She checked the drawer and discovered that what she’d thought were papers were letters. The postmark was California, and they’d been mailed at regular intervals dating back to the early sixties. Her mother would have been in her early twenties.

Why hadn’t she opened them? Was there a reason the letters and the ring were together, or was that coincidence?

Her phone rang and she almost dropped the letters.

She slid the ring onto her finger for the time being, returned the letters to the drawer and locked the study door. Only when she’d done that did she answer her phone.

It was Sean.

“I’ve been calling you all day. Where were you?”

“I’ve been out. I forgot my phone.”

“You never forget your phone.”

These days she was doing a lot of things she didn’t normally do.

“I was busy.” She sat down on the edge of her mother’s bed. The ring felt heavy on her finger. Did that mean it was real? If it was real, then it must be valuable. Surely not even her mother would leave a valuable ring loose in a drawer.

“Busy doing what?” Sean sounded tired. “Caitlin is going crazy because she washed her white shirt, which is apparently precious, and I’d left a red cleaning cloth in the machine.”

Liza watched a woodpecker land on the apple tree. “I did tell her to check the machine is empty before she put anything in it.”

“Well, apparently it’s my fault, because I should have noticed. Girls are exhausting. Alice’s hair straighteners broke, and I’m told this is a tragedy. I tried to point out that this does not come under the heading of a crisis, but before I had the door slammed in my face for that remark I was told that I couldn’t possibly understand. The bathroom smells so badly of hairspray and perfume I’m having breathing issues. When are you coming back? How much attention does Popeye need?”

“I’m not staying for Popeye, I’m staying for me. I need a break.” It was the closest she’d come to admitting that something was wrong.

“A break? Knowing you, you’ve probably worked nonstop since you arrived.”

Did he know her? Or had he assumed she was the same Liza she always had been? No one stayed the same throughout life, did they? Things happened. Life happened. And each event and experience sculpted you into a slightly different shape. Maybe when you’d been with someone for a long time you saw the old, not the new. It was important to keep communicating. Keep listening.

But she hadn’t done that with her mother.