Page 92 of Surfside Sisters

Later, Keely wished she’d asked exactly who was included in that “us,” but in the moment she sensed that Sebastian was focused entirely on his father. Their own relationship was on hold; that was obvious. It wasn’t what Keely had dreamed of happening, but then it surely wasn’t what Al Maxwell had reckoned for.

Did Keely think for even one brief moment that Karma had given Al Maxwell what he deserved for the way he had treated Keely so long ago? She allowed herself to consider that thought. It was shabby of her to think that way. Quickly, she let the thought dissolve, disappear. She was truly sorry for Mr. Maxwell. She wished him well.

Which was a good thing, since she wanted to marry his son.

For the rest of the week, Keely kept to a strict writing routine. An odd sort of dynamism operated inside her, so that she could use the pressures of the real world to fuel her fiction writing. By the end of the week, she sent three chapters to Sally and to Juan. She was anxious about what Sally would say. Would this be the book that Juan hoped for?

Her mother continued to come out of her shell. She had lunch with friends. She volunteered at the Seconds Shop. She tried on the new clothes Keely had ordered and was quite pleased with how she looked. She was happier, and Keely went with her to a movie, and a lecture at the library, and out to the Seagrille again.

It was working, Keely thought. Keely’s presence on the island was cheering her mother, reviving her. She hoped the same was happening for her manuscript.

—

By Saturday, Mr. Maxwell had been moved from the hospital back to his house, where he insisted, in his own loud but clear way, he wanted to be.

When Sebastian called, he was distracted, clearly stressed out.

“Dad’s home, but they’ve put a bed in the dining room and moved all the dining room furniture into the den until we can have it stored. He has a portable toilet next to his bed! A portable toilet in the dining room! Poor Mom is nearly insane. We’re supposed to spend as much time with him as possible, helping him to speak clearly or remember stuff, and I’m doing that, but I can’t tell if it’s helping him or not.”

“What can I do?” Keely asked.

“Come to my house tonight.”

Keely smiled. “Do you want me to bring some dinner?”

“Sure. Anything. I just want to see you. Well, I don’t want to justseeyou—”

“I know what you want.” Keely laughed.

During the day, she barbequed spare ribs, coating them heavily in her special sauce. She took over some cold Whale’s Tale Pale Ale and bowls of guacamole and salsa and a giant bag of chips. They ate in front of the television, watching the Red Sox battle the Yankees.

Afterward, Sebastian said, “Man, it’s good to relax.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean, about your father?”

“No. Not tonight. He and Mom are in my mind enough. I want to be purely selfish. I want to focus on my own needs.”

“I think I can help you do that,” Keely said.

—

Later, as they lay in bed together, watching through the bedroom window as the light faded from the sky, they talked.

“Isn’t it odd?” Keely said. “I came home to help my mother, and now you’re helping your father.”

Sebastian groaned. “That’s the easy part for me. I don’t mind spending time with Dad or helping him into his wheelchair, eventually helping him do easy exercises so he doesn’t lose muscle. I’m glad to do that, and the doctors and nurses have been brilliant, telling us what to do.”

“What’s the hard part, then?” Keely asked, and she knew she was being vain when she thought, silently, that Sebastian would say the hard part was being away from her.

“Mom,” Sebastian said. “She’s not tolerating all this change very well. She’s angry—I think anger is often a kind of recycled fear. She…sometimes she’s not as patient with Dad as she should be.”

“Is there any way I can help?” Keely asked.

“I don’t know. Let me think about it. He’s known you since you were a kid, so he would probably feel comfortable with you. On the other hand, Isabelle might feel funny about you being there.”

“She knows you and I are seeing each other, right?”

“Yeah. She just needs more time to adjust to having you on the island again.”

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