'd seen Joanie grow up. I haven't seen her since she was nineteen. Now she's a mother and a widow. Probably a grandmother, too. And I wish I'd helped her. I couldn't have done much for her financially—she married a wealthy man—but Joanie was sweet and always thought the best of people. I watch you girls and wonder now what it would have been like, having a sister all my life.”

“At least you have Flossie,” Laura said, not knowing any other way to comfort her. It was true: losing a sister would be terrible. It would be like losing a part of yourself.

“Yes. Flossie's a pain in my side, but she's
my
pain.” Sarah smiled and gripped Laura's hand harder. Her fingers were cool and slim, but strong. “Most of all, I wish I could have been as good to my little sister as you've been to yours,” she said.

“Oh, Mom,” Laura said.

The two of them sat together on the couch in silence then, watching the birch trees beyond the window sway in the wind.

•   •   •

Sarah had provided entertainment for many parties, both as a singer and as the owner of the Folly Cove Inn, with her daughters as a trio. But from the moment her birthday party began she was astonished at their talent.

Such a credit to her, the guests said.

“Oh, well, your birthday comes only once a year, and my girls insisted on going all out for this party!” Sarah said, smiling graciously at each and every one of the wonderful people at her party.

Only that nosy art association president, Rose, had commented on her age. “Sixty-five, imagine that!” she'd said. “Did you ever think you'd get this old, back when you were their age?” She nodded toward Sarah's daughters, who were, thankfully, out of earshot.

Sarah laughed and lowered her voice, pretending to be conspiratorial. “What can you do? Age is just a number. You're as young as you feel. How young do
you
feel, Rose? You don't look a day over sixty! You must take marvelous care of your skin.”

Elly had transformed the dining room into a Paris bistro, with
cafés overlooking a street! Anne did a marvelous job singing and dancing to “I Got Rhythm” with Kennedy, and all the girls got together and did “'S Wonderful.” How cute they looked in those oversize suits! Elly's voice, especially, was as clear and perfectly pitched as ever. Sarah clapped her hands delightedly after each song.

Dinner, too, was a treat. Roast lamb with mint sauce, mashed potatoes, green beans. All her favorites, and perfectly prepared. And the cake! Anne had baked it herself: a cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower! Everyone cheered when the cake was brought out on a wheeled cart, as well they should. Her daughter was a master pastry chef!

Sarah made a wish—she'd never tell what it was—and blew out the candles. The effort left her exhausted, but the applause was worth it. Then she ate her piece and a few bites of Gil's, too. The girls had looked surprised to see him—he wasn't on the original invitations mailed out, of course, because they'd done that before Sarah had known she wanted him to be included—but she'd gotten around that by saying he was Rhonda's “plus one.”

Even Flossie behaved herself. She wore a clean pair of black trousers and a white blouse, with a green tweedy sort of vest that made her look like a leprechaun.

The band started after dinner. The lead singer was a friend of Rhonda's, and someone—Elly? Laura?—must have told them to play Sarah's old jazz favorites. Sarah tapped her foot as she watched Laura slip onto the dance floor with her new man, whose name Sarah had already forgotten. They seemed well matched. He wasn't tall or especially handsome, but there was something solid and reassuring about him, and he made Laura smile.

Then Gil asked her to dance. Sarah very nearly said no, because who would think a man built like this one could be anything but bullish around a dance floor, as he was in life?

Besides, they were playing “I've Got the World on a String,” her absolute favorite song, and the first song she'd ever danced to with Neil. It would break her heart to dance to it with someone else.

It all came back to Sarah then, how Neil had taken her in his arms and moved her around the floor of this very dining room as smoothly
as if they'd been dancing together all their lives, even though it was the first time they'd met. She'd sung this song to him from the stage after he'd helped her untangle a microphone cord, and he'd asked the band to play it again, just the instrumental, so he could sing it with her while they danced.

Suddenly, Sarah's eyes were brimming with tears, and she didn't have a tissue. She didn't even know where her purse was!

