Liza felt a twinge of guilt. She could hardly say that talking to Finn had piqued her desire to look back at the way her mother had been back then. “I was young. I missed my mother, that’s all.”

There was a silence and she wondered what her mother was thinking.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes! Sorry. I was distracted. The DVDs are in my study. On the shelf, I think, beneath the travel guides. The key to the study is in the drawer by my bed. But Liza—”

“What?”

“Don’t tidy. Don’t throw anything away.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She heard clattering in the background. “What’s happening?”

“Josh, the hero, has organized breakfast for us. It’s just arrived. Goodness, what a feast!”

“Who is Josh?”

“He’s someone we picked up yesterday. A delightful man, and adept at procuring breakfast it would seem.”

Liza opened her mouth and closed it again. “You—picked up a stranger?”

“Well, he’s no longer a stranger. In fact without him I’d—” Her mother stopped talking.

“You’d what?”

“Nothing. I must go. You know I can’t bear cold oatmeal. And Liza, about Finn—”

“Yes?”

“Some of the rumors about him are true. He is charming, and absurdly handsome of course, but a little on the dangerous side, especially when it comes to women. Be careful.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling me to be careful. You picked up a hitchhiker!”

“I know. It’s only because I don’t want you to do something impulsive that you regret.”

Why would her mother say that? Liza had been with Sean since she was a teenager. She’d never been at all interested in another man. Had her mother somehow sensed how unsettled she was?

With a final goodbye, Liza put the phone down. Regrets? Right now she had a feeling that she was more likely to regret things she hadn’t done than things she had. And she had no reason to feel guilty or uncomfortable. She’d invited Finn to dinner, that was all. It was the neighborly thing to do in the circumstances.

There had been no reason at all to mention it to her mother.

14

MARTHA

SPRINGFIELD~KANSAS~TULSA

Martha put a loaded breakfast tray on the table and pulled it close to the bed while Josh poured coffee. She was grateful for his calm, steady presence. “Why didn’t you tell Liza the truth?”

“Because then she would have worried and this is the first time in as long as I can remember that my daughter hasn’t seemed anxious. She’s staying in the cottage on her own. Taking her paints to the beach. I have no intention of saying anything that will draw a gray cloud over her blue-sky day.”