“Do you like her?” Iris pressed. As Rose Gallagher’s sister, Iris Albright obviously thought she had family rights to ask awkward questions. Daisy knew she could answer flippantly or truthfully. By the look in her aunt’s eyes, she knew her aunt wanted the truth.
“I don’t know my mother very well. That’s horrible to say. But I don’t.”
Now Iris was the one who looked awkward, maybe thinking she shouldn’t have pressed. How was it that Daisy didn’t know her mother very well? She’d lived with her, her dad, and her sister until she’d gone to college. She’d always communicated with her father. Why hadn’t she been able to communicate with her mom?
Before her aunt could respond, Rose Gallagher came in the front door of the diner. She spotted them sitting in a booth and waved.
“It’s not your fault,” Iris said seriously in a low voice. “Remember that.”
Daisy’s aunt Iris had been leading up to something for weeks now. She wished Iris would just tell her mother’s secret, or Iris’s secret, or whoever had a secret. Twenty questions just made Daisy even more uneasy.
As Rose approached the booth, Daisy patted the red vinyl cushion beside her. “You can sit on my side,” she said with an easy smile. At least she hoped it was easy.
Rose gave a nod of her head as if she appreciated the gesture, slipped off her coat, and hung it on the hook that rose from the back of the booth. Then she set her purse on the seat next to Daisy and slid in. “Have you two ordered yet?”
Iris suddenly looked down at her menu. “No, we didn’t. We were talking.”
Daisy glanced from her mother to her aunt Iris, wondering all over again what was between them. Why had there always seemed to be an uneasiness or tension?
“What were you talking about?” Rose asked, innocently enough.
A bit nervously, Daisy stepped into the silent breach. The idea of these luncheons was to get to know her mother better. Maybe she could do that without bringing up anything controversial.
“Little things,” Daisy answered. A memory had come back to her while she and Iris were talking, so she used that as a conversation starter. “Do you remember the vacation we took to Ocean City when I was about six and Cammie was eight?”
Her mother’s brow creased with a serious line as she thought about it. Not even attempting to look at her menu, she nodded. “I do remember that. It was a terrifically hot summer. The air-conditioning unit at the garden center gave up the ghost. It was early September, the week before school began. Sales had diminished for the season, so your father and I decided to close up the nursery for a long weekend and take you and Cammie to the shore.”
“You were so relaxed on that trip. Do you remember why?” Daisy’s mom had seemed like a different person . . . away from the nursery and away from home.
Her mother gave a soft laugh. “I didn’t have any responsibilities. I couldn’t worry about the nursery because it was closed. I guess I could have worried that a tornado would blow through, but that seemed far-fetched. I also didn’t have any housework chores. We went to restaurants and bought takeout. The maids took care of the motel room. It was an enjoyable vacation.”
“Yes, it was. I remember the day Daddy took Cammie sailing. Neither of us wanted to go out on the water, so you and I played miniature golf and then visited the tourist shops. We bought Christmas presents.”
“I’m surprised you remember all that in such detail,” Rose said.
“I loved that time. We all got along so well.”
“You and Cammie didn’t even argue on that trip,” her mom mused. “I considered that totally amazing. It’s a shame we never repeated it.”
Other vacations had been sightseeing vacations or cabin vacations to cut the cost of going away. On sightseeing vacations, they’d rented a room with a kitchenette so they could make their own food and clean up after themselves. The same had been true of cabins. And when they camped, the chores were just chores. Daisy enjoyed the camping, her dad showing her the constellations as they lay in sleeping bags under the stars. Daisy had slept in a tent with Cammie, being a little afraid of what was outside in the dark . . . bonding in a way they didn’t at home. But her mother—On those vacations, there had always been something to worry about or plan or do. That one vacation had just been different.
“What made you think of Ocean City?” Rose asked.
“I was thinking of times we were all happy when we were together, other than holidays.”
“I see,” Rose said softly. “Weren’t you happy at other times, like when you won an award at school or helped plant flowers in the garden?”
“I was happy then too.” Daisy thought out loud as she added, “And when I helped Dad deliver trees or bushes to clients.” She stopped before she said too much. Whenever she’d helped her mom at the nursery, she’d felt as if Rose had been looking over her shoulder, just waiting to point out something if she did it wrong. When she’d helped her dad, they were . . . chums.
“What’s your favorite childhood memory?” Daisy asked her mother.
“My favorite memory was selling penny candy at the school carnival. I had a wonderful teacher that year. She picked me to manage the stand.”
Daisy thought it odd that one of her mom’s favorite memories didn’t include her parents or Iris.
Rose glanced at Iris. “What’s your favorite childhood memory?” Since Iris hadn’t contributed to the conversation, it was as if Rose was trying to draw her in. They were all trying.
“That’s an easy one. Remember when we found that beagle pup and we took care of him for a week?” Aunt Iris’s eyes lit up with the memory.
“We both loved that pup. We