Now she was in a panic, thinking of her makeup and of how awful it would be to snivel at her own wonderful party. The girls would be upset if she looked unhappy. She didn't want to do that to them, not after all the trouble they'd gone to for her lately.

No, not just lately. Ever since they were children, her daughters had tried hard to please her. It was her turn to try to please them, for once.

So she smiled up at Gil, who had produced a handkerchief for her. Sarah wiped her eyes and said, “I think I'd like to dance after all,” and he led her away.

Everyone gathered around the dance floor to watch them, applauding as if she and Gil were young and in love, with their whole lives ahead of them. Sarah sang a little of the tune, making Gil say, “You sing like an angel,” and helping her remember that, with music, she could always say what she felt, even when the words failed her.

“C
an you
promise
I won't die on the trail?”

“Jesus, Elly.” Laura laughed. “Nobody has died riding with me yet.”

“Yeah, and riding General is like riding a
sofa
!” Anne said. “Right, Laura?” She and Laura started laughing.

“Hey. Know what's more annoying than an insider horse joke?” Elly said. “Listening to you two howl like hyenas on crack.”

This just made Laura and Anne laugh harder. Elly finally started laughing, too, as she waited for Laura to finish bridling and saddling her horse, trying not to mind that it was big and black, like some fire-breathing devil beast.

Laura led the horse over to the mounting block and helped Elly onto its back. Getting on a horse was harder than it looked, Elly discovered. She launched herself too vigorously into the saddle and probably would have slid right off the other side if Laura hadn't grabbed her calf.

“Easy there, cowgirl,” Laura said. “Put your feet in the stirrups. Don't let go of the pommel and you'll be fine.”

“What's a pommel?” Elly looked around. The only other time she'd ever been on a horse was at a California dude ranch—a director's misconceived idea of a team-bonding exercise for the production company—and that saddle was like a horse recliner, high up in front and back, so
there was plenty to hang on to. This saddle was English—she knew that much—and nearly flat.

“The pommel is the front of the saddle,” Anne said.

“Oh.” Elly tucked one entire hand under there. No way was she letting go.

This whole Sunday-morning riding expedition was not her idea. She was exhausted after their mother's birthday party last night and would have happily spent the day sprawled on Laura's sofa in front of the fireplace, watching baby Lucy chew on the Sunday paper and maybe dragging Ryder back to bed if the house emptied out. But she was flying back to California next Sunday with him, and this was the last day all of them were free, since Laura and Anne were working during the week and they were planning to scatter Dad's ashes on Saturday.

Two of the production gigs she'd been pursuing by phone had led to interviews with producers; one was for a TV spot, and the other was for a music video with a new talent from Australia. Ryder had convinced Elly to check them out. He had also assured her that he would consider moving to New England if she wanted to do that instead of staying in L.A.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Elly had asked, astounded.

“You've got a lot more water in Massachusetts than in California,” Ryder answered. “And a lot more sisters. Plus, no earthquakes or fires.”

“We have blizzards. You're forgetting about snow.”

“I'd like snow, I think,” he'd said. “You could teach me how to make a snow angel. Or an igloo. And I'm sure I could find work around Boston. It could be a good move for us, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Let's see how enthusiastic you feel about Massachusetts after I bring you home for Christmas and you get to experience the wonder of having to tunnel through six feet of snow in your sneakers.”

Finally, Laura got Elly settled on General and instructed her about the reins. This seemed pretty easy: all she had to do was pull the rein on the right and the horse turned that way. Ditto on the left. Easier than driving a car.

They set off down the road, walking the horses single file along the
shoulder since Route 127 was only two lanes. Elly didn't really need to steer the horse at all, since General plodded along with his nose practically buried in the tail of Anne's horse.

Anne was riding one of the boarders, a mare with the mysterious name of Cadno. The name meant “Fox” in Welsh, Laura said, which made sense, given the horse's shiny rust color. Laura's horse, Star, was a pretty mahogany color; his coat gleamed like polished wood. But Elly was glad she wasn't riding him. That horse pranced like he was on springs.

