by Brenda Novak
But she’d decided she wouldn’t allow herself to return for the wrong reasons. She couldn’t use her marriage as a crutch. Doing that would ultimately keep her from building a more fulfilling life, one in which she wouldn’t be subjected to the constant reminder of Mark and Francine’s betrayal.
She was right to divorce Mark. And to stay out of the way and let Finn move on. But when she imagined telling Mark to go home without her, she wasn’t convinced she could do it, after all. Maybe she’d been foolish to think she ever could.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
31
serenity
UNCLE VANCE DIDN’T seem surprised to see her—at least not that Serenity could tell. She didn’t mention that she’d left him three messages, all of which he’d ignored, and neither did he. He proved as unruffled, jovial and easygoing as ever.
When the five of them, including her brother Beau, who’d arrived only an hour before Vance, sat down for dinner, Serenity was eager for a taste of her mother’s cooking, but her anxiety made it hard to enjoy the meal.
At least when Vance was around, it was easy to forgive him for whatever character flaws he possessed. In these more social moments, it didn’t seem to matter that he couldn’t keep a job and often needed financial help. He told one funny story after another and always had something interesting to contribute when someone else was talking. Even Serenity’s mother softened toward him. By the time they were on dessert, she was laughing as much as anyone, and treating Vance in a much friendlier way than Serenity would’ve expected given what she’d said about him in the car.
While Serenity listened, she surreptitiously watched Charlotte and her uncle. Not even once did Vance look at her mother strangely, touch her in an inappropriate way, whisper in her ear or do anything else that might suggest they shared a romantic past.
Serenity might’ve talked herself out of what she’d come to accomplish. Her family seemed fine, just as they’d always been. All she had to do was leave them alone.
But Reagan and Lorelei were proof that something wasn’t right—or hadn’t been thirty-five years ago—and Vance had to be involved in some way.
“Hey, why are you so quiet tonight?”
Startled by Beau’s voice, which came from behind her, Serenity whirled around. She hadn’t realized her brother had followed her into the kitchen. He stopped to fill his water glass while she covered the carrot cake she’d just served. “I’m tired, I guess.”
“Mom says you’re spending the summer in Tahoe.”
“Yeah. It’s been nice.”
“I can’t wait to get out of school. Maybe I’ll be able to use the cabin next summer.”
She was glad he wasn’t coming this summer. If he did, she’d need some notice or she’d have a lot of explaining to do. “I bet you’d enjoy it.” She nudged him aside so she could put the cake in the fridge. “How’re your classes going?”
“I’m...managing.”
Was he, though? She knew their mother was worried about him. His grades had dropped and Charlotte had said he rarely came home these days. “Everything okay?”
“Absolutely.”
He answered with conviction, but something was off; she could tell. “Beau?”
He stared at his feet for several seconds before lifting his gaze. “Everything’s fine, Serenity. Really.”
Then why had there been such a marked change in him? “I’m glad to hear that.” She studied his face, searching for clues. “So...what’s the latest? What’s going on?”
Although she sensed he was somewhat reluctant, he let his breath go in an audible sigh and said, “I might as well tell you. I’m getting married.”
She stepped back. “Wow! Are you kidding? Since when? Do Mom and Dad know?” And why the hell was he so somber about it?
“Not yet. I’m looking for the right time to tell them. I was going to do it tonight—” he hooked his thumb over his shoulder and lowered his voice “—until Uncle Vance showed up.”
“Your engagement must’ve happened fast. The last time I talked to you, you said you weren’t dating anyone. Who’s the lucky girl? How long have you known her?”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“What is it?”
“His name’s Trevor,” he said. “I met him last year at Coachella, so I was dating someone when you asked me before. We’ve been together for months.”
Stunned, she took a moment to process this information. “But...you never... My God, Beau, you’re twenty-four years old. Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I don’t know.” His hair fell over one eye as he hunched forward and shoved his hands in his pockets. “As great as Mom and Dad have always been, I’m the only boy in the family. I was afraid they’d be disappointed, even if they wouldn’t admit it.”
“You obviously don’t know how much they love you—how much we all love you. Why would we care who you marry? We just want you to be happy.”
He looked up at her. “I hope that’s true, because I am happy now—happier than I’ve ever been.”
So that was why his grades had fallen. His attention had shifted. He was hiding a secret of his own—and maybe missing too many classes so he could hang out with his new love interest. “When’s the big day?”
“We haven’t set a date. Trevor came out when he was young. His parents are cool with it. But he wants to wait until I tell Mom and Dad, so both families can be on board.”
“And you’ve decided not to do that tonight?”
“It’ll be hard enough without having someone outside our immediate family listening in. I’d rather not put them on the spot.”
