Page 22 of Saltwater Secrets
“Wow. She must have trusted you,” the daughter said snidely. “What was that like?”
Aria felt it like a smack. She wondered if this brownstone was now technically the daughter’s but didn’t want to speculate. Wealthy people did strange things in their wills. She remembered how miffed her own mother had been when Great-Aunt Jessabelle had gifted her home to Sam, bypassing all other members of the family. Hilary had loved that house and their aunt, but had eventually found a way to understand it had to be that way. After her messy divorce, Sam had needed the space more.
“I can go back to Nantucket, if you like,” Aria said finally. Although her place with Thaddeus was rented out, she could crash with her mother or find another apartment to live in for the summer. Maybe. “Let me look at bus times.” If she could only get to her phone.
The daughter waved her hand. “Don’t put yourself on a miserable bus on my account. Tell your mother to come get you. You can stay till she gets here.”
There was a resigned nature to how she spoke, as though she was too exhausted to fight.
“Thank you. I mean, I appreciate that.” She didn’t want to pack up her belongings and take a bus all the way to Hyannis Port. “My name is Aria, by the way. Aria Coleman.”
“I’m Renée,” the daughter said. She let out another sob and said, “My mother is gone. I hated her so much, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Aria gaped for a split second before fixing her face. The last thing she wanted was for Renée to think she found her strange or odd, even if she did.What kind of daughter hates her mother?she wondered. And who could possibly hate someone as kindhearted and wonderful as Dorothy Wagner?
Chapter Eleven
Back in Nantucket with a hole in her heart and mysteries playing out in her head, Hilary agreed to dinner at her parents’ place. Anything was better than being alone tonight.
After the round of golf (which ended with Roland beating all of them by a lot more than Hilary wanted to admit), she’d called Dorothy’s Manhattan-based lawyer twice without an answer. She realized that she wasn’t the top priority after the death of such a wealthy person. There were probably family members to reach out to, including her daughters, Renée and Rachel. Hilary wondered where on earth they were and why Dorothy hadn’t mentioned them.
Hilary briefly googled them and found no results, which felt like a mystery. Not everyone was online, she supposed—but in the year 2025, most people had something on there. A record of some kind. A photograph.
As Hilary chopped red and yellow peppers for a dinner salad, Aria called. Hilary answered, realizing she hadn’t heard from her in hours. She’d told her to hang tight in Greenwich Village, but she hadn’t delivered on giving Aria any information about what to do next. She imagined Aria was shivery and nervous,waiting around, unsure whether or not to unpack everything she’d brought to Manhattan.
“Hi!” Hilary said, her voice overzealous and high-pitched. She winced.
“Mom?” Aria did sound meek and strange. “Um, how are you?”
Estelle, Sam, and Charlie’s wife, Shawna, stopped what they were doing to turn and watch Hilary. Estelle had a spatula raised.
Hilary abandoned her peppers and her prying family and stepped out back, closing both the screen and glass doors to avoid their eavesdropping. “I’m fine, honey. I’ve been worried about you, waiting around for answers from the lawyer, and killing time. Your grandpa, grandma, aunt, and I played golf.”
“Ew.” Aria laughed.
Hilary’s heart opened. At least Aria wasn’t too upset to crack a light joke. “I know.” She swallowed. “What’s going on up there? Are you going to meet back up with Gina tonight?” Hilary really didn’t want Aria to be alone.
Aria took a breath. “I don’t really know how to tell you this. But Dorothy’s daughter came over this afternoon, and she is not happy that I’m here.”
Hilary’s heart nearly exploded. “You’re kidding! Which one?”
“Her name is Renée,” Aria said, lowering her voice. “She stormed in and demanded to know what I was doing here. I felt like a criminal.”
“Did you show her the contract?” Hilary asked.
“Eventually, yeah. But she was crying so much,” Aria said. “It took a little while to figure out how to deal with each other. I think she wanted to come here and grieve alone.”
Hilary sat down on the porch sofa and crossed and uncrossed her ankles.Poor Aria, she thought. All Dorothy had wanted was to give her a little peace.
“Where are you now?” Hilary asked.
“I’m upstairs,” Aria said. “She says I can stay until you come and get me. Ha. So now I feel like I’m at a sleepover, calling my mom to come pick me up.”
Hilary remembered those long-ago days, how she’d looked forward to evenings all to herself and then received a late-night phone call from Aria’s friends’ homes, a little voice saying,Mom, I can’t sleep. I want to be in my own bed. Hilary had broken land speed records to pick her up, of course, all the while wondering if Aria was too frightened to one day become an adult.
Hilary had been wrong to be afraid of that.
“I can come up tomorrow,” Hilary said. “Of course.”