Elly had never bothered to learn to ride; she was too entranced by voice and dance lessons. Anne rode for a while, but she had never trained like Laura, and preferred riding the trails. Elly had once seen her little sister sitting backward on a horse. Another time, Anne had stood right up on a horse's bare back as it trotted around a ring.

Now Elly tried to imitate Anne's relaxed seat in the saddle. Though, unlike Anne, who didn't bother with stirrups despite Laura's admonishments, Elly kept her feet jammed in the metal rings.

As they rode, they discussed the party—all of them agreed it had gone better than they'd hoped and that Mom seemed happy—and talked about the sweet weirdness of watching Sarah dance with Gil toward the end of the night.

“God, they were like one of those old couples you see in Viagra ads on TV,” Laura said. “I mean, that guy couldn't take his eyes off her!”

“Please do
not
put that image in my head,” Elly said. She turned around to look at Laura, resting her hand on General's wide black rump. This horse really
was
like riding a sofa. A rocking sofa. Somebody should invent that.

“Yeah, and when I dropped Lucy off at Flossie's this morning, she told me Gil spent last night with Mom,” Anne added.

“Wow,” Elly said as they turned down the main trail leading to the tip of Halibut Point. (She'd refused on principle to ride in Dogtown, even with her sister-guards.) “You don't think this is some kind of sympathy screw? I mean, since Mom had a stroke and she's a widow, and his wife's dead, it's like the perfect Lifetime movie, right? Or a Nicholas Sparks novel for seniors.”

“A sympathy screw? Elly, ick!” Anne groaned.

“And who would be the one granting it, anyway?” Laura demanded.

“It's got to be Mom,” Elly said. “She feels sorry for him because he's a widower. Guys don't know what to do when their wives leave them or die.”

“Or maybe Gil feels sorry for
her
, because she had such a crap childhood and then her husband took off and died before coming home,” Anne said.

“Well, either way, they're perfect for each other,” Laura pronounced.

“What about Saturday? Do you think she'll actually come when we scatter Dad's ashes?” Elly asked.

“She told me she will,” Laura said. “Flossie says she'll help make sure Mom's there. I mean, it's kind of strange that we're not having a memorial service for him until summer, but I'm guessing Dad would rather have us spread his ashes now than leave him in the closet until then.”

They all laughed. Elly let her back relax a little more but kept a firm grip on the reins as they circled around to the far side of the Babson Farm Quarry, with its piano-sized chunks of granite piled here and there.

From there they passed the fire tower, then continued down a trail toward the water. The vegetation here consisted mostly of marsh grass and shrubs. Elly tried to remember the names their father had taught them—catbrier, shadbush, arrowwood, and bayberry—and wished she could remember which was which.

It was a clear day, but colder than the previous week. The wind here was fierce now that they were out from the shelter of the trees. Sea spray slammed against the rocks below and they had to shout to be heard. They stopped the horses for a few minutes to watch the birds feeding close to shore, mostly grebes and loons.

Elly told them about her job prospects in L.A., but of course all they wanted to hear about was Ryder. That made her start teasing Laura about Tom. Elly wanted to ask Anne about Sebastian—he'd be able to name these stupid bushes, for sure—but she didn't dare. She hadn't seen Sebastian at their mother's birthday party, even though Paige came with her husband.

Last night, when Elly and Ryder were getting ready for bed, she'd asked him why Sebastian hadn't come, but he'd only shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “I thought he would. We talked about it. But the guy's a cipher. Maybe your sister's better off without him.”

Anne had either been too busy at the party to notice Sebastian's absence, or else she was resigned to the fact that he wasn't into her. Either way, Ryder was probably right.

“Hey, Elly,” Laura called from behind her. “Ready to put the pedal to the metal?”

“Are you kidding? No way!” Elly patted her horse's neck. “General and I are happy poking along. We'll watch, if you two want to go crazy and race around.”

