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  Scarlett

  March 15

  Dear Melanie –

  Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and Maggie. I pray always that you are healthy and safe and that you have found as much joy in her as I know I would. I wish with all my heart that I could see you, but that’s impossible, I know. It is so hard to love a child so much and not be able to see her. I am grateful, however, that we can write now and then so I at least know things are good.

  All my love,

  Scarlett

  Maggie continued to read with her mouth wide open and her heart aching for answers to so many questions. Who was “Scarlett,” and why did her mother have to write in secret? And why were they addressed to “Melanie?” Her mother had never spoken of this person. A memory floated into her mind of her mother reading Gone With The Wind to her when she was a young girl. Scarlett and Melanie were her mother’s favorite characters in literature. She mentally stood in the center of that garden with Scarlett, carrot gripped in hand, and announced defiantly that she would overcome.

  “Scarlett and Melanie must have been nicknames for one another,” she whispered to herself. She continued reading…

  November 30

  Melanie –

  Thank you so much for your last letter. I know how hard it must be for you to write behind Patrick’s back but I appreciate the news that all is well.

  I thank you also for telling me all about Maggie’s birthday. I’m sorry that Patrick wouldn’t let you have others over to celebrate but I know that as long as Maggie has you, she’ll be fine. You are the mother and person she needs.

  My heart aches to not celebrate these times with you but again, thank you for at least sending me word that you are well. I think of you every moment of every day and love both of you so much.

  All my love,

  Scarlett

  She read into the night and through the next morning not wanting to believe what the letters revealed. She scoured the hope chest for signs of anything that could help her piece together this puzzle. Sunlight crept into the small window in the attic. She leaned with her back against the hope chest, exhausted, her body stirred with so much anxiety she felt short of breath.

  “I’m adopted?” She asked the question out loud, but only the dusty room and a stack full of letters were there to listen, neither one with an answer.

  *

  Maggie dragged herself into the bathroom. She ran the hot water until steam clouded the mirror above the sink. Wiping some of the condensation away, she evaluated her reflection. The grime that covered her caked into her skin and the bags under her eyes practically sagged to her chin. Her brown eyes stood out amidst the dirt. Eyes that her mother always said were just like hers.

  She threw her clothes into the corner of the bathroom. Getting them clean would be a challenge beyond anything she was ready for. Climbing slowly into the tub, she lay back and let the water cover her like a blanket. Her body began to relax, but her mind was still reeling. Why would her mother keep that kind of information from her? The idea that Caroline Mitchell was not her real mother made her heart race. She tried to imagine some stranger filling that place in her life and it was impossible.

  The bathwater was like a sheet of glass covering her body. It moved ever so slightly with each breath she took, never altering the smoothness of the surface, merely rocking back and forth in one fluid motion.

  When she got out of the bath she wrapped herself in a big, comfy robe and went back downstairs. It felt good to be clean and her body ached with fatigue, but she couldn’t bring herself to try and sleep. She curled up on the couch and began reading the letters again. She stayed there for the rest of the day, reading them periodically until finally her eyelids couldn’t take it any longer and closed.

  *

  Maggie woke up, still on the sofa. She looked at her watch. It was just past midnight. The letters were scattered around her, reminding her of her discovery. Her heart sank. It wasn’t some crazy dream.

  She laid her head back down and stared at the ceiling. How was she to move forward with her life when she didn’t even know who she was, who her family was? Her head began to hurt.

  She sat up. Maybe organizing the letters would help her feel better. As if having them in order would somehow put her life in order as well. As she stacked them by date, a stray envelope fell to the ground. It had been stuck somehow to the back of one of the letters. There was no return address, but she saw the name it was addressed to. It read, “To Melanie, care of Gwen Phillips.” Who was Gwen Phillips?

  Chapter Three

  ‡

  The next morning Maggie lay in bed staring at the ceiling, nestled in the mattress with covers up to her chin. It was peaceful to watch the comforter rise and fall with each long, deep breath, as calm and consistent to her as the ocean waves. But memories of what she’d found the day before sent heaviness through her, overtaking the calm.

  Her room looked exactly the same as when she’d left for college. Her mother had changed nothing. Posters of famous rock bands and athletes hung on the walls, drooping a bit in their fight against time and gravity. Novels lined up on bookshelves that flanked the window. Her writing desk housed stacks of diaries and journals from her childhood.

  When her mother died, Maggie had returned for the funeral then hightailed it back to Seattle. Sure, she’d seen Josh then, but from afar at the memorial service. She made sure to keep herself from anything that pulled her into the past. Dealing with her father during those few days was bad enough.

  She didn’t want to hurt Josh. They’d loved each other once. If she were honest with herself, a part of her still loved him. But they were just kids then. High school teens with stars in their eyes.

  Maggie closed her eyes tight, fighting back tears. Her memories with Josh were sweet. Special. But always invaded by her dad spouting how she’d never be good enough for anyone. Certainly not for someone like Josh. He came from a solid family. He had dreams, goals, motivation. She was plain. Simple. What could she possibly have to offer him?

