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“Well, mostly I have to take them at face value. Because in all honesty, the ones I think are probably fake are often the ones that get the most follow-ups from real people. Sometimes from the letter-writers themselves, and sometimes from readers saying, ‘It meant a lot to know someone else has gone through this.’ People have crazy lives.”
Sophie shook her head. “Tell me about it. My mom disappeared when I was five, and that was just the start of that screwed-up story.”
The sangria was making Isabelle too sensitive. She knew it was. But she still reached out and wrapped her arm around Sophie. “I’m so sorry.”
She couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for a little girl. To live without a mom, wondering if she’d just walked away from her family. She’d lost her own father like that but as an adult, and it had still been devastating. Isabelle couldn’t say that, so she swallowed her tears and said, “My mom died in a car crash when I was sixteen. With how hard that was, I can’t imagine being five and not even knowing what happened.”
Sophie squeezed her back. “I’m so sorry. As a teenage girl, that must have been awful.”
“It was. I missed her so much. We were a lot alike. Back then, anyway. And I needed her.”
Sophie hugged her hard and then pushed her away. “Shit, Isabelle, don’t make me cry.”
“You made me cry first.”
Jill stood up. “Nope. It is too early in the night to get maudlin. You women are supposed to be cheering me up. So let’s get off this subject and party. Turn up the music. I’ll get the pie.”
CHAPTER TEN
TOM SHRUGGED ON his coat as his breath turned into a cloud in the cold. The temperatures were dropping like crazy tonight. Mary’s boots squeaked against the dry snow. “They’re starting to wrap up,” he said, tipping his head toward the cabin porch.
“Thank God. I’m ready for bed.”
“If you want to walk Jill home, I can drive Veronica back and then swing by and pick you up. Jill can come back for her car tomorrow.”
Mary’s scornful look said it all. “Why would I want to walk Jill home?”
He shrugged. “Fine. I wanted you to meet her. She’s kick-ass and single.”
“From what I heard from the porch, she’s on the rebound.”
“We’re not in our twenties anymore, Mary. You’re capable of negotiating a rebound.”
She rolled her eyes. “I tell you what. We’ll both drive Veronica home and drop Jill off on the way.”
“Right,” he said. “Okay.” But he didn’t move.
“Or you could stay here and chitchat with Isabelle and leave later. Isn’t that what you’re here for anyway?”
Yes. It was. Beyond that, he liked listening to her talk with her friends. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t want to leave just because Jill and Veronica were dead tired. It was only ten thirty. “Deal. I’d rather walk anyway. It clears my head.”
“Mmm-hmm. Just be careful, Tom.”
He met her eyes and nodded. He’d be careful. He had to be. “Call me if anything comes up.”
He walked Jill down the stairs and promised to load all the plates and pans into her car for the morning. “I could just drive it over now,” he offered for the second time, but she shook her head.
“I’ve had that car for twenty years. I won’t have some man sliding it off into the trees for me. You’re no mountain man, Tom. It’ll wait until morning.”
“I’m seriously offended.”
“I don’t care.”
He helped Veronica into the front seat and waved them away. Tom should be heading back to answer emails. He knew that. But Isabelle had loosened up enough to mention her mother. And there was no mistaking her Chicago accent at this point. It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely there.
If he got her to talk for a few more minutes, maybe this would no longer be sneaking around. Maybe she’d just tell him, and then he could forget his suspicions and concentrate on her.
The living room was empty when he walked back in, but he could hear the women talking in one of the bedrooms. Tom started picking up dishes and carrying them to the kitchen to load into the dishwasher. Their laughter echoed down the hallway and made him smile as he took off his gun and set it on the counter.
