Few woke up in the morning deciding today would be the day to hide the truth. Beth Ann would wake up this morning, see her darkening bruises, dab makeup on them, and cover her arms with a beach jacket. She would do it, she’d say to herself, because she didn’t want to upset her children, shame her husband, or shatter the illusion of her happy life. Her secret wouldn’t hurt anyone but herself.

Edna would slip on her apron and begin her chores as if she could work her way clear of the past. And Carlotta would push away the insecure little girl who’d grown up on the outside, don her makeup, and take control of an audience surrounding her stage.

“Edna’s right. Secrets are a burden.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE RUTH

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RUTH

Saturday, June 24, 1950, 3:45 p.m.

Ruth was at the front registration desk when the dark Ford pickup truck pulled up under the main building’s carport. She recognized the driver, a fisherman who delivered goods to the Seaside Resort sometimes.

But she’d never seen the two young people climbing out of the vehicle. They were young, maybe early twenties, and she supposed they must be honeymooners. The Seaside Resort got its share of the newly married, fresh from church nuptials. If they’d arrived hoping for a room, they’d be disappointed. Even though it was Saturday, none of the families had checked out. Did they not see the lit-up NO next to the VACANCY sign?

The man was tall and lean and wore a crisp white shirt with a wide pointed collar that dipped into a V and polished two-tone loafers peeking out from dark striped pants. His hair, the color of wet sand, was slicked back with a thick layer of grease.

The woman’s coffee-colored hair was cut short and curled around her pearl-clustered earrings. Her sunglasses were trimmed in red and angled upward like a cat’s eyes. A bright-yellow blouse skimmed over small breasts and tapered into slim white pants.

Waving to the driver as the truck drove off, they picked up their suitcases and entered the front doors, each taking time to study the lobby.

“Can I help you?” Ruth asked.

“You can, young lady,” the man said. “We’re looking for Carlotta DiSalvo. She’s the headliner here.”

“She sings here, but I don’t know if the Seaside Resort is big enough to have a headliner.”

“She’s the star wherever she goes,” the man said.

Ruth didn’t argue. “Who are you?”

“I’m Max Collier, and this is April Rivers. We perform with Carlotta on the Maisy Adams.”

“Is the boat fixed, Mr. Collier?” Ruth hoped it wasn’t.

“Call me Max. And no, our vessel is not repaired yet. Can you take us to Carlotta?”