4. Kate
T en thirty? Kate finally lifted her head from the laptop where she’d been transcribing her notes, peering at the clock on the lab wall in dismay.
How did she lose track of time the way other people lost track of their glasses? Speaking of, where were hers?
She glanced around the small desk, then turned toward the long testing tables, only now aware that all her colleagues had gone home. Had anyone even said goodbye?
Probably, but she’d been so busy inputting the results of the lithium-sulfur battery test she’d created that she didn’t notice. She was certain that, this time, the results would support her hypothesis that the capacitor change her team proposed would improve the energy density and life cycle for large batteries.
That meant more efficient electric cars. Which meant a cleaner environment. Which resulted in a better world.
And wasn’t that why Dr. Kate Wylie spent the vast majority of her life under the oh-so-not energy efficient fluorescent bulbs of a Cornell University science lab, improving the world one supercapacitor at a time?
The phone in her pocket vibrated softly, reminding her that she had a life outside of her work. And a good one, too.
For one thing, she had two kids—and this was surely one of them—and her angel of a mother, Jo Ellen, still grieving the loss of Dad six months ago. Plus, even though they were divorced, she remained friends with Jeffrey, co-parenting Emma and Matt into their teenage years.
And she had her kitchen, stocked full of every imaginable tool and utensil so Kate could lose herself in another form of chemistry—the culinary kind.
So, yes, she insisted to herself as she fished out her phone, she had a life outside of this lab. All she had to do was actually leave this place and live it.
She glanced at the blurry screen and remembered her glasses. Where were they? As she turned, they slipped from her head and dropped onto her nose, making her smile.
It wasn’t a call from Matt or Emma, both of whom were with their father this week. A notification? From Facebook? Good heavens, she hadn’t been on that in forever.
Who was Vivien Knight?
Curiosity won and she tapped the screen, opening the message.
Hey there. This is your old friend from Destin, Vivien Lawson.
She gasped audibly. Vivien Lawson? Vivien of the Destin summer vacations? It had to be, what? Decades—several of them. The year she graduated from high school was the last time they’d gone down to Florida for a whole summer and that felt like a lifetime ago.
Why would she write now? Maybe something had happened to someone in her family. Or maybe she’d somehow heard about Dad passing away last year. Settling back, she read the rest.
Long time no talk. I hope you are well, Kate—happy, healthy, thriving, all the good things. And that you remember me, your pal from our summers in Destin as teenagers. I’m reaching out because it turns out that the old Destin house has unexpectedly come back into our lives after all these years. Apparently, my mother owned it (who knew?) and then my brother—you remember Eli?—has spent the last year remodeling it. (He’s an architect.)
She stopped there, catching her breath while staring at the words “you remember Eli.” She almost laughed. Yes, Vivien , she mused. I remember your adorable brother and the crush I had on him from the first day to the last . Not that he noticed—not when Tessa was in the room.
But the Lawsons owned that house? The thought was bittersweet, since the place had been humble and understated and packed with good memories.
Anyway, Eli and I are headed down there tomorrow for a few weeks. He has some work to finish with the contractor and I’m going to stage it for sale (that’s what I do for a living). But I couldn’t help meandering down memory lane to think about our happy summers and then, voila! Found you on Facebook! No surprise you’re a scientist! I’d love to hear about your life, Kate. Or…okay, hear me out. Want to come see us in Destin? The house is huge now—unfurnished but we’ll get the essentials while I stage it. And the beach is still the best in the world. Anyway, please think about it and know that I remember you and Tessa so very fondly. Best, Vivien
For a moment, Kate couldn’t move except to have her mind transported back.
It had been thirty years since she’d been in Destin or anywhere near it, but she could still smell the salty air and feel that incredible sugar sand in her toes. The cool tickle of the surf on her legs and the hot, hot July sun bringing out some freckles on her nose.
Just thinking about it gave her a dopamine kick. What would it be like to be there?
Closing her eyes, she let herself drift back to a place and time she’d often thought about—a world with everyone she loved all together, bathed in sunshine and high hopes. A place where logic and common sense took a back seat to playfulness and freedom and good, good times.
