“It’s too much, Anne.” Dawn turned to her, looking thoroughly agitated.
“What is?” Anne asked, perplexed.
“All of it. This crowd. Family is one thing, but I’ve had it with these guests.”
“The guests are way quieter than we are,” Claire protested.
“I’ve been very patient, Anne. But you said one summer. It’s too many people.”
“This house has always been crowded,” Anne argued quietly. “It’s always had this many people.”
“At least that was for a good cause,” Dawn said sharply.
Anne flinched. And before she could say anything else, her mother turned and retreated up the stairs.
“Kaleo’s sleeping on your bed,” Akemi warned her.
“I know!” Dawn snapped back, already halfway up the stairs.
“It’s our fault,” Akemi said when she had gone. “Kaleo woke up screaming at one in the morning, and Mom’s been in a mood all day.”
“That’s my fault, though,” Anne said wearily. “This is the last night we have anyone booked in your room. After that, you get it back for good. I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t supposed to be back this soon anyway,” Akemi said with a shrug. “I’m going to make some mamaki tea, maybe add a bit of chamomile. You want some?”
“That sounds great. Thank you.” Anne sank into one of the kitchen chairs.
Her mother made her feel like such a disappointment.
Dawn’s general attitude towards Anne implied that her only biological daughter had never lived up to whatever ineffable standards she had set decades before.
There had always been a faint disapproval in the way that Dawn looked at her when she spoke up, as if she were completely selfish and shallow. Even when she was still just a kid herself, she was never allowed to be upset; all of the other kids who came through their house had lived through worse.
Don’t be selfishwas the mantra of their childhood. Dawn must have said it to her a thousand times, any time that she had the temerity to complain or ask for more.
Eventually, she stopped asking. She made herself small, escaped to the woods, and planned to leave the island altogether. An utterly selfish decision, in the end, compounded by her decision to leave the daughter she’d had at seventeen.
At some point during Dawn’s outburst, Zoe had slipped quietly out the back door.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Anne said quietly.
“Moms, am I right?” Claire said from the sink.
“Give us the room.” Oakley’s voice was kind but firm.
“I’m doing dishes,” Claire protested.
“I’ll finish the dishes.”
“Deal!” Claire tossed the sponge down.
“Go on, get.”
“I’m coming back in ten minutes to check the cookies!” she shouted as she ran up the stairs.
Oakley shook her head and then crossed the kitchen to rub Anne’s back.
“I don’t know where else to go, but I can’t live here anymore. She’s driving me crazy. And she lost her patience withmea while ago.”