“I understand.” She gave him a hug. “You’re sweet to be so empathetic. You’ve always been special. Trevor is a lucky man, and I can’t wait to meet him.”
He flipped his hair out of his eyes as he smiled. “Thanks. Let’s go out for a drink after Mom and Dad go to bed tomorrow night.”
“Why not tonight?”
“I’m supposed to meet up with some old friends.”
“No problem,” she said. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
He started to walk back to the dining room, where their mother and father were still talking and laughing with Vance while finishing their coffee, but she caught his arm. “What do you think of Vance, by the way?”
“What do you mean? He’s our uncle.”
“I know, but...do you like him?”
Lines creased his forehead. “Maybe he goes from job to job and keeps calling Mom and Dad for money, but he’s pretty cool to hang out with.”
“Yeah, I agree.” There was so much more she wanted to ask her brother about what he might remember from when they were younger. Had he ever heard their parents say anything that might shed some light on the situation with Reagan and Lorelei? Had he ever seen Uncle Vance treat their mother in a way that might suggest their relationship ran deeper than anyone had previously believed?
Maybe Beau’s experience was different from hers. Maybe he knew something she didn’t.
She wished she could swear him to secrecy and explain the whole thing, but Beau deserved to be happy about his engagement. He didn’t need to worry about this, especially now.
“Are you coming?” he asked when she made no move to follow him out of the kitchen.
She shook her head. “I’m going to start the dishes.”
* * *
lorelei
The car in Finn’s driveway hadn’t moved. When Mark picked her up for dinner, she tried not to stare at it, or to imagine what was going on inside the cabin with Finn and this other woman, but it was impossible. She’d let herself fall into a rebound relationship, and now she had to get over that, too.
“I’ve heard this place is really good,” Mark said, oblivious to her preoccupation.
“Oh, really?” Lorelei wasn’t hung
ry.
He tried to take her hand, but she pretended she had to get some lip gloss out of her purse and used the mirror on the visor to put it on.
He talked about Lucy and what they’d done and seen this week, and she listened attentively until he pulled into the restaurant lot. “It’s great that you’ve been able to spend so much quality time with her,” she said as he parked.
Although she’d made a pleasant comment, he gave her a funny look, as though he was underwhelmed by her response. No doubt he preferred to hear her say she was glad he’d come to Tahoe for her sake, not just Lucy’s. But she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t glad he’d interrupted her summer with her sisters—except that now she had the opportunity to tell him it was over and possibly make him believe it. The more certain she felt about her decision, the more eager she was to break free.
He walked around to help her out of the car. “I hope... I hope you’re keeping an open mind, Lorelei,” he said, proving that he, too, had been thinking of their marriage, even though they’d been talking about other things. “I can tell you don’t believe we can make it, but we’ve been happy together for twelve years. I don’t see why that has to change, not if we’re both willing to fight for our marriage.”
She noticed how he emphasized that one word. Some of the repair work would be her responsibility—even though he was the one who’d wrecked everything. “And how do we do that?” she asked.
“Forgive and forget,” he replied earnestly. “Start over with a clean slate. Get counseling.”
She nodded. She agreed that saving their marriage would require exactly those things. But that wasn’t all. He’d have to navigate this tricky situation perfectly—treat her in a way that wouldn’t leave her writhing in jealousy whenever he fulfilled his obligations to Francine and their child. And she didn’t believe that was possible. Even if he started out as he was now—humble, patient, solicitous—which might make the situation bearable, before too long he’d get complacent, frustrated or tired and begin to expect her to be more understanding and flexible. To give him more time with Francine’s child. To watch the child when he had to go somewhere or do something. To provide more money than the court stipulated or help Francine get into a house or whatever. And what if she didn’t want to—or simply couldn’t bring herself to agree?
They’d argue and everything would go to hell.
“You might think that other guy, Finn, is a better option,” he said. “But you barely know him. You’ve only seen the best of him. You have no idea what he might really be like.”
She thought of the woman who’d identified herself as Finn’s girlfriend. Maybe she hadn’t seen the worst of Finn. He hadn’t had the chance to do anything like Mark had—but he certainly didn’t seem too sad about the fact that she was going back to Florida at the end of the summer.
And yet...what else did she want? For him to suffer?
No. Definitely not.
Mark took her hand as they entered the restaurant. Rather than embarrass him by pulling away, she allowed it.
She didn’t pay much attention while he spoke softly to the maître d’. She was too busy formulating what she’d say to him later. But when it seemed to be taking a long time to get a table, she tuned in to see why, and heard him mention privacy.
He was setting up something special, which made her slightly uncomfortable. What could he have planned that required privacy?
She hoped he wasn’t going to do anything too sentimental, like present her with a new ring or a bouquet of roses and ask her to marry him again. She didn’t want any grand gestures. She just wanted him to make it as easy as possible for her to pick up the pieces of her life and move on.