A place that got wiped away in what felt like an instant, never to return.
She’d tried, over the years, to figure out a way to go back to Destin. Jeffrey hated Florida’s humidity, and vacations with her kids were on the Finger Lakes or up to Canada. Then she’d thrown herself into work and life as a single mom and a researcher, and forgot that dream.
She re-read the note, focusing on the invitation at the end. Could she possibly?—
“Dr. Wylie?”
She turned at the sound of her name to see a cleaning woman rolling her bucket into the room.
“Oh, Ivette. I’m always in your way, aren’t I?”
“I work around you, ma’am,” the older woman replied, her Brazilian accent lilting. “Is no problem.”
“Actually…” She stood, grabbed her phone and straightened her glasses. “I’m done for tonight. The table’s clean, my team is gone, and I must head home and make some dinner.”
Home to think about this invitation, she added mentally.
Ivette beamed. “You try the shrimp, Dr. Wylie?”
“I did!” She gave a happy clap, remembering her latest success, thanks to this woman’s amazing recipe. “The coconut milk was the answer! Thank you!”
“Of course, of course. Now, you go home.” She waved a rag, dismissing her. “You work too much.”
“Only the weeks my ex has the kids,” Kate said, gathering her purse. “But I’m leaving now, and thanks again for the ingredient advice.”
“Of course, of course. Bye now!”
But she wasn’t thinking about Ivette’s recipe as she drove the short distance from campus to her brick ranch house in Cayuga Heights. Kate barely noticed the dark, cold, wintry night in northeast Ithaca or the chilly, empty home that greeted her when she walked in.
Instead, her mind was back at the beach, in a weathered cottage with paneled walls and Formica counters and sandy floors that “Aunt” Maggie tried and failed to keep clean.
She was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Young and free and becoming a woman. Spectacular days, moon-spun nights, and some of the most fun she’d ever had in her life.
Vivien’s invitation was so tempting. Utterly illogical—which made it out of the question—but tempting.
Later, after a bite, a shower, and a few trips through her house searching for Marie Curie, she poured some kibble for and called the always hidden kitty.
Almost immediately, her orange tabby appeared from the den—she’d been under the sofa, no doubt about it—giving a stretch and a high-pitched mew, then sauntered to the bowl like she was doing Kate a huge favor by eating.
While she nibbled, Kate stared at her phone on the kitchen counter, picking it up to read Vivien’s message for the fourth time. Oh, be honest . The twentieth.
Had she contacted Tessa, too?
At the thought of her sister, Kate’s heart dropped. It had been weeks, more than three, since she’d had anything but a cursory text from Tessa. That could mean one of a few things with her sometimes flighty, always unpredictable twin.
Either she’d met a new man who took all her attention, or she was deep in an event-planning project for the Ritz at some glam locale.
But more likely, she was just blue, grieving the loss of the late, great Artie Wylie.
It was nearly midnight, but time meant nothing to Kate’s sister. Concepts like time, home—she lived at different Ritz-Carltons around the country—logic, structure, and discipline were meaningless to her oh-so-capricious sister.
Would memories from the past matter to her? They should. Tessa had been as much a part of those long-ago summers as Kate had been.
Suddenly longing to hear the voice of a person she loved almost like no other, Kate called Tessa, disappointed but not surprised when she got voicemail.
She listened to her sister’s instructions to leave a message, somehow imbuing the order with her magical laugh and that sense of pure fun that Tessa oozed in every sentence.
She didn’t leave a message, but closed her eyes, missing that fun-loving Tessa who’d checked out when Dad died after a shockingly short battle with pancreatic cancer six months ago.
Like their mother, Tessa was mired in mourning. Kate was far better at compartmentalizing the grief, focusing on her work and family, only taking out memories of Dad when she was alone and able to process the pain of his passing.
As she walked to the stove to make a chamomile tea, she heard her phone buzz with a call and pivoted instantly, practically diving in anticipation of talking to Tessa.
The smile was already on her face when she picked up the cell and read the name on the screen. Mom? Why was she calling at nearly midnight?
Because Jo Ellen hadn’t even tried to compartmentalize, and grief had her in its grips.
