Page 11 of The Me I Left Behind

Carol leaned toward her mom. “Do you think there’s something there?” she asked.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Carol watched the couple for a few seconds, then nodded. “Definitely.”

“I guess time will tell. Right?” Maggie said.

Their food came eventually, and they ate amidst chatter and stories and reminisces of the chaotic Christmas they’d just spent together. At some point, Josh and Belle slipped out, and it seemed no one noticed until long after they were gone.

“Do you think Belle and Josh are a thing?” Julia asked Lia.

Lia looked at Julia, surprise etched on her face. “A thing? Oh, good Lord, no. They just have a connection, you know, because of that night.”

“Hmm.” Julia gave her a snarky grin.

Maggie knew that grin of Julia’s all too well. It meant, “Yeah, right.”

“So,” Maggie interrupted. “We will leave early in the morning. Until next summer, then? Are we back at Tequila Sunrise, last week of August?”

“Good by me,” Julia said.

Alice tipped her iced tea glass. “I’m good for that week.”

Lia nodded. “Plans are to open Tequila Sunrise for the season in late May, and we’ve already held the last week in August.”

“Great!” Julia nudged Sam. “I’ll be gone all week. Think you can survive without me?”

“It will be tough.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “But I will muddle through.”

“I’m looking forward to it already,” Maggie said. “Who knows what the next six months will bring?”

Get ready, Maggie.

Three

Max called the morning of New Year’s Day.

Maggie chose not to answer.

Out of spite. Out of fear. Or just being goddamn stubborn. She refused to talk on his terms. When the time came, she wanted some sort of edge—even if it was simply being prepared for the call.

Today was not that day.

Pacing her kitchen, she watched a skiff of snow drift over the back deck. The kids were upstairs in their rooms, playing, sleeping, whatever. School started back tomorrow for the semester, so she had to make sure they got to bed early tonight. They’d had too many late nights over the holiday, and frankly, were all exhausted.

Herself, included.

“Mom!” Carol bounded down the stairway, her phone in hand. The look on her face told Maggie she was upset, concerned, something. She made it to the landing and pushed her phone toward her. “It’s him,” she mouthed, her hand over the microphone. “Dad.”

Motherfucker!

Maggie stared at her daughter. “Jesus. What does he want?”

Carol shook her head. “What do you think? Just asked if you were home and said he wanted to talk to you.”

With a sigh, she took Carol’s phone. “We need to get new phone numbers.” She waved Carol off, indicating she should go back upstairs, but her daughter just stood there. Waiting. Apparently not going anywhere.

Maggie put the phone to her ear. She refused to put him on speaker. “What do you want, Max?”

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