TOWNSFOLK CALLED THEM the Moonglow sisters. In part because they’d come to live at the Moonglow Inn, in Moonglow Cove, Texas, at the end of Moonglow Boulevard when Madison was nine; Shelley, six; and little Gia, just three years old.
But there was more to the nickname than locale.
They bore the noble heritage of the town’s founding family, Chapman by blood, if not by label. Descending from the town’s original forbearers lent them prestige, heft, and mythological clout.
And they were orphans, having lost both mother and father, banding together in a tight little unit, watching after and taking up for one another. Despite the six-year age difference between oldest and youngest, they went everywhere together.
Climbing on that odd bicycle built for three Grammy Chapman bought for them, they pedaled up and down the seawall for hours. Blond hair blew in the Gulf breezes as their legs pumped in unison. They’d stop for frozen Italian ices at Mario’s, waving and smiling to tourists, and feed the seagulls who snatched bread tidbits from their hands and followed them, cawing for more.
They linked arms and skipped along the beach. Shelley, the more adventuresome sister, was always nearest the ocean. Gia, the smallest, stayed in the middle, and Madison, the fierce protector, on the outer side. They fished off Paradise Pier, legs dangling, humming tunes of the day, and bringing their catch home to Grammy, who cooked it up for guests at the old Victorian manor. They flew kites, in three unique colors and designs, swooping and diving, soaring and dancing against the prevailing wind rolling off the Gulf of Mexico.
When they got older, they took beach jobs. Madison, responsible and bossy, was a lifeguard. Gia, easygoing and generous, taught kiteflying lessons. Shelley, fun-loving and harum-scarum, bounced from waitress to souvenir vendor to tour guide at the Seafaring Museum. All three helped at the Moonglow Inn, serving in the B&B as housekeepers, bellhops, and concierges.
They looked like moonglow—shimmering, golden-haired, luminous. There was magic to them. A softness. A shining. A warm, gentle light.
They brought smiles to faces, and the town embraced them. Loved them. Grieved when they broke apart on Madison’s wedding day.
It was almost like a death in the family. Something constant and enduring suddenly vanished forever.
People whispered, “If it could happen to the Moonglow sisters, what hope is there for the rest of us?”
Indeed, hope seemed quite lost.
* * *
AFTER THE RIFT occurred between the sisters, they scattered to the winds. Madison to New York City. Shelley to Costa Rica. Gia to college in San Diego, and then later for a time to Japan to study under an artisan kitemaker, before finally coming home and opening a kite shop kiosk on the Paradise Pier boardwalk.
Now Gia had been back in Moonglow Cove for five months; the time had passed in a blur as she consulted with lawyers, accountants, and real estate agents to get her tiny shop, Tako Kichi, up and running. Tako Kichi was Japanese for “kite crazy” and described Gia’s passion perfectly. She loved what she did for a living, but she didn’t have a natural head for business and it took all her concentration to get her shop up and flying.
She looked in on Grammy as often as she could, but in all honesty, she’d been too distracted to pay close attention to what was going on in her grandmother’s life. On the surface, things seemed much the same. Grammy was maybe a little slower, and the inn looked a bit shabby around the edges, but not enough to raise alarm bells.
Not enough to contact her sisters.
Gia and Madison were on speaking terms, although they didn’t talk often. They exchanged an occasional text, but they were both so busy and there was that underlying tension. Neither one of them had heard from, or seen, Shelley in five years. She could be dead for all they knew.
With Grammy, Gia had established a weekly routine. Since Mondays were blackout days for the inn, and all the guests left on Sunday, Gia would drop by for breakfast on Grammy’s one day off before she opened her kite shop at ten when the boardwalk came to life.
This Monday morning in the middle of May, she strolled up from the beach in her pink bikini and gauzy purple cover-up, climbing the back porch steps and swaying into the kitchen calling, “Hollow, hollow, hollow.”
The family greeting was a leftover from when the Moonglow sisters first came to live at the inn and were impressed with the way the wooden floors of the old Victorian vibrated an echo throughout the house; they had repeated hollow, hollow, hollow endlessly to one another, and then collapsed into hysterical giggles at the waves of rippling sound.
Silence.
The only sound came from the ticking grandfather clock at the end of the hall.
“Gram?”
Gia moved farther into the kitchen. On the table, wedged between the rooster and hen salt and pepper shakers, she spied a white envelope with her name on it in Grammy’s broad handwriting.
Just then the house phone rang, and Gia ambled to the phone docking station on the counter. Saw Darynda’s name on the caller ID and answered.
“Gia?” Darynda sounded hesitant and scared. “I’m afraid I have unsettling news.”
She caught her breath at the urgency in her grandmother’s best friend’s voice, and she just knew it was serious. “Where is Grammy?”
“Moonglow Cove Memorial.”
“What?”
“Brain tumor.”
“When?”
“Surgery. Now.”
“Did you call—”
“Not yet. I thought I’d leave that to you since I’m not family.”
“Okay, I’ll handle it. How are you, Darynda?”
“Holding it together,” she said, then added in a whisper, “barely.”
“On my way.”
“No need to rush up here,” Darynda said. “It will be a long surgery. Could you please feed Pyewacket her breakfast? We forgot.”
Shocked, clutching the letter to her chest, Gia stumbled to the pantry, found the cat food, and measured out a scoop for the Siamese. She went outside to dump the kibble into the food dish, scoop and all, and dropped onto the steps.
Pyewacket came out from underneath the porch and stretched, before leisurely strolling, tail held high, toward her breakfast.
Gia called Madison, who said she’d be on her way as soon as she wrapped up filming her morning show. Gia tried not to judge her for not dropping everything immediately. Maddie’s life was complicated.
Then she wrestled down Shelley. Neither she nor Madison had been in contact with Shelley since The Incident with Raoul. And Grammy, although she knew their sister had accepted a barista position at a yoga retreat called Cobalt Soul in a remote part of Costa Rica, hadn’t heard from her since.
A Google search and a phone call hooked Gia up to the front desk of Cobalt Soul, where the serene-voiced receptionist told Gia that she would give “Sanpreet” her message when she emerged from her healing session.
Apparently, Shelley had reinvented herself, a new name and all. Good for her, Gia thought. Check it off the list. Job done. Sisters notified.
Gia shifted her gaze to the Gulf of Mexico.
The envelope, dampening from the humid sea air, softened in her hands. Raking her bare toe against the weathered, sandy boards of the back steps, Gia blew out her breath through puffed cheeks and turned the envelope over. Her finger twitched to tear open the flap and find out what was inside, but her mind said, Whoa, hold up.