“It doesn't work that way with horses,” Laura said. “They're pack animals. If we let our horses run, General's going to want to come along.”

“Come on, Elly!” Anne said. “It'll be fun. And what can happen if you're between us? It's not like General can go anywhere.”

“Wait,” Elly said. “Let me think about this: no.”

They continued badgering her as they rode along Ipswich Bay, where it was clear enough to see the Isles of Shoals off the coast of New Hampshire and even Mount Agamenticus in Maine. Finally, as they turned away from the water along the path leading to Gott Avenue, Elly caved.

“Just for a minute, though. And if you hear screaming, put on the brakes.”

“Got it,” Laura said. “Go on, Anne. I'll stay behind her and make sure she doesn't fall off.”

“Gee, thanks,” Elly said. “I feel so confident now, knowing you'll be galloping behind me. I'll be in the perfect place to get trampled.”

Anne laughed. “Relax, Elly. Laura's horse won't trample you. Horses hate getting their hooves messy. And you're going to love this!” Suddenly she was off, urging her horse forward by leaning forward and squeezing her legs against its sides.

General seemed as startled as Elly: he reared his head up in surprise at the sight of Anne dashing away. And then, before Elly could imitate what Anne was doing with her posture and legs, the black horse was running flat out beneath her.

Elly laughed as the wind made her eyes tear. It was an incredible sensation. The horse's gait was so smooth that it felt like they were floating over the rocky trail. So this was why her sisters loved to ride.

“Holy hell, this is great!” she yelled back to Laura. Or at least she thought Laura was back there: she could hear nothing over General's hooves thundering beneath her.

They were gaining on Anne's horse. Then General thrust his head down, and no amount of pulling on the reins slowed his powerful gallop, even though Elly was yelling at him in no uncertain terms, “Whoa! Halt! Stop!” It was like the reins were attached to a concrete pylon.

“Oh, shit, I think he's got the bit between his teeth!” she heard Laura shout behind her.

“What does that even
mean
?” Elly shrieked as General put on another burst of speed, sailing past Anne's horse on the narrow trail.

“He's running away with her,” she heard Anne yell as she passed. “He's probably headed back to the barn!”

Well, Elly thought, if that was the case, all she had to do was hang on. Surely General would stop once he reached his stall and grain bin. She didn't have to turn him toward the stable: the horse definitely knew the way. She kept hold of the reins simply so they wouldn't dangle, absurdly worried that he might get his legs caught in them and fall.

They burst out of the trail and onto Gott Avenue, still a dirt road here, but wide enough that Elly didn't have to worry about being wiped off against a tree. She kept her body low against the horse's neck, afraid of throwing him off-balance. There must be a reason jockeys did this, she reasoned, just as she looked up and spotted a Jeep headed their way.

Elly heard Anne yell, “Car!”

Then both sisters were pulling up on their horses alongside her, essentially blocking General in and moving him over to the side of the road as the Jeep jerked to a stop. Anne leaned over and grabbed the black horse's reins.

“Jesus. What are you idiots
doing
?” Sebastian yelled as he climbed out of the Jeep.

“We're okay,” Laura called back. “Elly just got a little overexcited with having her own horse and all. She decided to race us back to the barn.”

Elly would have glared, but she felt so weak from delayed fright that she found herself sliding off the horse. Regrettably, she forgot to remove both feet from the stirrups before dismounting. The horse was too damn tall. She was left with one foot in the stirrup and the other not quite touching the ground.

“Ow, ow!” she yelped. “Doing the splits here, Sebastian. Help!”

Now Laura and Anne were laughing their hyena howls again, but Elly didn't care. All she could feel was grateful once Sebastian released her foot from the stirrup and caught her as her legs gave way.

Elly turned around to face her sisters. “I am never, ever going to ride with you two maniacs again.”

Then she limped away, leaving Sebastian holding the reins, getting as far as the Jeep before she collapsed against it.

•   •   •

Sebastian drove Elly back to the barn. Anne led General, meek as a mouse now, sandwiched tightly between her horse and Laura's.