“Hey,” Kate said as she answered. “You okay? It’s late.”
“I’m…I’m sorry to call at this hour. I figured you were still up.” Her mother’s voice was thick, like maybe she’d been crying.
And it felt like Kate’s heart folded in half. “Of course I’m up. What’s wrong?”
Her mother gave a dry, humorless laugh.
“I mean, other than the obvious,” Kate added, hoping these conversations would get easier with time. They had to. But right now, six months after burying the man she’d been married to for more than fifty years, Jo Ellen Wylie was one sad, lonely widow.
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” her mother said. “Make sure you got home from work okay. The roads are a little icy.”
Putting the phone on speaker and leaning it against the backsplash, Kate got her kettle and filled it with water.
“I didn’t hit any ice,” she said. “But I do have some interesting news. Would you like to hear?”
“Of course.” She heard a glimmer of happiness in her mother’s voice, picturing her smoothing her long silvery hair and tucking herself under a blanket in Dad’s recliner.
She’d sat in his beloved chair ever since he died.
“I got a message from—brace yourself now—Vivien Lawson. Do you remember her?”
Mom was quiet for so long, Kate glanced at the phone to be sure the call hadn’t dropped.
“What did she say?” she finally asked, her voice surprisingly flat. “Did…her mother die?”
What a strange question. “No. On the contrary, she told me her mother owns that beach house in Destin. Where we spent those summers.”
“Huh. Really.”
Whoa. Definitely not the response she expected. “I don’t know when she bought it, but Kate said her brother’s an architect and he remodeled or rebuilt it or something. Anyway, she invited me to come and stay there with them.”
Again, a weirdly drawn-out silence before she asked, “Are you going?”
“Of course not,” Kate said instantly. “I’ve got work and the kids and…aren’t you shocked, though?”
“I guess.”
Kate frowned. “You never heard from Maggie Lawson, did you? I mean, I know Roger went to prison, but you two were tight as tics. What happened to break all that up, anyway? Just Roger being an actual criminal?”
She didn’t answer immediately, but Kate could hear movement, like her mother was shifting in her seat or trying to get comfortable.
“I don’t know, honey. There was a hurricane and, oh, I haven’t thought about those people in forever. Maggie was…”
“A control freak.”
She heard her mother give a soft laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Intrigued, Kate poured steaming water into a cup and dropped a bag in. “Can you tell me what happened? Like, did you know her husband was… What was his crime, exactly? Fraud?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding exhausted. “I shouldn’t have called this late, honey. I’m going to bed now. I just needed to say good night to someone.”
Poor thing, Kate thought. She was an absolute wreck without Dad.
“All right. Oh, have you heard from Tess?” she asked. “I tried calling but…”
Another sad sigh filled the air. “Not for weeks,” her mother said. “Last I heard she was in…somewhere in Florida for an event. Naples, maybe.”
“Well, you know Tessa. Can’t pin that girl down.” But the truth was Tessa had never been close to Jo Ellen like Kate was. Tessa was a daddy’s girl through and through, which was another reason she was so broken this past six months.
“Mmm. G’night, dear. I’m tired now.”
“Good night, Mom.”
She slipped onto a stool behind the counter and blew on her tea, not even slightly surprised when Marie Curie leaped up to the surface and gave a green-eyed stare.
“Hey, Madame Curie.” She stroked the kitty’s head, holding her gaze. “Was it my imagination, or was your grandma keeping something from me? Not like her to avoid a good gossipy topic like I handed her.”
But it wasn’t a happy topic. They’d talked about the Lawsons over the years, but Mom and Dad always changed the subject, as if the falling out hurt too much. And they never discussed why it happened.
She wondered if Vivien knew.
Picking up her phone, she thought about writing back, but didn’t have the energy and honestly didn’t know what to say. She’d wait until she talked to Tessa. Tessa would know what to say—and it would be witty, bright, and perfect.
Right now, Kate wasn’t feeling any of those things. She felt a little blue, distant from loved ones, and chilly.
Nothing a trip to Destin wouldn’t cure, she thought with a wry smile.
She scoffed at the totally ridiculous thought and finished her tea.