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“Come tomorrow. We’ll take a picnic to the beach. We could swim if we’re feeling brave. We have so much to catch up on. Where are you living?”
“In my mother’s house.” Angie selected a jar of jam from the shelf. “My home, now. She died last year and I came over to sell it, but then decided to keep it. It’s small, but there’s room for Poppy to come and stay. Did you have more children?”
“No. The twins kept me busy!”
“I can imagine.” Angie gave Liza a hug. “It’s good to see you. Until tomorrow.”
Liza felt Angie’s hair brush her cheek, breathed in her floral scent.
She clung for a moment. She missed friendship. She missed intimacy.
Having hauled her many purchases back to the car, she arrived back at Oakwood Cottage feeling a thousand times better than she had when she’d started that morning.
She unpacked the food, put a selection onto a plate and the rest in the fridge.
Feeling decadent, she opened a bottle of wine, poured herself a glass and took it out onto the patio.
Popeye sat there, licking his fur. He paused long enough to throw her a look of disdain, and then carried on his grooming ritual.
“Have you always been this emotionally distant, or have you learned it from my mother?” Liza sat down, feeling summery in her new shorts and T-shirt, her feet finally comfortable in pretty flip-flops.
Her mother was right. She needed to try and capture this light, holiday feeling all year round, not only for a few weeks in August.
The rest of the afternoon and evening stretched ahead.
She should probably use the time cleaning her mother’s house, but she had no intention of doing that. The dust could stay where it was. She had better things to do.
She noticed a missed call from her mother on her phone and felt a flicker of concern. Her mother rarely called her. Liza was the one who did the calling.
She sat in a shady spot on the patio and sipped her wine while she waited for her mother to answer. When she did, her voice was faint and a little groggy.
“Mum? Did I wake you?” Had she calculated the time difference incorrectly? “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is better than all right. I’m living the dream.”
Something about her voice didn’t sound quite right. It was unsettling to realize she didn’t know her mother well enough to be able to read her. “Are you sure? You called me.” And that’s not like you.
“I’m sure. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do Route 66? Martha is taking wonderful photographs.”
“I’m enjoying them. Please thank her. Where are you exactly?”
There was a pause and Liza heard muffled voices in the background before her mother came back on the line.
“Martha tells me we’re staying somewhere outside Springfield, and today we’re driving through Kansas. How about you? Are you calling me from the car while you take the twins somewhere?”
“I’m not in the car.” Liza stretched out her legs, admiring her new sandals. “I’m drinking wine on your patio, having enjoyed an excellent lunch from the deli in the village that you recommended.”
“You’re in Oakwood?”
“Why so surprised? You asked me to come here, remember?”
“Yes, but I never thought—” Her mother’s voice tailed off. “You went to the deli? Try the mini goats’ cheese tartlets—they’re divine. And Sean would love the chocolate brownie.”
“Sean isn’t here, but I’ll buy some for myself next time I’m there.”
There was a pause. “You’re on your own?”
“Yes. I came to check on Popeye, as I promised you I would.” She glanced at the cat but saw nothing even vaguely approaching gratitude in its feline features. “And yesterday I found a stranger in your kitchen.”
