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But the missing girl hadn’t just been anyone; she’d been Penny, her sister. This was another thing Rina had never told Steve about. “My sister went missing when she was fifteen” didn’t flow naturally over burritos and margaritas. Besides, hadn’t Rina done her best to shove her sister's memory as deep into the belly of her soul as she could? Penny had been her best friend, an extension of herself. And then, one afternoon after school, Rina had stayed late to work on a paper with a boy she’d liked—and Penny had walked home alone. She’d never made it.
At the Santa Monica Pier, Rina miraculously found parking and stepped out onto the sands. The Pacific Ocean lapped gently along the beach, and the Ferris wheel circled overhead, churning its tourists through the cotton-candy blue sky.
Rina had several missed calls and texts from Steve. It wasn’t like them to go more than a day or two without speaking. But she’d left in a wild rush on New Year’s Day without an explanation, and he’d been staggering with confusion ever since.
STEVE: Do you have any time to talk today?
STEVE: I thought of you today when I was making guacamole. Why is yours so much better?
STEVE: Isabelle was wondering if you’d be back in January at all? She wants to go shopping with you. She says you have the best style. And you know I can’t help her! Ha.
STEVE: Please. Call. When you can.
Rina gritted her teeth and thought long and hard about calling Steve. Just as always when they were apart, she missed him in every part of her body and soul and longed to have his arms around her. She could hear his voice in her head, asking her silly questions or talking about himself and his life. Since they’d met last spring, they’d kissed exactly eight times and cuddled several more. Once, they’d very nearly “gone all the way,” which was a stupid phrase teenagers used that Rina had now begun to use in her own mind. But Steve was terrified of so much. Losing Laura had killed something in him.
Maybe Rina’s mother’s accident was a sign. Maybe it was proof Rina needed to stop dallying her life away out East.
Instead of calling, Rina texted.
RINA: Tell Isabella I’ll try to get out there before spring. I miss her.
RINA: My father just wrote to say Mom’s awake. It’s the first time she’s been conscious since the accident.
Steve wrote back right away.
STEVE: Send them both my love.
Rina wanted to laugh. Her parents had no idea who Steve was. Since she’d met Steve, she’d hardly spoken to them at all. Once, she’d mentioned to them she was on Martha’s Vineyard—but they’d assumed she was just on a case, and she hadn’t corrected them. Since Martha’s Vineyard had started out with a case, it hadn’t felt like a lie.
Rina returned to her car and drove the rest of the way to the hospital, which was a two-story burnt-brown building that hunkered low to the ground. Out front, EMT workers took breaks by their ambulances, talking quietly as she strode past them and headed toward her mother’s area of the hospital. Now that her mother had finally woken up, they’d moved her to a different ward.
Rina was surprised to find her father downstairs, buying a cup of coffee from a machine. He was ashen, and his gray hair was in wild clouds above both ears, but his eyes echoed relief. Since Rina’s return on New Year’s Day, they’d hardly said more than a few words to one another. Now, he said, “Where did you go?”
Rina sensed the accusation behind the question. Despite the years of grievances and bad blood between them, it was still beyond her father’s comprehension that she’d dared miss the exact moment her mother awoke.
“I had to go downtown for a few hours,” Rina said.
“To do what?”
Rina swallowed the lump in her throat. Too distraught to do anything else, she’d popped in to see her childhood friend, Carmella, one of the only people in the world who understood the difficult dynamics between Rina and her parents. She’d wanted advice. Ultimately, Carmella had offered a shoulder to cry on as she’d muttered, “Your parents are difficult, Rina. They’ve always been that way.”
“It was for a job,” Rina lied.
Her father’s face was stony. “Who went missing?”
“I’m not going to take the job.”
Her father took a step toward her, nearly spilling his coffee from the Styrofoam cup. “Your mother would want you to find whoever it is.”
“They’ve already been found,” Rina said, raising her chin. “Let’s go see Mom. Okay?”
* * *
Rina’s parents, Wally and Ellen, had met as teenagers at Santa Monica High School and married shortly after graduation. Theirs was a story of love and joy that shouldn’t have allowed a missing teenage girl. When Penny hadn’t made it home that long-ago afternoon, Wally and Ellen had a decision to make. They could either blame one another or come together stronger than before. Ultimately, they’d decided on the latter. This incredible bond that had resulted hadn’t allowed for anyone else. They’d left Rina in the metaphorical cold. In many ways, they’d stopped thinking about themselves as parents the moment Penny didn’t come home.
But this lack of care for Rina had allowed Rina incredible freedom. She’d used that freedom to look for Penny—a herculean task that hadn’t resulted in anything more than a few useless clues. But throughout this search, Rina had learned more about herself and the world than she’d ever known possible. And she’d cultivated skills she’d later used as a private investigator. It dramatically altered the course of her life.
Now, so many years after Penny didn’t come home from school that day, Rina walked into the hospital room to find her mother, Ellen, half asleep in a hospital bed. Light shimmered in from the open window, and the seventy-five-degree temperature made it difficult for Rina to remember that just last week, she’d been up to her knees in snow on Martha’s Vineyard.
