Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
P amela Winslow sat at the kitchen table, the soft light of morning streaming through the window. She cradled her mug of tea, the warmth steadying her trembling hands. Across the room, Romy bustled about, her presence a strange mixture of comfort and a reminder of time slipping by. Pamela’s gaze lingered on her niece, so much like her sister at that age, and her heart ached with the weight of the secret she was carrying.
“Aunt Pamela, you’re not going to believe this,” Romy said, her voice tinged with laughter. She held up the handbag Pamela had spent the better part of an hour searching for yesterday. “I found it in the refrigerator. The refrigerator!”
Pamela chuckled softly, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to keep it safe. No one would think to look there, would they?”
Romy grinned, setting the bag down on the counter. “I’ll give you points for creativity. But seriously, are you feeling okay? You’ve been a little…forgetful lately.”
Pamela panicked. She could see the concern etched in Romy’s expression, the way her niece’s brow furrowed just slightly. “Oh, I’m fine, darling. Just a bit distracted, that’s all. Too many things on my mind these days.”
Romy didn’t look convinced but let it go. “What’s on your agenda for today?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter.
Pamela hesitated. The truth was her plans for the day were as hazy as her memory had been lately, but she knew enough to lie about it. “Oh, nothing too exciting. I thought I’d tidy up the garden a bit, maybe go through some old boxes in the attic. What about you?”
Romy’s eyes lit up, and Pamela felt a pang of guilt for the joy she’d have to dim eventually. “I was thinking about going into town,” Romy said. “I want to take a walk through some of the places I haven’t been to since high school. Just…see what’s changed.”
Pamela nodded, her smile tinged with melancholy. “Most of it’s the same, you know. Periwinkle Shores doesn’t change much. Not on the surface, at least.”
Romy sipped her coffee, her gaze distant. “That’s what I was hoping for. Something familiar.”
Pamela tilted her head, studying her niece. “You’ll find some things are different, though. Not all change is for the better. A lot of the families who’ve been here for generations have moved on. Real estate prices have gone through the roof, and the taxes have made it hard for locals to stay.”
Romy frowned, setting her cup down. “That’s awful. I always thought Periwinkle Shores was untouchable. Like it would always be the same, no matter what.”
“It’s sad, really,” Pamela said, her voice soft. “The heart of this town used to be its people. The ones who ran the little shops and the diners, who knew everyone by name. Now, it’s becoming something else. Bigger vacation homes, flashier cars, but not the same sense of community.”
Romy nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I remember when we used to walk down Main Street and you knew everyone. The whole town felt like a family. Do you still go into town much?”
Pamela shrugged, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “Not as often as I used to. I do go to the market and the bank. But you should go, Romy. See it for yourself. Maybe you’ll find something that feels like home again.”
Romy’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze Pamela’s hand. “Thanks, Aunt Pamela. For everything. It means a lot that you let me come back here. Do you want me to pick up anything for you?”
Pamela smiled, though her heart ached with the weight of her secret. “No, I don’t need a thing.”
As Romy finished her coffee and headed upstairs to get ready, Pamela remained at the table, her thoughts swirling. She hadn’t told Romy about her diagnosis yet. She wasn’t ready. But every day, the signs were harder to ignore. The misplaced handbag, the forgotten appointments, the moments of confusion that left her feeling like a stranger in her own mind.
She’d always prided herself on her independence, her ability to handle anything life threw at her. But this…this was different. The early-onset Alzheimer’s diagnosis had felt like a death sentence. Not just for her, but for the life she’d built, the memories she’d cherished.
Pamela’s gaze drifted to the window, where the garden awaited her. The flowers she’d planted years ago were still thriving, their colors vibrant against the morning light. She’d always found solace in the garden, a place where time seemed to stand still. Maybe today she’d lose herself in the rhythm of planting and pruning, if only to forget, for a little while, the reality she’d soon have to face.
But as much as she wanted to hide from the truth, Pamela knew she couldn’t keep it from Romy forever. Her niece deserved to know. Deserved to have time to prepare for the changes that were coming. As much as she wanted to see Romy, she had a selfish reason for encouraging her to come back to Periwinkle Shores when they talked months ago. Soon, Romy would know the truth of everything, but for now Pamela’s focus was to enjoy what little time they had together.
