The phone at the auto shop rang six times before Joy looked at her watch. It was the end of the business day, of course they’d be closed. Finally her mother answered and Joy presented her question.

“You were awful to me!” said her mother cheerfully. “Of course, I had the boys, so that helped. As long as I fed them they were perfectly nice to me.”

Joy felt pained. “Well, what’d I do, exactly?”

“Where do you want me to start? There was the time you snuck out in the middle of the night and set off the car alarm when you were trying to turn the car on. The time you took the good whiskey my sister had brought me from Ireland and brought it to a party. Oh! And the time you said four days in a row you were going swimming at Lisa Costa’s house and your bathing suit came home dry every night. I never did find out where you’d been.”

“Well, I’m not telling you now,” said Joy. (She couldn’t remember.) “Did I at least apologize, for any of that? Please tell me I apologized.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Her mother laughed. “You were a teenage girl. The world revolved around you and only you. It was natural. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t infuriating. Just a moment, darling.” She put down the phone and called, “The second drawer down.” Then, to Joy, “Sorry, I’m at the shop. Well, you know that. You called me here.”

“So how did you ever forgive me? How’d you even stand me?”

“I said the second drawer down!” screamed her mother. “Honestly, that man couldn’t find an ear of corn in a cornfield. Your brother is just like him.”

“Which brother?”

“All of them, come to think of it. And I’m only here today because Mariana had to take Hunter to his baseball game. How did I forgive you? How did I stand you? It was my job to stand you. And I forgave you because that’s what parents do.”

Joy was hovering somewhere between relief and despair. “What do I do, though, Mom? I feel like I have to be so careful, but I’m never sure what I’m being careful of.”

“You wait her out,” said Joy’s mother. “You wait her out, and she’ll come back to you soon enough. You’ll see.”

Chapter 50

ANTHONY

CASSIE WAS WEARING pale pink gloss and a hint of shadow on her eyes when Anthony and Max met her at the ferry on the sixth. She had somehow scored a room at The 1661 Inn for the night (unheard of, in August; who knew what strings she’d pulled), and she wanted Max to stay with her. Her tank top was taupe, silk, pristinely pressed. She was carrying the Sonia Rykiel weekender bag she’d given herself two birthdays ago. Anthony reached out to take the bag from her. She bent to hug and kiss Max. “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked. “That must have been very scary for you.”