“Who’s everyone?”
“Your mom. Brett.” Liddy came around from behind the counter.
“Brett? You mean the police chief?” Grace frowned. “Why would he . . .” It was as if lightning had struck her brain. Her jaw visibly dropped.
“Oh my God. The cop? Seriously? My mom and the cop . . . ?”
Liddy squeezed her eyes shut. “Whoops.”
Chapter Twenty
NATALIE
Daisy burst through the back door, her hands filled with shells. Natalie followed, towels hanging off her shoulder.
“We were waiting,” Daisy announced to Grace, who was loading the morning’s breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.
“Waiting for what, pumpkin?” Grace asked.
“She means wading,” Natalie explained as she hung the damp towels over the back of a chair.
“That’s what I said.” Daisy held up one bare foot. “A shell scratched my toe, and I bleeded. And we had sand on our feet, so we couldn’t put our shoes on.”
Grace leaned over as far as she could to inspect the cut. “Yes, I see. Need a Band-Aid?”
Daisy nodded. “One with Olaf.”
“I don’t know if Nana has any Olaf Band-Aids. You might have to settle for a plain one.” Natalie went into the powder room and came back empty handed. “I thought Mom might have left a box in there, but I didn’t see one. We’ll have to ask her when she comes in.”
“Comes in from where?” Grace asked.
“She’s out front talking to someone in a police car. When I first saw it parked out there, I got scared that something happened while I was gone. But she’s just talking.”
“Police car?” Grace went to the front window and peered out. “Yup, it’s him, all right.”
“Him who? Who’s him?” Natalie laughed from the doorway. “Who are you talking about?”
“Chief Crawford. Brett Crawford.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s him.”
“Grace, you’re not making any sense.” Natalie went back into the kitchen and lifted Daisy onto a stool at the island. “Let me look at that little cut again. Oh, it looks fine, Daisy. It’s already closed itself up.”
“I can’t believe she’s out there talking to him so publicly.” Grace was scowling as she came through the doorway.
“So? What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that Brett Crawford, the police chief—you know who he is, right?”
“Sure. Daisy and I ran into him in the coffee shop yesterday. So what?”
“He’s Joe’s father, Nat,” Grace whispered.
Natalie wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Say again?”
Grace spoke slowly and deliberately, pronouncing every word distinctly. “Brett Crawford is Joe Miller’s father.”
“And you know this how?” Natalie got a juice box from the fridge for Daisy and the pitcher of ice tea for herself.
“Liddy. She slipped yesterday.”
“Really? Huh.” Natalie thought for a moment, then grinned. “Well, he is sort of hunky. I’ll bet he was really hot when they were in high school. Yeah, I could totally see Mom with him.”
“Is that all you can say? He’s a middle-aged hunk?”
“I didn’t say middle-aged. But yeah, he’s very good looking.” Natalie poured herself a glass of ice tea and offered some to Grace, who declined. “I wonder if Mom kept her high school yearbooks.”
“Really, Nat? You want to see if there are pictures of them together?”
“Why not? I bet they were really cute. I’ve seen pictures of Mom from back then, and she was a knockout. And now that I think about it, I could totally see him being an athlete. He’s still a big guy, shoulders still broad. And yeah, he still looks really good. So what’s your problem?”
“Doesn’t it bother you he was so awful to her about . . . you know.” Grace glanced at Daisy, who was paying attention. “About Joe? And then she sells our house in Bryn Mawr and moves here knowing he’s here?”
“Hey, neither of us knows how things went down between them back then. And the house was hers to sell or to keep. And furthermore . . .” Natalie had started to return the pitcher to the refrigerator when Maggie walked in, and she fell silent.
“Wow, it’s really heating up out there. I guess it’s really summer,” Maggie said.
“I need a Band-Aid, Nana,” Daisy told her. “An Olaf one.” She held up her foot for Maggie to inspect her cut.
“Nat, don’t put away the tea.” Maggie turned her full attention to Daisy. “I’m afraid I do not have any Olaf Band-Aids. But we can walk into town and see if the drugstore has any. Would you like to do that?”
Daisy nodded. “I would.”
“You drink your juice, and I’ll have a glass of ice tea, and then we can go.” Maggie reached for the glass Natalie had filled for her. “Thank you, Nat.”
“So Mom.” Natalie grinned. “You and Chief Crawford, huh?”
“Oh, we were just talking.” Maggie waved her off. “Oh, wait. You mean . . .”
Natalie nodded. “Grace spilled the beans.”
“And who spilled to Grace?” Maggie asked. “Wait, let me see if I can figure this out.” Maggie did her best Church Lady imitation. “Hmm. Who could it be? Could it be . . . Liddy?”
“She thought I knew, Mom,” Grace said in Liddy’s defense.
“And now you do.” Maggie sipped her tea. “Is there something you wanted to say about that?”
“Nope.” Grace pretended to zip her mouth closed.
“Natalie?” Maggie turned to her.
“Just that I could totally see you together, and he’s still a hunk. Oh, and you could have just told us.”
“Yes, because telling you the rest of it went over so well.” Maggie shook her head. “Anything else you want to know?”
“Yes. Did you move back here to be with him?” Grace asked.
“No. Did I know he lived here? Sure, I did. Did I plan on seeing him? Only when it couldn’t be avoided.”
“You could have avoided seeing him just now,” Grace pointed out.
“When I moved here, things were different than they are now,” Maggie told her.
“Because of Joe.”
“Of
