With a slight shake of her head, Amy hastily folded the letter back up and carried it to the guest room. There, she flicked the lights on, perched on the edge of the bed, and blew out a deep and shaky breath. After a long moment, she unfolded theletter and brought it up to the light, Lily’s words bringing her stepdaughter back to life.
Dear Amy,
I’m sitting out on the veranda right now and looking out at the water. It’s so beautiful here. I wish you could see it, and I wish you were here, so we could go on our walks together. Remember how we’d wake up early and sneak out before Dad woke up? Even back then, we thought we had to tiptoe around him, but we didn’t know any better.
Things are different now.
Mom’s family is so much more than I ever thought they would be. Being here has given me a second chance at life and love, and I couldn’t be more grateful. The only thing missing is seeing you, Lucas, and Sylvie again. I know you’ve already turned me down, but I’m just going to keep asking.
You’ll always have a home here if you need it.
I hope you’re taking good care of yourself.
Love always,
Lily
By the time she finished reading the last sentence out loud, Amy was in tears again. Over and over, she turned her stepdaughter’s words around in her head, and she wondered what they meant. Although she missed Lily desperately, she knew she couldn’t pack up and leave and go to Provincetown, of all places.
Eric would never let her.
And other than Lily, she had no one there.
At least in the city, she had her children, she had a house to tend to, and come tomorrow morning, Eric was going to be back to his usual dismissive self.
It was the way her life worked, and even though she died a little more every day, it was better than the unknown.
There was no telling what kind of life awaited her in Provincetown, and Amy wasn’t brave enough to find out.
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Amy whispered before clutching the letter to her chest. She shuddered and swallowed several times before she could speak again. “I hope you and I do see each other again. I really do.”
Chapter 1
One Month Earlier
“Ican carry these, John. It’s not necessary—”
John jumped forward and took the shopping bags out of her hand. He gave her a slight shake of his head and motioned for her to walk ahead of him. “No can do, Mrs. Taylor. It’s my job.”
Amy gave him a small smile, her black heels clicking steadily against the gleaming hardwood floors of the lobby. When she reached the elevator, she pressed the button and shifted from one foot to the other. John, an eager and bright-eyed thirty-year-old who’d been their doormen for the past ten years, waited alongside in his crisp and pressed red-and-gold uniform, his blond hair slicked back. The doors to the gray-colored elevator pinged open, and Amy stepped on, pausing to take the bags from John when someone else called out for him.
Across the lobby, the glass doors slid open, revealing Mrs. George, their neighbor from across the hall. She hurried across, an expensive white fur coat draped over her shoulders and her black five-inch heels making a steady clicking sound. Reluctantly, Amy held the door open for her until she stepped on, the smell of her sickly-sweet perfume wafting up Amy’snostrils. As soon as the doors pinged shut, trapping them together, Amy immediately regretted it.
Even on a good day, she didn’t like Mrs. George.
The elderly woman with her bleached teeth, platinum-blond hair, and pounds of makeup slathered on her face was both cruel and envious and never missed a chance to make Amy feel smaller than she already did. So much so that Amy often went out of her way to avoid the woman altogether and plastered an insincere smile on her face whenever they were forced into the same circles. Even now, as Mrs. George examined her reflection in a small mirror, Amy felt anxious.
She knew the older woman was getting ready to pounce.
When Mrs. George placed long, red, manicured nails on Amy’s arm, she knew it was over.
And there was nowhere else for her to go while she pleaded for the elevator to go faster.
“When were you going to tell me that charming husband of yours got a new car?”
Amy laughed weakly. “Oh, you know what men are like. They love their new toys.”
Mrs. George threw her head back and laughed, the sound like grating nails against a chalkboard. “Yes, my Richard is the same.”
