Page 78 of The Treasure House

There was another brief airmail letter, written in a more unsteady hand: I heard you got engaged, pixie stick. E wrote and told me. I keep thinking about that time I saw you in Maine, when I came back from leave. I’m an idiot, I guess. Anyway, I wish you nothing but the best with the guy who was smart enough not to be an idiot.

Then there was a postcard from Maine later that year: I’ll wait.

That was the last one.

I blinked, coming back to myself and the trunk of my car. I felt like I’d been transported back in time. Who was he, this F? And what had happened between him and Marly? She’d kept his letters and postcards, so he clearly meant something to her.

I unpacked the rest of the box but didn’t find out anything more about F. I’d have to ask Jake what he knew. And if he didn’t know anything, or wouldn’t answer, I’d ask Elton.

I was in the middle of cramming everything back in the box when I saw Flo and the other kids coming out of the gym. “What happened to you?” I gasped, when I saw the red smeared all over her face. But it wasn’t blood—it looked like some kind of paint or marker.

“Lainey Mullins happened to me,” Flo said flatly. “It’s lipstick. She said it would turn me Technicolor.”

Now I was tempted to use the b-word. “I’m talking to your teachers. Where are they?”

“No, Mom.” Flo grabbed me by the arm to stop me from charging toward the gym. “Don’t. I’m all good.”

“You’re all good? You’re getting bullied by that horrible kid.”

Flo patted my arm. “Don’t crash out. I told you I’m playing the long game.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out. Eventually.” She got in the car. “Come on, it’s cold.”

“But—”

“No,” she said, cutting me off. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

I paused. She wasn’t crying or upset, she wasn’t raging. She was telling me she was handling it. I tried to listen, but it was hard when I wanted to wring Lainey Mullins’s neck.

The week after Halloween, Tim came to collect Flo for his wedding. Her teachers had given her work to do while she was away, and she was thrilled to get out of school for a week. He came in on an early morning flight on Saturday and Flo and I picked him up from Augusta airport, which was a tiny regional airstrip surrounded by sodden parkland. Augusta itself was the capital of Maine and a pretty little place on the banks of the Kennebec River, about an hour west from Oxeye. It was a cool misty morning as we drove through, the fall leaves bright in the watery morning light.

Flo was bouncing with excitement at seeing her father. I was nervous. I hadn’t seen Tim in person for months and was anxious that he’d say something negative about the house, and the fact that I’d moved our kid to rural Maine. Not that he could talk. He’d moved across the country and left her behind.

“There he is!” Flo went flying when she saw him emerge from the little red-roofed building. She threw open the car door and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, flinging herself at him. My heart pinched to see how much she loved him.

He looked good, I thought reluctantly. Tim was tall and lanky, in an olive-green duffel coat with an oat-colored sweater and dark jeans. He had a good haircut for a change, his brown hair styled with product. Wedding hair, I thought a bit meanly, assuming Alyssa was responsible for the makeover. He was still smiling as he climbed in the backseat of the car, his round glasses fogging up almost immediately. He laughed and took them off.

“I’m sitting in the back too,” Flo announced, sliding in after him.

She’d left the front door open, so I leaned over and grabbed for it, feeling graceless. “Hey, Tim,” I said. “Welcome to Maine.”

“Hi.” He dropped his arm around Flo and squeezed her. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Dad, we packed my bag in the trunk because we didn’t know what you’d want to do. Do you want to drive around looking at things and have lunch, or come see our house?”

I waited for his answer, hoping he’d pick the first option. We’d made a lot of headway, but the house was still a mess.

“What kind of question is that?” Tim said. “Of course I want to see your house! I want to see your bedroom and where you eat breakfast and brush your teeth. And can we drive by your school? Is there anywhere else I should see? I want to know everything about your life.”

I bristled, feeling surveilled. But Flo was glowing with pride and happiness.

“You should see our whole town,” Flo insisted. “It’s not very big, so it won’t take long.”

“And do you like living there?”

I drummed my fingers against the wheel as I listened to him question her, feeling tense. Luckily, she was a fountain of enthusiasm.