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Swiping a tear from her cheek she pushed her father’s words out of her mind. Not everything about living in Silver Bay was awful. She did love this house. And of course, her mother had kept her sane. Tried her best to give her a normal existence.

  Could she ever live here again? She’d still have to sell the house. There was no way she could afford it on her own. But could she be happy here? Josh’s face came to mind. Sure, she’d loved him. But they were teenagers then. Was it really love? Neither of them had married. She rolled her eyes. That could mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean he loved her still. Or did he?

  She didn’t have the energy to try and answer all the questions that rattled around her head. Part of her wanted to get back to Seattle, but in all honesty, part of her wanted to stay. Maybe not for good, but long enough to get the sale of the house going and also to try and figure out more about those letters she found.

  She was torn between the solace of her bed and the desire for coffee, her caffeine addiction won over. After brewing a fresh pot, she poured a cup and headed to the study.

  Being in the presence of books gave her heart a sense of balance and peace. They were old friends, always there and never changing. They asked nothing of her, only offering comfort and escape.

  Curled up in her mother’s leather reading chair, she watched the small specks of dust that floated aimlessly through the stream of light coming from the window, crossing the room, and illuminating the wood floor. Why did it seem like those dust particles never had a place of origin and never seemed to land anywhere? They tossed about happily, enjoying their suspended existence in the sun. If only she could feel that way.

  The window of the study overlooked the back yard. Her mother’s garden was to the left of the back porch. What used to soak the air with the sweet aroma of gardenia, along with crimson, white, and yellow roses the size of a man’s fist now sat lifeless and gray. Slivers
of paint that had chipped off the picket fence lay like dandruff in the grass. A large section of grass made up the rest of the yard, also worn from neglect, and just beyond that lay a path that wound through ice plants to a small patch of sand. Her friends used to say it was her own private beach but that was being generous. However, it had been a respite for her from the house when she was young. A place to go and sit. Think. Stare at the water that was really more silver than blue. Hence the name, Silver Bay.

  She finished her coffee and took a long, hot shower emerging more warm and awake. She padded down the hall in her bare feet, pulling her damp, dark hair into a ponytail. She stopped in front of her mother’s door and stared. It was open just a crack. She hadn’t gone in there since the night of her father’s funeral. As she pushed the door open and stepped inside, the scent of spice and flowers hung in the air, even still, from her mother’s perfume. She ran her hand across the daisy-printed comforter then sat down on the four-poster bed.

  A framed photograph of herself and her mother when Maggie was a little girl sat on the nightstand. Her mom was hugging her from behind, Maggie’s pigtails sprouting out from either side of her head. They were both laughing. The soft tick-tock of the clock mirrored the beat of her heart. Hugging the picture frame to her chest, she wished for her mother’s arms around her once again. Had it really only been a year since her mother died?

  The ding of the doorbell drew her away from her thoughts. She set the frame back on the nightstand and took another look around the room before leaving. Afraid that closing the door entirely would mean her mother was really gone for good, she left it cracked.

  She checked her face in the front hallway mirror and then opened the front door.

  On the front porch was a woman who looked to be about her own age, smiling and holding a loaf of bread in plastic wrap.

  “Hi. My name is Kate MacIntire. I moved in next door not too long ago. I wanted to come over and introduce myself.”

  Maggie peered out the door and down the road toward the cottage that had been available to rent.

  Kate followed Maggie’s gaze and said, “I know the phrase ‘next door’ is a bit of a stretch, but I wanted to come say hello anyway.”

  Maggie smiled and reached out to shake Kate’s hand. “I’m Maggie. Please come in.”

  The two women stood inside the doorway for a moment.

  Kate handed Maggie the loaf of bread. “Here. I baked this for you.”

  “Thank you. That’s really nice,” Maggie said as she took the wrapped bread from her. “Would you like to join me for a slice of it? I can’t imagine not having some right now while it’s still warm.”

  “That sounds great. I’d like that.”

  Maggie led Kate down the hallway to the back of the house and into the kitchen. As she unwrapped the bread, she pointed Kate to the kitchen table and turned to pour them both some coffee. “Please have a seat. How do you like your coffee?”

  “Black is fine,” Kate replied.

  Maggie sliced off two large pieces of the fresh wheat bread and brought them to the table with the butter dish. The butter melted quickly as the two women spread it. Maggie took a bite. Butter dripped down her chin, but she caught it quickly with her napkin.

  “When did you move in?”

  “A few months ago.” Kate took another bite and looked around. “This house is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. It’s my parents’…was my parents’ house. It’s mine now.”

  “Oh.” Kate took a sip of coffee. She shifted in her seat and looked out the window. Her long, dark hair sat high on her head in a ponytail. She had a turned up nose and bright, hazel eyes.

  “So, where did you move from?” Maggie asked, happy to change the subject.

  “New York,” Kate said. “My parents still live in Boston in the house where I grew up. My brother, David, lives near them and my other brother, Andrew, lives in New York. They think I’m nuts for leaving, but I got… divorced and needed a change.”

  Kate took another sip of coffee. “What about you? Have you always lived in Silver Bay?”

