“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Alice, it was a long time ago,” Karen said briskly, fighting more tears. “I’d forgotten all about it until now. I only came across it because I was cleaning out some boxes.”
Alice laughed. “That has to be a first.”
“What?”
“You not knowing what’s in every storage box. What else is in here?”
Karen deftly slid the lid into place. “Just some old lesson plans I’m going to throw out. I’ll do it now while you make tea.”
After the box was safely stowed in the back of the laundry cupboard and Karen had repaired her makeup, she joined Alice in the kitchen. Steam curled from a mug of Earl Grey tea, the bergamot scenting the air. It wasn’t Alice’s favorite tea and Karen appreciated her thoughtfulness.
“Thanks, darling. How was the group?”
“Really good. But hearing all the oldies’ stories about their lives and families has made me realize I don’t know much about our family.”
“Of course you do. You’ve met the cousins in Adelaide and southwest Queensland. And Grandpa did the family tree before he died. I think he traced the Hunters back to Germany and Scotland. Dad’s got a copy of it in the office somewhere.”
“I meant your family.”
The tea washed back into Karen’s throat, making her cough. “My parents died when I was seventeen and—”
“Then there was one.” Alice completed the sentence in the same tone Karen had always used when the twins had asked the question as little girls. “Surely you’ve got distant cousins out there who are still alive? Wouldn’t it be cool to find them? Ancestry.com has a huge data base so if you got your DNA tested—”
“No!”
Alice flinched and Karen immediately regretted her sharp tone. “Sweetheart, I’ve got you, Libby and your father, not to mention the little girls. That’s enough family for me.”
The disappointment dragging on Alice’s mouth told her she didn’t agree. Karen held her breath, trying to predict her daughter’s next question.
Alice sighed. “I guess I’ll ask Dad to look out the Hunter family tree.”
Karen relaxed. “Good idea. There are some great stories in there, including the failed gold miner who made his fortune selling provisions to other miners.” Determined to change the subject, she asked, “Are you in for dinner tonight?”
Alice shook her head. “No. I’m cooking with Holly and Hunter.”
“Why are you doing that?”
“Harry’s got an evening meeting at the school.”
Karen hadn’t met the Waxmans so she only knew what Alice had told her—widower with two kids. It was one thing for Alice to be tutoring the girl, it was another thing entirely to be the domestic help. “He better be paying you!”
“Mom!”
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me, Alice. Your time is valuable. Put a monetary value on it.”
“You never say that when I mind the girls.”
“That’s different. It’s family.”
“This from the woman who got an award for service to the bay community?” Alice laughed. “What happened to giving a helping hand?”
“I’ve seen too many of my friends become convenient cooks and cleaners for men who take the path of least resistance. Besides, I thought you said he was grumpy?”
“He is. That’s why I’m cooking with the kids while he’s out of the house.”
The corrosive worry that had been a part of Karen since Alice’s unexpected arrival into her arms all those years ago dug in. Her younger daughter was too kind. Too giving. Too open to be hurt. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Of what?”
“Of being used.”
Alice shot to her feet. “What’s wrong with you? You raised us to think of others and be involved in our community. Now you’re saying be selfish?”
“Sometimes it’s important to put yourself first.”
“And sometimes—No! Make that all times, you have to accept that your daughters are adults and capable of making their own decisions.” Alice jerkily pushed the chair under the table. “I think it’s time I moved out.”
Karen didn’t know if it was the tone of Alice’s voice or the way her eyes glittered, but the past rose in a rush, bringing with it a geyser of panic. “If you had a real job instead of these stop-gap ones, then you could afford to move out.”
“How I live my life is not your concern!”
Only Alice had it wrong. From day one, she’d always been Karen’s beautiful, ethereal concern.
Chapter Fourteen
June
Thursdays were Libby’s long days, but tonight she’d managed to leave the practice just after 7:00. She arrived home to find the girls bathed, fed and cuddled up on the couch with Nick. The rich aroma of oregano, wine and nutmeg permeated the kitchen, there was a bottle of merlot open and breathing on the counter and a huge bunch of purple irises were arranged majestically in a vase. Nick, who’d usually only ever bought her flowers on her birthday, had been buying her a bunch each week. She couldn’t deny he was working hard at showing he was committed to her and the girls, but an unbridgeable chasm continued to exist between them. It was keeping her in the guest room.
“Mommy!” Indi jumped up and ran to her. “Read me a story!”
“Give Mommy time to put her bags down.” Nick rose from the couch and kissed her on the cheek.
Libby automatically stiffened and his lips barely brushed her skin before he stepped back. Loss settled over her. Why couldn’t she control this instinct to recoil?
Nick lifted her computer bag from her shoulder. “Normal day?”
What was normal anymore? “Pretty much. No emergencies, but I had to give a patient the bad news that his cancer has spread and all we can do is keep him comfortable. That never gets any easier.”
“Sorry to hear that.” His sympathy was genuine and he swept his arm out toward the open bottle. “I thought we’d eat after the girls are in bed, but would you like a glass of wine now?”
“Sure.” She forced herself to add, “Thanks.”
Seating herself on the couch between her daughters, she picked up the story where Nick had left off. It was an evening identical to so many they’d shared before the
