“It’s possible,” Raoul said, but Kayla heard doubt in his voice. He was lucky; she was not.
Kayla showered quickly and put on a pink sundress with thin straps. It looked summery and nonthreatening, and it flowed nicely over her stomach and thighs. She took three Advils, spritzed on a little Coco, which she hoped would mask the smell of hangover, and went downstairs.
If Luke and Cassidy B. were worried about her, she couldn’t tell. They were engrossed in a wildlife program about the Komodo dragon.
“Here it is almost noon on a beautiful day and you’re inside,” Kayla said. “Are you being punished?”
Cassidy B. jumped up from her position on the floor-probably half out of excitement to see her and half out of fear that Kayla would scold her. Sitting too close to the TV was a no-no. Kayla couldn’t even remember why anymore.
“Mommy, you’re home!” she said. She hugged Kayla in an exaggerated little-girl way. “Daddy said Auntie A. got lost.”
Kayla pressed her close and glanced over her head at Luke, who was wearing his green Nantucket Day Camp shirt even though today was Saturday, even though camp was now over.
“Good morning, Luke,” she said.
“Good morning,” he said seriously. “Did Auntie A. drown?”
“No. Who said that?”
He shrugged. “Nobody.”
Raoul must have let more slip than he intended, although it was impossible to keep the truth from an eight-year-old. Eight-year-olds were perceptive and suspicious by nature.
“I have some exciting news,” Kayla said. “We may have a sleepover guest tonight.”
“Who?” Cassidy B. said. “Is Sabrina coming?”
Sabrina, Raoul’s mother, who never visited without her head scarves and séance candles, was another one of the kids’ favorites.
“Not Sabrina,” Kayla said. “It’s someone you’ve never met before. It’s a woman named Lindsey…” Lindsey what? Not Riley. “She’s Auntie A.’s daughter.”
“Auntie A. doesn’t have any children,” Luke pronounced. He glared at her as if to say: Can you please get the facts straight?
“Yes, she does. Antoinette hasn’t seen her in a long time, and that’s why you’ve never met her. But I’m going to pick her up right now, and she may stay the night. We’re going to let her sleep in Luke’s room and Luke can sleep with Daddy and me.”
Before Luke could protest, Cassidy B. said, “Lucky.” That did the trick; Luke smiled smugly.
Kayla snapped off the TV and checked the clock. She had to go. “You two play outside. See if you can get Daddy to throw the Frisbee. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Before she left, Kayla put the pregnancy test in a plastic sandwich bag and dropped the bag into her purse. Then she checked three photo albums for a picture of Antoinette. She thought there was one picture from long ago of Antoinette at their house for dinner, holding one of the children in her arms. Kayla flipped back and forth through the laminated pages, past baby shots and birthday parties, Jennifer riding a horse, Theo in his baseball uniform, but she couldn’t find a single photo of Antoinette. The picture Kayla remembered was missing.
Kayla reached the airport with five minutes to spare, and so she called the police station to see if they had any news. Paul Henry wasn’t in; Detective Simpson wasn’t in. The woman who answered the phone said there had been no news about the missing woman; they hadn’t found her at the Steamship or the airport. If Kayla wanted a report on the recovery mission, she should call the fire department.
Kayla called the fire department, keeping her eyes on the Cape Air gate. Jack Montalbano came to the phone.
“We haven’t found her yet, Kayla,” he said. “But, hey, the good news is that she might not even be in the water. I heard you found some mischief up at her house.”
“Mischief is toilet paper in the trees,” Kayla said. “This was a lot more than just mischief.” She wondered if Jack had been up all night; with his wife gone, he probably avoided his empty house as much as he could. “Are you still… out looking for Bob?”
He cleared his throat. “The diver is out there now, yes.”
Kayla felt nauseated. She hadn’t eaten anything since the night before-the lobsters, the cheese. “Keep me posted,” she said, and she hung up.
The Cape Air gate still looked quiet, so Kayla made a dash to Hutch’s to get a sandwich from the take-out. And a cold Diet Coke. The girl behind the counter was about seventeen, from Eastern Europe somewhere, and she had hair the color of Bing cherries. She made Kayla think of Theo. Kayla was afraid to find Theo to say hello; she was afraid he would bully her in public, or worse yet, look at her with absolute blankness as though he’d never seen her before. Kayla wolfed down half a dry turkey sandwich and took two long swills from the Diet Coke and immediately felt better. Food. Out the window, she watched the Cape Air plane land and she thought, Okay, I can do this. The plane taxied to its spot. Kayla still had time. She threw the rest of the sandwich away and strolled over to the Island Air counter. Just in case Theo was hanging around.
“Kayla!” Theo’s boss, Marty Robbins, saw her right away and came up to the desk. “Where’s your son?”
Kayla smiled as benignly as she could, but her voice was weary. “I’m not sure what you mean, Marty.”
“Theo never showed,” Marty said. “True, Monday is his last day, but I need him now. It’s a holiday weekend.”
“He didn’t call?” she asked, knowing the futility of the question. She closed her eyes and tried to remember: The Jeep had definitely not been in the driveway, but what about the door to Theo’s room? Open? Closed? It hardly mattered. If the Jeep was gone, Theo was gone. Kayla didn’t have time for another missing person, and although she was ashamed to admit it, part of her was relieved that Theo wasn’t at the airport. One less distraction, one less stressful encounter. The encounter she had coming would be stressful enough.
“I’ll try to round him up, Marty,” she said, backing away from the counter. “Right now I have to meet someone.”
There was no doubt as to which of the women coming off the Cape Air flight was Antoinette’s daughter. Even Antoinette would have been startled at the resemblance. Lindsey was tall and thin like her mother, with the same unruly black hair and the same dark eyes. Her skin a shade lighter, her nose pointier, her gestures more hurried than Antoinette’s, but otherwise it was as though Kayla had stepped back in time to the kitchen on Hooper Farm Road as Antoinette poured Chablis into her Waterford goblet. Kayla wanted to cry at the incredible unfairness of it-this young woman so much like her mother, whom she had never seen, and because of some cruel trick of fate, would not see today. Oh, Antoinette, how could you miss this moment? Your own child. Kayla’s heart was breaking as she approached the girl.
“Lindsey?” she said.
The girl’s eyes widened just a bit, though Kayla could see she had steeled herself for anything. Well, anthing except Kayla-blond and big-boned. Lindsey was carrying a Louis Vuitton backpack, and her knuckles whitened as she clenched the strap.
“Antoinette?”
“No,” Kayla said. The poor girl. Kayla sensed her relief immediately. “I’m a friend of your mom’s.” Mom-that sounded way too familiar. “I’m a good, dear friend of Antoinette’s. My name is Kayla Montero.”
Lindsey smiled-gorgeous teeth, the perfect shade of plum lipstick-and offered Kayla her hand. “Lindsey Allerton. Nice to meet you.” Incredible poise. Here she was-what, twenty years old?-and she was as smooth as a newscaster. She wore loose-fitting white cotton pants, a sleeveless hot pink T-shirt that showed one inch of midriff, and sandals that laced up her calves. Jennifer would love her clothes. Theo probably, too.