Her headache eased as she realized she wouldn’t have to talk anymore. “Okay, yes.”

Dr. Kirkland closed her notebook. “You’ve made great progress, Linda. There’s more work to do but I think we’re digging deep.”

“My mother is probably going to set up a competency hearing again.”

The smile Dr. Kirkland gave her was tinged with an odd kind of pleasure. “Well, your mother can just bring it on.”

Linda was halfway through a cheeseburger and chocolate shake before the true import of Dr. Kirkland’s final words sank in. Dr. K didn’t think she was crazy.

She stood in front of a pay phone for the longest time, looking at the bright piece of blue silk and the paper with Marissa’s phone number. But what would she say? Sorry, I won’t be visiting soon. Sorry, I’m not where I told you I’d be. Sorry, I’m not who you think I am.

The call could wait. Maybe everything would fix itself quickly and her mother would finally realize, like Dr. K, that she wasn’t crazy.

Chapter 8

“Well, don’t you look relaxed!”

“Thank you, Mom,” Marissa said automatically. She gave her mother the obligatory kiss then sat down at the empty chair at their table for two. Sunday brunch at the club was a treat but even after a week of being home, Marissa didn’t quite feel adjusted to the time. It had been very, very hard to get up.

“Joanne, is this your daughter who was shipwrecked?” An elegantly coiffed woman paused at their table to examine Marissa with interest.

“Yes, this is my daughter Marissa. She’s just back from Tahiti. Marissa, this is my dear friend—I’ve spoken of her so often . . .”

Marissa made appropriate responses and thought longingly of hot coffee. The hovering waiter wouldn’t intrude on the conversation. She didn’t mean to be rude but couldn’t help but pick up the menu to see what was offered. Like every day since she’d started working out, she was starving.

When she’d made up her mind, she studied her mother, taking in the perfectly turned out white hair, the age-defying makeup and the crisply starched linen blouse. If her mother ever gave her half a chance, she’d tell anyone that she thought her mom was terribly good looking and yes, in her opinion, this apple had fallen a long way from her mother’s tree. She could try forever and not achieve that kind of classy elegance.

Then again, she wasn’t sure how her mother’s carefully constructed world would have fared in a shipwreck. Oh, she’d have climbed that cliff easily, no doubt about that. But without a stylist handy?

Marissa allowed she was likely being unfair to her mother, who was strong-willed and successful. She was just also quite annoying at times.

Her mother’s friend took leave of them after a minute of trading gossip that sounded competitive to Marissa’s ear. Marissa was relieved her mother didn’t seem annoyed that Marissa had stayed out of the conversation for the most part.