Kate heard the hurt in her friend’s voice, but she was too tired, and this was too important, to let herself yield. “Fine. And next time my daughter comes to you with a plan that includes skipping a week of school or modeling in a faraway place, I would appreciate it if you’d let me discuss it with her.”

“But you don’t. You two just scream at each other. Even Johnny says—”

“You’ve talked to Johnny about this?”

“He’s worried about you and Marah. He says it’s like World War II around here some nights.”

That was about the third sucker punch tonight, and it hurt so much she said, “You better leave, Tully. This is a family matter.”

“But . . . I thought I was family.”

“Goodnight,” Kate said quietly, then walked out of the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

Tully should have gone straight home and tried to forget the whole thing, but by the time the ferry pulled back into downtown Seattle, she was a wreck. Instead of turning left on Alaskan Way, she turned right and hit the gas.

In record time she was in Snohomish, driving past the altered landmarks of her youth. The town was a tourist stop now, full of trendy cafés and upscale antique shops.

None of it mattered much to her; what changed, what stayed the same . . . she didn’t care. Even under the best of circumstances, she was only barely connected to the yesterdays of her life, and tonight was far from the best of circumstances. Still, when she turned onto Firefly Lane, it was like rocketing into the past.

She turned onto the paved driveway and drove up to the small white farmhouse with the glossy black trim. Over the years Mrs. Mularkey had turned the ragged yard into an English-style garden full of flowers. In this late autumn, the whole garden seemed to glow golden. The yard and hanging baskets were a riot of red geraniums, visible in the orangey porch light.

Tully parked the car and went to the front door, ringing the bell.

Mr. M. answered, and for a second there, standing on the porch, looking up at him, Tully felt her whole life flash before her eyes. He looked older, of course, with a vanishing hairline and an expanding waistline, but dressed as he was in a white T-shirt and worn jeans, he looked so much like he used to that she felt young again, too. “Hey, Mr. M.”

“You’re here late. Everything okay?”

“I just needed to talk to Mrs. M. I won’t stay long.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” He stepped back to let her in, then went to the base of the stairs and yelled up, “Margie, come on down. Trouble’s here.” He flashed Tully a smile that coaxed out one of her own.