Harlow ran through the house to the master. Her mother’s bedroom was empty, and there were clothes missing in her closet.
“She can’t be gone,” Harlow said aloud. Only she was. She’d left without saying anything to anyone.
“I don’t understand,” she said into the silence.
She walked outside, careful to lock the front door. In the car, she stared at the house she still thought of as home. How could her mother have gone away without telling her?
Harlow blinked away the familiar burn of tears. How ridiculous. She was twenty-two years old. She didn’t need her mother!
But what had been rage a week ago had morphed into shame and longing. Now she battled a touch of worry. Her mom could be anywhere—what if something happened to her? How would anyone know?
Harlow told herself to take a breath. She would talk to Austin when she got to work. If he didn’t know, then she would call Jase. She didn’t have much contact with her mother’s boyfriend, but he should know where she was. And if they were off together, his office would have information.
That decided, she backed out of the driveway and headed for the marina. It was already hot and humid, despite the early hour. As she drove, she thought about the empty house and how one day it would belong to someone else. Back when her parents had told her about the divorce, her mom keeping the house had offered consistency. She’d been comfortable knowing her home, her room, her life weren’t going to change too much. She’d been going off to college, but she liked knowing the house was still there for her to come home to—at least while Austin was in high school.
But it had to have been different for her mom. She might have kept the house, but she’d lost her marriage. Harlow knew her mom had been sad but determined. At no point had Harlow thought they might get back together.
Harlow arrived at work and went in search of her brother. He was crewing for one of the other captains, and she found him inspecting the child-sized life jackets.
“Hey,” he said when he saw her.
“Mom’s not at the house.” She heard the panic in her voice. “Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah. She’s in Santa Barbara visiting Lillian. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No. We’re not speaking. I can’t believe she would leave without saying anything.”
Austin’s mouth thinned. “Jeez, Harlow, what did you do this time?”
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re…” He paused. “You’re difficult lately. More so than usual. It’s like you’re always mad.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. Mom’s in California. Now you know.”
“You’re pissed at me. Why?”
“Because you’re mean to Mom. A lot. What is she doing that’s so bad?”
“I’m not mean. She only thinks of herself. Selling the house when she knows I—”
Austin shook his head. “Seriously? Tell you what—you pay for it just one month and then we’ll talk.”
“You know it’s expensive?” She wouldn’t have thought him that aware.
“Sure. We’ve talked about her selling it and moving someplace cheaper. I’m fine with that. Dad’s money is going to end someday. You’re already gone, I’ll be gone, and then what? Who’s looking out for her?”
Harlow wanted to say that he was just being a suck-up, only Austin had always been the steady one who could see both sides of a situation. A sometimes annoying but mostly satisfying characteristic.
“I just didn’t think she’d take off without talking to me,” she grumbled.
“Then text her.” He frowned. “Not right now. It’s four thirty in the morning there.”
“I’ll think about it.”
His mouth twisted. “Why do you always have to take the hard road?”
“I can’t help it. That’s kind of my thing.”
“Dumbass thing, if you ask me.” But he was smiling as he spoke.
Harlow lunged for him. He caught her easily, twisting her until she was bent nearly in half, then tickled her. She squealed and wriggled away.
“Don’t do that!” she said, but she was laughing as she spoke.
“Can’t help it. Tickling you is kind of my thing.”
She leaned against him. “Don’t tell, but I miss her.”
“Me, too. Having my own apartment isn’t the party I thought it would be.”
“I’ll text her.”
Austin shook his head. “You’re too stubborn. One day you have to suck it up and admit you don’t know everything.”
“One day,” she agreed with a grin. “But not today.”
She stored her bag in her locker, then got to work, checking out her boat before her charter. When that was done, she went into the office to complete the paperwork. Her dad was at his desk.
“How’s it going, kid?” he said when he saw her.
“Good. I have a charter in a bit.”
“We’re busy. That’s good.”
She thought about asking about the business plan. He’d promised to review it, but hadn’t said anything yet. But instead of mentioning that, she found herself saying, “Dad, was your divorce mutual?”
He looked at her, his expression quizzical. “What brought this on?”
“I don’t know. I was thinking about it. When you told me and Austin, you two didn’t get into details. Everything was already worked out.”
They’d obviously been planning it for a while. Harlow remembered how angry she’d been when she’d figured out that her parents had been waiting for her to graduate from high school before making the announcement. She’d felt so betrayed, with the lie of omission burning deep. Now, looking back, she saw it as an act of kindness. Her parents hadn’t wanted their decision to disrupt her senior year.
She looked at her father. No, not her parents. Her mother. She’d been the one to make that call.
“Dad, did you cheat on Mom?”
Her father’s brows rose. “Why would you ask that?”
His falsely hearty tone was answer enough. She felt her shoulders slump as questions assaulted her. Who? When? How many times? The weight of it all nearly pushed her to the ground.
“Did she know? Is that why you got a divorce?”
He looked away. “There were problems, Harlow. Marriage is complicated.”
She straightened, then repeated. “Dad, did you cheat on Mom, and is that why you got a divorce?”
He looked at her. “Yes.”
Her stomach lurched. “Okay,” she whispered.
“There were other factors. Your mother—”
She held up a hand. “I’ve got a charter, Dad. I have to go.”
She walked out of the office. On her boat, she drew in a couple of breaths, trying to make sense of what she’d learned, only to realize that wasn’t possible. With a few simple words, her worldview had shifted. For reasons unclear, she’d always assumed her mom had been more at fault for the divorce than her dad. Maybe because, as Kip had pointed out, it was easier for her to be mad at her mom.
But she’d been wrong. And if she’d been wrong about that, then what else was she assuming that wasn’t true? And what other unpleasant surprises were lurking, waiting to pounce?