The maître d’ led them to the far back corner.
“This table seats four,” Lorelei said when the man was gone. “Are you sure we should sit here? Maybe a bigger party will come in.”
“It’s fine,” Mark said dismissively.
It wasn’t fine to her; it was impolite. There was no need to make the restaurant give up the seating if they didn’t need to. She was about to insist they make a change.
But then she saw why he’d requested this particular table—and her stomach dropped.
* * *
reagan
While Lucy ate some apple slices and a peanut butter sandwich, Reagan tried to call Serenity but got her voice mail. When Serenity had arrived in San Diego yesterday, she’d sent a text to say that her uncle Vance was going to be there, so Reagan was dying to see how that was going. If she were Serenity, she’d pull him aside and ask about the past. He had to know something about what had happened—he was familiar with Rosalind, after all—and Reagan was becoming more and more convinced that they couldn’t solve the mystery without help. But she had to be patient. Serenity was in a difficult situation, had to be careful about her parents’ marriage.
When she didn’t pick up, Reagan sent her a message. Anything?
Serenity didn’t respond to that, either, so Reagan assumed she didn’t have her phone with her. Rally was with his son; they’d gone to a Yankees game together. Lorelei was out to dinner with Mark. Finn had his “girlfriend” over. Nolan was in Truckee at work, and she didn’t have a relationship with Davis that was separate from the one she had with Finn.
Which left her on her own with Lucy for a couple of hours until Lucy went to bed.
Since Lucy didn’t need her at the moment, she considered calling her mother. They’d finally spoken a few times, just recently. But neither she nor her mother had mentioned her father again. Each conversation had been brief and perfunctory.
Her mother had stopped asking about her job—thank God—but the subtext of “What the hell are you doing with your life?” was always there, just below the surface. Reagan hated that Rosalind wouldn’t let down her guard and simply be approachable and transparent, but she’d been dealing with that same frustration her whole life and wasn’t interested in running into the brick wall that stood between them yet again.
As soon as she finished her dinner, Lucy began to play with a stuffed bear she’d brought from home, and Reagan took her into the living room, where the TV was, and got on her computer. She did a bit more work on Serenity’s social media, in between helping Lucy put a little dress and some shoes on her bear. Then a cartoon on TV caught Lucy’s interest, and Reagan opened Google. Even though she’d searched her father’s name—well, Stuart Sands, who might or might not have been her father—several times in the past and nothing of interest had come up, she hadn’t done the same for Vance Currington. Because Serenity knew him, it hadn’t occurred to her that there might be more information about him online than Serenity already possessed. But since she was bored and growing impatient with the mystery, she typed “Vance Currington” into the search engine and was surprised by the number of links that popped up.
Most were the obituaries of men with the same name or a similar one, possibly relatives. Other listings were paid for by companies trying to sell background checks.
Reagan thought it might be wise to pay for a background check or even hire a private investigator. If they could find some proof that Vance had once lived in Cincinnati or discover a connection to Florida, where Lorelei was found, it might be worth it. Lorelei couldn’t spend the money, and Serenity would be worried that having someone poking around in the past might threaten her mother. But Reagan could probably handle the entire expense herself and tell the PI to be discreet.
She was considering that possibility while she clicked the more obscure links that were several pages into her search. She didn’t expect to find anything of note, but when she visited a site that mentioned education and job history for someone named Edward Vance Currington, she saw a long list of previous employers.
This could be the right Vance Currington—Serenity had mentioned that he couldn’t keep a job.
Most of the companies she didn’t recognize.
None of them were in Cincinnati, anyway.
Assuming she’d hit another dead end, she moved the cursor back to the search box and typed in, “How to find a good private investigator.” But just before she hit the enter key, something jumped out at her.
It was the name of an adoption agency.
32
serenity
What’s your uncle’s full name? It’s not *Edward* Vance Currington, is it?
SERENITY DIDN’T RECEIVE Reagan’s message until after she’d finished the dishes and said good-night. Her parents were still talking to Vance in the living room, but Beau had left, and as much fun as Vance was, Serenity wasn’t interested in hearing about how he might be moving to Southern California to sell energy-efficient HVAC systems to the owners of large commercial buildings. She was much more intent on learning what he’d been doing thirty-five years ago.
Yes. He was named after my grandfather, why? she replied.
Reagan answered right away. Has anyone in the family ever mentioned an adoption agency called My Sweet Angel?
Serenity’s blood ran cold. Instead of texting back, she called Reagan. “What’s going on? What makes you ask about an adoption agency?”
“You recognize the name?”
“No. I’ve never heard of it, but the fact that it’s an adoption agency makes me uneasy.”
“From what I can tell, your uncle used to work there—or he was associated with it in some way.”