  “I grew up here. I live in Seattle now, but came back… to settle some things.” Maggie quickly changed the subject. “What made you decide to move all the way here from Boston?”

  “My mom always talked about this part of the country and how much she would love to visit. She never did get around to it though. I thought something completely different sounded adventurous, so I chose here.” Kate sipped her coffee. “I’m opening my own design shop called Atmosphere and will have a grand opening soon. I hope you can come.”

  “Oh, um. Thank you, but I’m not staying for long. I need to get back to Seattle.”

  Maggie’s cell phone rang in the front hallway.

  “Excuse me,” she said as she stood to answer the phone. “I left my phone on the hall table.”

  “Oh no, please.” Kate stood as well. She followed Maggie out of the kitchen. “You don’t need to leave. You barely had any bread.”

  “It’s fine. I have five more loaves at home,” Kate said, laughing.

  “Okay. It was nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.” Kate waved as she headed out the front door.

  Maggie waved back as she picked up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Maggie, it’s Doyle. How are you doin’, kid?”

  She could see her editor in her mind, running his hand over his bald head then resting it on his belly that pushed against his dress shirt, causing the buttons to work harder in that area.

  “I’m hanging in there.”

  “Good. We need you back at the magazine here soon. You think you can do that?”

  “I…I’m trying.”

  “Trying? Does that mean next week or the week after? Any longer and the higher-ups are going to be sore and unhappy.”

  “I know. I just have some things I need to work through here.”

  He sighed heavily and said, “Okay, here’s the deal. I can get you about a month off, if you do some work from there, but then you need to get back here.”

  “Thanks.”’

  “And, kid. Hang in there.”

  Maggie ended the call and tossed the phone on the hall table. Doyle was tough, but kind. And he was also right. If she didn’t get back to work, she wouldn’t have a job to go back to.

  The question was, did she want to go back? She couldn’t stay. Could she? She’d lost both her parents in a short period of time, she had no siblings, and could potentially be adopted.

  She sank to the floor in the hallway, leaned her head against the wall and wept.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  Maggie sat in Jamie’s Java, enjoying a hot mocha while she waited for Kate and Hannah. She had been pleased when Hannah called and suggested they meet. Maggie told her about meeting Kate; Hannah said to invite Kate as well.

  And time out of the house would keep her mind off the idea that she might be adopted. She’d spent most of the previous day searching the internet for ways to find her birth parents, but she truly had no idea where to start. And she wasn’t even sure she wanted to find anyone. Not yet, anyway. She was still dealing with letting go of one bad parent, what if she searched and found another one? And honestly, was her mind simply messing with her right now? She had no clue what those letters meant. Not really.

  Her eyes wandered to the window. People-watching had always been one of Maggie’s favorite pastimes. A young woman passed quickly, wearing a crimson suit and barking into a cell phone. Two women were casually roaming while pushing babies in strollers and drinking diet sodas. People with cameras and large shopping bags populated each street corner.

  “Are things really all that interesting out there?” Kate said, diverting Maggie’s attention from the window to her.

  “Actually, yes,” she said. “People-watching always inspires great writing material. You can judge a ton about a book based on its cover.”

  “I
’ll make sure my cover is on its best behavior from now on then,” Kate said with a grin as she headed to the counter to order a coffee.

  Maggie laughed.

  Kate returned from the counter with an enormous iced coffee.

  “Thanks so much for inviting me,” Kate said. “I’ve been so busy with the opening of Atmosphere. It’s nice to take a break.”

  “I agree. Are you working today?” Maggie asked.

  “Not officially, but I do need to go by this afternoon and see how things are going.”

  Maggie looked past Kate to see Hannah walk through the door.

  “Hey,” Maggie called.

  Hannah was dressed immaculately in a cream-colored suit and heels. She and Paul owned the largest real estate agency in town. Working on a Saturday was a necessity.

  “Hey, you two. I’ll be right back. I just need to grab a hot tea.”

  “How long have you known Hannah?” Kate asked Maggie.

  “We’ve been friends since grade school. She said you two met at a Chamber of Commerce meeting.”

  “Yes. Those meetings are so dull, but I wanted to meet other business owners and thought that would be a great way to do it.”

  The door of the coffee shop opened and Josh walked in. Maggie’s entire body tensed and she attempted a smile. Noticing the change in her demeanor, Kate turned and looked at Josh.

  “I’ve seen that one at the Chamber meetings too. Wow. I can’t believe he hasn’t been snatched up by now.” She looked between Josh and Maggie. “Looks like you know him already though.”

  “Hi, Maggie,” Josh said as he approached their table.

  “Hi, Josh.”

  “It’s good to see you. How was the cotton candy?”

  Her face flushed warm. “It was…really good, thanks.”

  “Josh, this is Kate MacIntire,” she said, motioning to Kate. “Kate, this is Josh Harden.”

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” Kate said.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand.

  Surprised by the pang of jealousy that floated through her stomach, Maggie was pleased when Josh turned his attention back to her. He smirked, as if he knew he got her with the cotton candy remark. Changing the subject was a good idea.