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And in fact, when Eddie began work at The Clam Factory again, the TV crew had moved on, too. Eddie tried to flirt with the cameras and get Diana’s or Rachelle’s attention, but nothing he did attracted them. Once, Diana actually snapped at him, saying, “Some of us have real work to do back here.” She then disappeared through the kitchen door.
These were dreamy days, Rachelle thought.
When Rachelle returned home on Monday, she and Darcy snuggled up on the couch with chocolate and tea, chatting about their days.
“You should have seen Eddie when he got to the clinic today,” Darcy was saying. “He wore this crazy black hood, and he was really pale. I think he hid in his house the entire week.”
Rachelle winced and laughed. “I hope we didn’t go too far?”
“We gave him one week of vacation,” Darcy said. “It sounds like he needed time off to think about how he treated people.”
“Remind me never to make you mad,” Rachelle said.
Darcy giggled and bowed her head over her phone to text Steven. Her smile only got bigger. Rachelle wanted to pester her and demand that she stop falling so deeply in love. But what kind of sister would she be if she wanted that?
All she wanted was for time to stop moving so quickly. Before she knew it, she would be the maid of honor at Darcy’s wedding, watching her sister move on to the next stage of her life. It hurt her heart to think about it.
Rachelle arrived to work at eight thirty the next morning. Benny and Paul were already there, making up a brand-new argument for their on-screen characters, and Henry and the camera crew drank coffee in the dining room. Diana was nowhere to be found, so Rachelle got started without her, reading over the document they’d put together yesterday regarding today’s menu.
Nine fifteen rolled around, then nine thirty, and still, Diana wasn’t there. Rachelle was mostly finished with prep and felt fidgety as the lunch rush approached. Although she’d already been in Diana’s office that morning to review their notes, she decided to check again, just in case Diana had snuck in without notice.
When she opened the door, Rachelle nearly leaped from her skin with surprise.
“Hello?” Rachelle asked.
A teenage girl was seated in Diana’s chair. She had long black hair and big, soulful eyes, and she looked jittery and strange, as though she’d been dropped in that chair from a UFO.
“Um. Hi,” the teenage girl said, with all the sass of a teenage girl. “Who are you?”
Rachelle placed her hand on her hip. “I’m Rachelle. Who are you?”
The girl flipped her hair behind her shoulders and stood. Rachelle assessed the space to find a very large backpack in the corner, presumably belonging to the girl. How had she snuck in? Was she looking for somewhere warm to sit for a while? Was she related to Benny or Paul or something?
“And what can I do for you?” Rachelle asked.
The girl suddenly looked on the verge of tears. Rachelle had forgotten this about that age—that you were constantly at the mercy of your feelings. (She was still sort of that way, but she had marginally more control. She hoped.)
“I’m looking for my mom,” the girl said between sobs.
Rachelle’s eyes widened. “Your mom?”
“Diana!” the girl cried.
Rachelle was taken aback. Diana had a daughter. Why hadn’t she ever said?
More than that, how did America not know about the daughter of Ryan and Diana March?
“Hey. It’s okay,” Rachelle said, standing awkwardly. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“I just want my mom! Where is she?”
Rachelle’s mouth was dry with panic. “She isn’t here today,” she said finally.
“She’s not answering her phone!” the girl said.
Rachelle grimaced and removed her phone from her pocket. “Let me try her, okay? One second.” She pressed the phone to her ear and listened as it rang and rang across the island. Diana didn’t answer.
“Sit tight for a second,” Rachelle said. She whipped around and hurried into the dining room to find Henry.
