“Annabelle, wait!” a voice called.

But it was only the redhead again, so she kept on going, out the door with those cheerful bells that jangled when it opened.

“You don’t have to go!” the redhead said, rushing out to follow.

Dad followed, too . . . sort of. But he stood a few steps behind the redhead, all wide-eyed and hesitant, holding the door open but not actually coming outside.

He looked a whole lot like Jeremy had last summer when he and Annabelle and Mia had stood in line for the biggest roller coaster at an amusement park, and then he’d decided he didn’t actually want to go on when they finally got to the front.

But Jeremy was a kid, and Dad was supposed to be an adult. Dad was supposed to welcome her and know what to say and what to do, not stand there all freaked out.

“I really do have to meet my friends,” Annabelle insisted.

Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll . . . see you soon, I hope,” he said.

Right. It was obvious he didn’t really hope that.

Annabelle took off toward the T stop, and when she turned around to check one last time, the door to the coffee shop was closed and the redhead had gone back inside. The sidewalk was completely empty, with the bright afternoon sun perched high in the sky, as if nothing had happened at all.

Chapter 30

The T came right away, so at least Annabelle didn’t have to wait there in her dad’s neighborhood. If she hurried, she could make the next bus to the Cape. There wasn’t any real reason to rush back when all that waited for her on Gray Island was her worried, probably furious mom and a whole bunch of people who were glad they weren’t as pathetic as she was, but still. She wanted to be back at her house or at the little beach down the road, where she could walk up and down the shore, picking up shells and rocks and listening to the familiar swish of the ocean—in and out, high tide and low tide. A little rougher some days and calmer other days, but always vast and moving and there.

What had she been thinking, showing up to see her dad out of nowhere as if she could fit herself into his new life like the last piece in a puzzle?

When the train pulled into the station, Annabelle pushed through the crowds, apologizing as she cut off a hobbling older lady. Once she got to the bus terminal, she hurried to line up in the right place.

Then she dug into her purse to get her wallet, where she’d left her bus and ferry tickets to keep them safe. Her hand hit her phone, the rock, her house keys, a pack of gum, and a ChapStick.

No wallet.

Her CharlieCard had been in the pocket of her shorts, but her wallet was gone.

Over the loudspeaker, a voice with a strong Boston accent announced that the bus to Hyannis was boarding. Annabelle’s throat went dry.