Her words shamed Louisa. Had she really gotten it all wrong? Had Marissa felt so guilty for betraying Daniel that she let the guilt turn to anger and drove them all apart?

“After Daniel died, she came to see your father. Came right up to the house and asked to speak to Warren.” Her mother’s face fell. “They wouldn’t let me in on their discussion. They said it had to do with business, but if it was really business, why couldn’t they discuss it in front of me? That’s when I started to get suspicious.”

“Did you ask Dad?”

She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t bear to hear the answer. It was easier to pretend that everything was fine, and the only way to do that was to remove myself from Marissa’s life completely.”

Louisa wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never seen even a sliver of weakness in her mother. And now here she was, baring her soul, and Louisa felt ill-equipped to handle it.

“I always thought you blamed me,” Louisa admitted quietly.

Her mother’s shoulders sagged slightly as if she’d only just now decided to relax. “I was full of blame, but the person I blamed the most was myself. I wasn’t a good wife. I was thoughtless and selfish and it made sense to me that your father would turn to someone else for comfort and love. I was lousy at both.”

“But, Mom, you don’t even know if something happened between them.”

Her mother’s expression turned weary. “Your father was more than happy to go along with my plan not to see Marissa and the kids. He seemed downright relieved when I suggested it. I think maybe Daniel’s death finally knocked some sense into him. He was a different man after that.”

Louisa’s mind wandered back. It was true—her father had been changed by the death of his best friend. But wouldn’t anyone be?

“Maybe there was another explanation?”

She shook her head sadly. “I don’t think I have the courage to find out.”

For the first time in her life Louisa actually felt sorry for her mother. To live with this kind of question hanging over her head for so many years must’ve been overwhelming. The not knowing. The assuming. The perceived betrayal. And then to be accused of being the one to do the exact thing she suspected her husband of doing—by her own daughter.

A wave of regret washed over her. It was followed by a wave of dread. “Mom, Marissa is coming to the party tomorrow. She’s on the island now.”

Her mother’s face tightened. Her lips drew into a thin line. “You invited Marissa?”

“I didn’t know,” Louisa said. “I thought it would be good for everyone to be back together—for Maggie’s sake.” And for her own sake, if she was honest.