Without looking up, Savannah shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
Emily’s smile fell. “I can’t believe my baby is going off to college in the fall.”
Savannah glanced up and grimaced. “You’re not going to start crying again, are you?”
Emily dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “A mother is allowed to be emotional, okay?”
Charlotte and Savannah exchanged a quick look.
Emily sniffed again and straightened her back. “Speaking of emotional mothers, your aunt Lily’s son is in town.”
“Liam?” Charlotte’s brows furrowed together. “He’s been coming down a lot lately. Is everything okay?”
Emily paused to pour the batter into a loaf pan. “Yeah, Lily was telling me he’s looking around for the wedding and getting a feel for Falmouth. He’s also meant to be meeting with some clients.”
Savannah filled a cup with water and glanced over her shoulders. “Isn’t he a criminal lawyer?”
“It must have something to do with the McNealys.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to Jack, who was scrolling through his phone. He glanced up and did a double take when he realizedthey were all staring. “What? You guys haven’t heard of the McNealys? Rumor has it their family is involved in some kind of scandal, supposedly fraud and embezzlement.”
Emily gasped. “They’re one of the oldest families in Falmouth and one of the most respectable too.”
Charlotte blinked. “I guess you can’t know who people really are.”
The thought left a heavy and hollow ache in the center of her chest.
She thought she knew who she was and what she wanted out of life, but she was beginning to wonder if she’d just lied to herself.
Had she lured herself into complacency?
Had she really chosen the life she now had?
Chapter Six
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she muttered under her breath.
With a slight shake of her head, Libby lowered herself onto the carpet and peered under the bed. Using the flashlight on her phone, she pointed it at the hardwood floors and held her breath. Then, she used her hands to feel for a loose floorboard, a thin sheen of sweat erupting on the back of her neck.
What if she did find something under Annie’s bed?
Was she supposed to confront her with evidence stolen from her room?
Frowning, Libby stopped patting the floor and sat back on her legs. A twinge of pain erupted, starting at the small of her back and racing up her spine. She pressed her lips together and breathed slowly through her mouth. When she was done counting backward from ten, the muscle spasm stopped, and she gingerly rose back to her feet.
“You’re too old for this kind of thing, Lib.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—the wrinkled clothing, the wisps of hair escaping her braid—and grimaced. “You need to let it go.”
Except she couldn’t.
Not with Annie’s well-being on the line.
Libby curled one hand into a fist and used the other to rifle through Annie’s underwear drawer, even unfolding her socks to look into them. She went through one drawer after the next, the pounding in the back of her skull only growing stronger. Once she reached the last drawer, she lowered herself onto her knees and pressed her head against the dresser.
What would Annie think if she came home and saw this?
How would her foster daughter feel about finding her foster mother going through her clothes?
And what right did Libby have to invade her privacy like that?