The thought of leaving her house—their family home—to Romy brought a small measure of comfort. It was the least she could do to ensure Romy had a place to call her own, a place to start fresh.
With a heavy sigh, Pamela pushed herself up from the table and headed toward the garden. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, and the air was warm and fragrant. She picked up her gloves and a trowel, determined to make the most of the day. But even as she dug into the soil, her mind remained on Romy and the conversation she’d have to find the courage to start.
She waited for Romy to leave and then she got into her car and drove down Cliff Road, to Rte. 6 and the medical building on the Periwinkle Shores town line.
Pamela adjusted the strap of her handbag as she entered the elevator, her breath catching as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirrored interior. She looked tired, she thought—not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep could fix, but something deeper, something she couldn’t quite mask anymore.
The elevator doors started to slide shut when a hand darted in to stop them. The doors opened again to reveal Rachel, stepping inside with her usual air of effortless calm. Rachel’s dark auburn hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and she was scrolling through her phone as she entered. When she looked up and saw Pamela, her face lit up in surprise.
“Pamela! What a surprise!” Rachel smiled warmly, slipping her phone into her bag.
Pamela’s heart gave a little jump. She hadn’t prepared for this. She offered Rachel a small, practiced smile and clasped her bag tighter. “Well, I suppose it is a small town,” she said lightly, trying to keep her voice even. “What brings you here?”
“I’ve got my yearly physical,” Rachel replied, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “Dr. Melendez is in this building. How about you?”
Pamela hesitated, her hand brushing the button panel as though she might reach out and press something—anything—to avoid this conversation. “Oh, same here,” she said after a pause. “Routine check-up. Nothing special.”
Rachel tilted her head, her warm, perceptive gaze lingering on Pamela for a moment longer than was comfortable. Pamela shifted, glancing at the glowing floor numbers as the elevator ascended.
“It’s funny,” Rachel said with a small laugh. “I hadn’t seen you in so long, and now it feels like we’re bumping into each other everywhere.”
Pamela nodded, her throat tightening. “Yes, it is funny, isn’t it?”
The elevator dinged softly, signaling their arrival on the third floor. The doors opened, and Pamela stepped out quickly, eager for an escape. To her dismay, Rachel followed.
“Pamela, are you okay?” Rachel asked gently as they walked down the hallway together. “You seem…I don’t know, distracted.”
Pamela stopped, turning to face Rachel. She could feel the weight of her concern, the unspoken questions lingering between them. For a moment, Pamela considered telling her the truth—about the diagnosis, about the decisions she was now faced with—but the words wouldn’t come.
“I’m fine,” Pamela said finally, forcing another smile. “Just a lot on my mind these days.”
Rachel didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway, her expression softening. “Well, if you ever need anything, or just someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Rachel,” Pamela said, her voice quieter now.
They walked a few more steps before Rachel turned toward another hallway, offering Pamela a quick wave. Pamela stood there for a moment, watching her go, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on her.
She sighed, adjusting her bag as she headed toward her doctor’s office. She couldn’t keep putting this off—not with Romy, and certainly not with herself. But facing the reality of her situation felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath her feet.
As she reached the reception desk, Pamela’s thoughts lingered on Rachel’s kindness. She envied her strength, her ability to radiate warmth even in passing encounters. But this wasn’t something Pamela could share with anyone—not yet.
When she finally sat in the waiting room, the clock on the wall ticking softly, she pulled her phone from her bag. Scrolling through her photos, she landed on one of Romy as a child, grinning ear to ear, her cheeks flushed from an afternoon of chasing seagulls on the beach.
Pamela’s heart raced as she stared at the image. She had made so many mistakes, so many choices she wished she could undo. But if she had one last thing to give, it would be security and a home for Romy—a place where she could finally heal, even if Pamela wasn’t there to see it happen.
The receptionist called her name, and Pamela slipped the phone back into her bag, her heart heavy but resolute. There was still time, she reminded herself. Time to set things right.