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A thousand questions press on my consciousness, but there’s one question that rises above the others. “Why does Maeve have your sapphire ring? Did you give it to her?”
My mother brightens, her eyes shining with amusement. “Do you think she stole it?”
My cheeks redden. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Yes, I saw the hoopla about keeping Kingsette safe around town as I drove through. I hope you haven’t succumbed to that kind of groupthink. Your father and I raised you better than that.”
Because I can’t bring myself to admit the truth or make eye contact, I stare out the window.
“I see.” She makes her way to the window and pulls the curtains the rest of the way open, flooding the room with light, before pushing open a window. Fresh air pours in. “That’s better. It was smelling like a frat house in here.”
“The ring?” I prod. I need to know. I need to know how wrong I was about all of it.
My mother whirls on me. “I gave Maeve that ring because I couldn’t bring it with me, and I truly worried Darren might take it. It breaks my heart to admit that, but it’s true. Even though he seemed better, I just ...”
“You trust Maeve that much?”
She quirks an eyebrow. “You think you’re a better judge of character? You think that despite all I’ve been through, the way I’ve led this family for decades on my own, that I’m incapable of seeing through a lie. You think she talked me into giving her tens of thousands of dollars and then encouraged me to disappear? Do you know me at all, William?”
Hearing the accusation that’s been brewing in my mind, I see better the flaw in my reasoning. I’ve failed to give my mother any kind of agency, any responsibility for her choices. I’ve failed to take into account that my mother raised two boys by herself, kept one of Kingsette’s most historic inns running by herself. I’ve failed to remember that my mother has never needed someone to save her. She’s always saved herself.
They are nearly the exact same assumptions I made about Hope. The ones she has shown me time and time again aren’t true. That her loss made her incapable of deciphering what was right for her. That I knew better. Knew what she needed. All because I thought I had done grief right by locking it up, instead of letting it take up space. As if that were strength, and not the other way around.
I didn’t think I could feel lower than I had minutes earlier, but somehow I do.
“Maeve is like family to me now. For a long time this past year, she’s been the only one who has been like family to me.”
Her voice quiets as she lands this blow, which crashes into the soft space beneath my rib cage with stunning sharpness. The meaning is clear—Darren and I abandoned her, and Maeve hasn’t.
“Maeve helped me realize that I’m allowed to live my life on my terms, like she does. She helped me contact your grandmother and your father, who both confirmed they wanted me to be happy, in whatever way that meant.” A softness filters into my mother’s expression. “I think for a long time I was afraid that living on my own terms would be a betrayal of your father. Once Maeve helped me get in touch with him, I realized I didn’t need his permission to live. I just needed to give myself permission.”
I think of all the days and nights my mother spent at the Inn. I took it for granted that she wanted to be there. All along, she just felt trapped. Like me. Like Darren. I should have asked.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
My mother approaches me and puts a soft hand on my cheek. “I’m sorry you’ve had so much on your shoulders because of me. But I’m so proud of how well you’ve kept it all standing.” She takes a step back, nudging an empty Oreo package with her foot. “Mostly well, I should say. We probably should cover the basics of housekeeping.”
She pauses and looks at Maeve’s withering flowers on her windowsill. “And plant care. Assuming, that is, you’re planning to stick around.”
35
HOPE
A week passes. Then another. I can’t bring myself to go to Maeve’s. Luckily—or unluckily—the hospital’s been unusually busy, so Lydia hasn’t complained about my extra shifts.
Brandon didn’t come.
Will betrayed me.
And Maeve—I’m not sure I know who she is anymore. I don’t know what to make of the rumors that are supported by police reports.
All those truths hurt in ways that are wildly different and at the same time suspiciously similar.
A crystal Maeve gifted me scatters rainbows across the room, illuminating the piles of laundry, discarded water bottles, and books I started and never finished. Something about the contrast of glittering colors and dirty laundry makes me immeasurably sad, makes me want to run. This place—this room—isn’t my home.
Tanya’s soft knock on my door startles me from my thoughts. “Hope, are you okay? I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine. Just fighting off a cold.” For two weeks.
