Not My Mother by Miranda Smith (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📕

seat and placing her in the portable playpen we leave up behind the counter. Another item untouched by investigators.

“I just had a lengthy talk with your little friend across the street.”

“Holly?” I collapse into a chair, bracing for the story. “What’s she saying?”

“It’s what she’s asking. Did you know Eileen’s real name was Sarah Paxton? Do you think this scandal could impact North Bay’s tourism?” Des mocks Holly’s voice. “Someone should tell her she’s not in charge just because she runs the town’s biggest hotel.”

“Holly Dale loves any opportunity to put people in their place.”

I’m pretending to blow off Holly’s suggestion, but unfortunately, it has merit. This town functions on tourists in the summer months. It has crossed my mind more than once that Mom’s arrest could hurt The Shack just as our busiest season begins. Either that, or the people that do show up will be true crime sickos seeking information about the case.

“Did she say anything else?”

“She wants to know about the hotel’s ad campaign. I got the feeling she wants to drop The Shack from her list of recommendations.”

“She can’t do that,” I say, slamming my hand on the tabletop. “If people start disassociating from us publicly, that will tank the restaurant.”

“That’s my fear, too. These people have known Eileen as long as I have. I can’t believe they’re so quick to turn their back on her.”

Unfortunately, I think Des is on her own. It’s natural for people to be shocked and outraged by what Mom did. I know I am. Des chooses to see the best in Mom, ignore the evidence against her, but not everyone will make that choice. Still, whether people’s reasons are warranted or not, if The Shack goes down, Des and I will also plummet.

“I’ll handle Holly Dale,” I say. “This isn’t the first time she’s tried to pull a power card.”

“Not that you don’t have enough on your plate.” Des places both hands on the counter. “What made you decide to stop by?”

“I actually need a favor,” I say, looking around the place. She’s done a lot of work since the police search, and I feel guilty for not pitching in. My mind has been elsewhere. Right now, it’s across town with Amelia Parker.

Behind me, I hear the whooshing of the front door as it opens. Michael walks inside carrying a big box. Penny and Preston run out from behind him, chasing each other to the pinball machine.

“Michael and the little rascals are here to help me set some stuff up,” Des says, walking around the counter. “I’m aiming to open up in a couple of days.”

Michael walks over and leans in for a hug. I’m not used to seeing him in the middle of the day like this. Now that he’s in between jobs, I’m sure he’s looking for any excuse to get out of the house.

“Where’s Carmen?” I ask him.

“She’s in court.” He starts sifting through the box he carried in.

Has there been another development in the case? Events have unfolded in such quick succession, like a flapping deck of cards, it’s hard to keep up with everything.

“Is something happening with Mom?”

“No, it’s one of her other cases.”

Another twinge of guilt. Mom’s case has uprooted my own life so much, I’m ignoring that people have responsibilities outside of it.

“I forgot she has other clients,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “She spends most her time worrying about Mom.”

“She wouldn’t have it any other way. Eileen’s case is her top priority. How’s your mom doing, by the way?”

“Surgery went well,” I say, although he probably already knows that much from Carmen. “Doctors are keeping me updated, but she’s still not awake.”

“She’ll pull through.” He says it like it’s a fact, not a wish.

“So, what did you need?” Des asks, draping a dishrag over her shoulder.

“I was wanting you to watch Ava for an hour or so, but since your hands are full—”

“Nothing’s full here. I can do it. What’s going on?”

I open my mouth and close it. I don’t want to tell anyone I’m meeting Amelia. Des would think it’s a betrayal. She wouldn’t understand this is my way of trying to understand what happened back then. It’s best I keep Amelia a secret for now.

“Just looking into a few things,” I say. “For the case.”

“Do you need my help with anything?” Michael asks.

“No, I’m fine. I just need a little bit of space.”

“Take all the time you need,” Des says.

Preston and Penny gather around Ava, helping her stack primary-colored blocks on the floor. I kiss her forehead before I leave.

18 MarionNow

Pier 15 is too far south for tourists, which is why it’s a local favorite. That and because Crabby’s Coffee is nearby. As usual, I take off my sandals, leaving them by the entry ramp so I can feel the sand beneath my feet. The sensation brings peace. So much of my life has been lived on this shore. Celebratory meals and firework shows and first dates. It never occurred to me it would also be the perfect place to hide away from the rest of the world.

Crabby’s Coffee is about the size of a food truck. It’s painted bright blue with a few local artists’ murals coloring the sides. The large takeout window makes it easy for patrons to order drinks and snacks on the beach, and there are circular tables spread around for outdoor dining.

That’s where I spot Amelia. She already has a drink in hand. She remains seated, watching me. Once I’ve ordered my coffee, I approach her, and she stands.

“Would you like to sit?”

“I thought a walk might be nice,” I say. I bring a hand to my forehead, blocking out the sun so I can see further down the beach. As expected, there aren’t many people.

We begin walking. For several minutes we’re both silent, unsure where to start. How do you begin a conversation with someone who was meant to play a critical role in your life, who instead turned out