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Which was it to be? Should she view the letters as closure, or should she make contact with Ruth?
She hadn’t replied to a single one of Ruth’s letters. Her old friend knew nothing about her life, or even that she was still alive.
She thought about it for the whole afternoon, and while she was dressing for dinner. Her room was delightful, with antique furnishings, a hand-woven Zapotec rug and a cast-iron tub.
Ready early, she sat on the chair next to the bed and called Liza, who answered almost immediately even though it was past midnight.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. I was finishing off a painting in the summerhouse so Sean and I ate late. We only just finished clearing up. We stole a bottle of wine from your cellar.”
Kathleen smiled. “Steal away. You know how much I approve of indulgence.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. Are you all right, Mum?”
“Yes, although I’ve been thinking about those letters of course.”
“I’ve been thinking about them too.” There was a clatter in the background. “She had a happy life. You were partly responsible for that.”
“I don’t see it that way, but I’m pleased she was happy.”
“How is Arizona?”
“Hot.” Kathleen gazed out the window. “Tomorrow is the Grand Canyon, and I’m hopeful that Martha and Josh might get together.”
“Are you still matchmaking?”
“Shamelessly.”
Liza laughed. “Keep me posted on that. Sounds as if Martha could do with some fun in her life. And how about you? Have you decided whether you’re going to contact Ruth?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Well, if you want to talk about it, or think it through aloud, you know I’m here.”
“Thank you.” That wave of homesickness was back, unbalancing her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“You would have managed fine, the way you always have.”
“No.” She heard the clink of a glass and thought about Liza sitting in the kitchen of Oakwood Cottage, sipping chilled white wine from one of the pretty glasses she’d picked up on a trip to Venice. “I miss you, Liza. I wish you were here.”
“I miss you too—” Liza’s voice sounded strange. She cleared her throat. “You’re much better off with Martha. You know I’d be nagging you about your alcohol intake, too many burgers and late nights.”
“I’m lucky to have a daughter who cares so much.”
There was a pause. “Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Was she all right? Kathleen wasn’t sure.
“I’m fine, but—I love you, Liza. I love you very much. I don’t tell you that enough.” And now she’d finally said it, she wondered why it had taken her so long. It wasn’t as if her feelings had changed or deepened. The only thing that had changed was her ability to share those feelings.
It took Liza so long to respond Kathleen wondered if she’d hung up.
“Liza?”
“Yes, I’m here. I love you too. You know that.” There was another pause. “Are you sure you’re all right? If you’d like me to come, I can fly out tomorrow. I’ll get on the first flight.”
Kathleen felt emotion squeeze her chest. Oh how she wished her daughter was here, but she couldn’t ask that of her. “You have France soon. There must be so much to do.”
