She sat down at the kitchen table. “This is—honestly, it’s awkward.” She nibbled at the corner of her fingernail. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Just plunge right in.” Clare poured her a mug of tea. “And there is no awkward between us, Izzy. I’ve known you since you were born.”

“I know. And you knew my mom. You were her closest friend.”

Was that what this was about? Becca?

“I was.”

“And that’s why it’s awkward. Because it isn’t about me. It’s about her.” Izzy started on a different nail. “I need to talk about my mother. About something that happened the night before she died.”

19

Flora

Flora walked Clare’s mother back to the Gatehouse. She felt weighed down. She knew she should be thinking about poor Izzy and she was, but right now she couldn’t stop wondering why Jack hadn’t confided in her. This was huge. Knowing, might have helped her understand Izzy a little better. Why had he kept it to himself? What else was he keeping to himself? She’d thought their relationship was honest and open but it seemed that the only person who had been honest and open was her.

What was she going to do? In her previous relationships she might have ignored it and kept up the pretense that everything was fine until the whole thing crumbled, but she couldn’t do that this time. How could she ever hope to be part of a family if she didn’t really know them?

She struggled to focus as Carolyn chatted away.

“Poor Izzy must have had a very tough time.” She paused at the entrance of the Gatehouse to tug out some weeds.

“Yes.” The best she could manage was a monosyllabic answer.

She forced herself to stop thinking about her relationship with Jack, and focus on Izzy’s relationship with him. It seemed that Izzy had somehow taken the fact that she wasn’t his biological daughter and spun that into a scenario where now that her mother was gone, he wouldn’t want her.

To Flora, who had no additional knowledge or information, it made a twisted sort of sense.

But how could Jack not have known Izzy might be feeling that way? She had more questions than answers and felt helpless and frustrated that she couldn’t help Izzy.

Carolyn patted her arm, calm and steady. “Don’t look so worried. She’ll stumble through it, as we all do. Life is like a garden, don’t you think? Sometimes glorious, and sometimes a disaster. It’s messy, but always real. And sometimes all we can do is forge ahead, and if that means flattening a few daisies on the way, then so be it.”