“Aunt Libbie, did you hear I’m trying out for varsity soccer?” Sam asked. Although he was only fifteen, he’d proven to be as athletic as he was handsome. It hadn’t escaped Libbie’s notice how much her mother doted on Sam. It was like a repeat of Libbie and Emily. Josh was her oldest grandson, and Courtney was her only granddaughter, yet she still found reasons to prefer Emily’s children to Libbie’s own.
“Your mom told me,” Libbie said. “That’s great.”
“I know a couple of guys on the team,” Josh said to Sam. “They’re really nice.”
That was the most interaction Libbie had with anyone at the party. She spent most of it chained to the grill, flipping burgers, and making sure the hot dogs had the black marks the kids liked. It was amazing how many burgers such a small group could inhale. Finally, the orders stopped, and she was able to make up her own plate of food. She sat at the outdoor table to enjoy the meal. Her father sat next to her, talking to Emily’s husband across the table about a tennis tournament. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and Libbie watched two fireflies as their lights brightened and faded in sync.
When she’d finished eating, she carried her empty paper plate into the house to dispose of it. She knew how much her mother hated cleaning up at the end of a party, so Libbie made sure to tidy up as much as she could before they left.
As the lid of the trashcan closed, Libbie felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She expected it to be Chris. To her surprise, it was an unknown number. She let it go to voicemail, and then tapped the screen to listen.
“Hi, my name is Ethan Townsend. I’m an attorney and I’m trying to reach Elizabeth Stark on behalf of the estate of Inga Paulsen. If you could return my call at your earliest convenience, I would appreciate it. Thank you so much.”
Libbie studied the number on the screen, debating whether to return the call now. It was Saturday night on a holiday weekend. He probably wouldn’t answer. Then again, he’d just called her. What if there was a problem, something connected to Inga or the funeral? She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door before clicking the number on the screen.
“Ethan Townsend.”
“Um, hello. This is Elizabeth Stark returning your call.”
Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Libbie, are you in there? We’re about to bring out the cake.”
She held her hand over the phone. “I’ll be right there, Mom.”
“I’m sorry to disturb your holiday weekend, Ms. Stark. I just wanted to be sure that I got in touch with you before the funeral. Mrs. Paulsen’s instructions were very specific.”
“She asked you to call me?”
“I’d like to meet with you before the funeral, if you’re available.”
The ball in her stomach tightened. “Just me?”
“You and three others.”
She relaxed slightly. “Kate, Julie, and Rebecca?”
“That’s right. You’re all friends, I understand?”
“Yes. Very good friends.” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Why couldn’t she feel about her own family the way she felt about her friends?
“Would you mind coming by at nine-thirty on Tuesday? That should give you enough time to prepare for the service.” He gave her the address.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”
Another knock on the bathroom door. “Libbie, the candles are lit. Let’s go. Your poor sister is waiting for everyone to sing.”
Libbie tucked her phone in her pocket and left the bathroom. Everyone was gathered around the island in the kitchen, where a vanilla cake was adorned with pastel-colored candles.
“One, two, three,” her mother prompted. Her phone was in her hand, capturing the moment. Libbie knew exactly what she’d see later on her mother’s Facebook page. Happy birthday to the best daughter a mother could ask for. It was the same every year and every year, Libbie felt a pang of hurt. She’d mentioned it to Chris once, who’d told her she was being ‘dramatic,’ and that all mothers told their kids they were the best. Except Libbie’s mother had never written that on Libbie’s birthday. Not once.
They sang Happy Birthday, and Libbie mouthed the words, unable to make a sound. The call from the lawyer had rattled her, even though he hadn’t said anything bad. She couldn’t wait to text the other women and find out what they knew.
Libbie barely touched her cake and hoped no one noticed. It was the type of thing her mother liked to comment on. I guess it wasn’t up to your standards was a Delia favorite. A far worse crime would be to reject the piece of cake altogether. That led to questions about diets and exercise that Libbie couldn’t handle right now.
The moment the clock struck eight, Libbie motioned to her kids that it was time to go. She hugged Emily and wished her a happy birthday one last time before the three of them exited the house.
“Are you dropping us back at Dad’s?” Josh asked on the way to the car.
“It’s his weekend.”
“Harry has been waking up in the night. It’s kind of annoying.”
Libbie smiled. “At least your time there is limited. Imagine how your dad and stepmom feel.”
Courtney fell in step beside her mother. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Libbie cut a glance at her. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Grandma said you seemed even more miserable than usual. I told her it was probably Inga, but she seemed to think it was more than that.”
Libbie scoffed. “More than the death of my good friend?” She released a long breath. “If your grandmother was that concerned, she could have asked me herself instead of making the remark to her thirteen-year-old granddaughter.”
Libbie immediately regretted saying that to her daughter. She tried her best to shield the kids from her family issues.
Courtney wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Emily seemed to like her present.”
“Grandma said she saw it on sale in town,” Josh added.
Libbie flinched. She had, in fact, bought it on sale, but she wasn’t sure why it mattered to her mother what she paid for it. Her sister loved it and that was the important part.
“I guess she thinks true love means paying full price,” Courtney said.
Libbie laughed at the absurdity of it, and, yet, there was a ring of truth to her daughter’s statement. She opened the driver’s side door with a weary hand. “Come on, kids. Let’s stick a fork in this day and call it done.”
Chapter Four
To Libbie’s relief, Maria cancelled her appointment with the plastic surgeon after a fight with her boyfriend. That meant Libbie had enough time to shower and dress for the funeral, without being late for the meeting with the lawyer. If there was any kind of work that needed to be done on behalf of Inga’s estate, she didn’t want the other women to have to handle it alone. She made a mental list of possibilities and felt her stomach clench as she tried to figure out which ones she could tackle. She didn’t want to be the weak link in the chain.
Ethan Townsend’s office was in a professional complex on Timber Trail. Libbie had been here once before when she’d needed to see a dermatologist about discolored freckles. They were benign, which hadn’t surprised Libbie because she was vigilant about sunscreen. When she’d said as much to the dermatologist, Dr. Winston explained that most of Libbie’s sun damage had happened in childhood, and there was precious little she could do about it now. The sunscreen would help prevent new damage, of course, but much of the damage happened years ago and might not reveal itself until later in life.