“Well, they were delicious.” Why didn’t Joanna cook? Presumably because Cliff had done all the cooking for her.

“Did you find everything you needed? Was your room comfortable?”

“It was perfect. The shower was great. A bit like getting caught in a heavy rainstorm. At home I have to stand there while it tries to choke out a few drops.”

It felt surreal, standing here by an idyllic pool, surrounded by the scents of summer with the vivid blue of the Pacific Ocean just steps away, and only Joanna Whitman for company.

What was she supposed to do? Should she stand up? Sit down?

In the end she sat on the lounger next to Joanna’s. She’d perched on the edge, which gave her the option of standing suddenly if she needed to.

She had no idea how this conversation was going to go.

Once she told Joanna the truth, she’d probably be on the next bus back to the city. Or maybe she’d be walking.

She eyed the pool. It would have been great to swim, but maybe the people who used this place didn’t actually get wet. Maybe the pool was an accessory, something to admire while they basked in the Californian sunshine, sipped margaritas and kept their hair dry.

Sunlight glinted on the water and the breeze sent a ripple of movement across the surface.

It looked tranquil and inviting. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t on vacation.

Joanna lowered her book. “You’re welcome to swim if you’d like to.”

Was she that obvious? “I’m fine.”

“I’m sure I can find you a swimsuit. There’s a closet on the first floor full of new clothes and equipment. If something fits, use it.”

Ashley stared longingly at the water, and then shook her head. “Maybe later. Thanks.”

Did Joanna not think this was weird? She was treating Ashley like a guest, when she should be treating her like the enemy.

Joanna was watching her through those large sunglasses that hid most of her face. “You said you’d had a bad year. You must miss your mother. Were you close?”

“Yes.” Was that true? A year ago Ashley would have said that yes, they were close, but that was before. Could you consider yourself close to someone who kept things from you? What other bombshells would have emerged if her mother was still alive? Ashley had a whole lot of questions and no way of getting the answers. “My dad died when I was twelve so it’s been the two of us since then.” There was no reason not to tell Joanna that.

“Tell me about your dad. What did he do?”

It always struck Ashley as a strange question, as if what you did for a living defined who you were as a person. If you were what you did, then right now she was no one.