“It wasn’t what you think. It was work.”

“I know. I’d love to see your passports sometime. You’re going to think about this for a while and you’re going to realize you can deal with her now. She didn’t love you enough and she was selfish. She neglected you in ways that still hurt, but you’re whole and strong. You’re all right. You won’t be like that. Because of that experience, you’ll be a completely different kind of mother.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m confident. But I want to suggest one thing. It’ll be hard because right now you’re bruised. I suggest you think about all the things you had. You’ve been putting a lot of focus on what you didn’t have. Your mother doesn’t love you the right way, but she loves you.” He reached across the console for her hand. “You have a chance to write the script here, Gracie. You write the life you want. In fact, I don’t really get it—you’re completely sane. How’d that happen with that prima donna of a mother?”

“Years of therapy,” she said. “It was sports therapy, but you can’t dump the phobias and anxieties and neuroses without some good old-fashioned counseling. And there was Mamie—sweet, loving Mamie. She worked for my mother and she coddled me.”

“That explains a lot,” he said.

“I don’t want to do all the things that I, on the receiving end, couldn’t bear.”

“I understand completely,” he said.

“I want an ordinary, happy life,” she said. “I am not lazy.”

“I like your life,” he said. “I like the life you envision.”

When they finally got back to town, Troy drove the van into the alley behind the shop. No need to park in the front of the store anymore—there was no danger from the mystery man of the note. His Jeep was back there anyway.

“Troy, I think I need some time alone,” she said. “I hope you understand. I feel pretty pathetic right now.”

He leaned toward her and gave her a small kiss. “Don’t work this too long, honey. Lots of people have superannoying mothers.”

“I know. But I need a little time. And there’s no need to worry that anyone is threatening me.”

“Let’s at least talk later,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

* * *

Troy didn’t have to think about it long. He went back to his apartment, cleaned up and changed clothes and drove back to Bandon. He entered the resort property on a guest pass at about six o’clock. There was no answer at Winnie’s cottage and he asked himself where she might be. He drove around a little bit, thinking. There were five restaurants on the property—a couple of clubhouse restaurants and then fine dining. He went to the one with the view of the ocean.

The maître d’ greeted him. “I’m here to meet Mrs. Dillon Banks,” Troy said smoothly as if this visit was planned.

“I wasn’t aware she was expecting a guest. This way, sir.”

She had a table near the window and she was alone. Her table was a bit secluded from the other diners. She wasn’t eating. She had her fingers wrapped around a drink and she looked pensively out the window.

“Mrs. Banks,” he said.

She looked up at him.

“May I join you for a few minutes?”

“I suppose this has something to do with my daughter. Yes, Mr. Headly. Have a seat. Have a drink.”

“Thank you,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite her. The waiter was instantly beside him. “Bring me whatever Mrs. Banks is having.”

“So, is Izzy all right?”

“She’s a little rattled, but she’s resilient. You’ll have to forgive me, Mrs. Banks—it’s hard for me to think of her as Izzy. She’s Grace to me.”

“Grace. Yes,” she said, sipping her drink. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Headly?”

“I’m a high school teacher. And a part-time bartender at a local beach bar. Not exactly a high-profile profession, but I find teaching rewarding.”

“And your relationship with Izz...Grace? Is it serious?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m very serious about her, though we don’t have marriage plans. I’m not rushing into anything. That doesn’t mean I’m hesitant. It just means we deserve time. Tincture of time, my grandmother used to say.”

“Are you hoping for a big inheritance?” she asked forthrightly.

“Until very recently, I didn’t know anything about Grace’s family. Until this very moment, inheritance never crossed my mind.” He laughed uncomfortably. “By the looks of you, such an event is a very long way off.”

She didn’t make eye contact. She lifted her drink and took a sip. Her hand trembled and she used her other hand to help stabilize it.

His drink arrived quickly. He took a sip. He made a face. “What is this?”

She actually smiled. “A Manhattan. With bitters.”

“Delicious,” he said, putting it down.

She chuckled in spite of herself. “Well, let’s have it, shall we? Why are you here? What do you expect me to say?”

“I’ve never seen two women more adept at button pushing, and I have a sister and mother. They’ve had their share of standoffs. But what I saw a couple of hours ago was brutal. So, here’s my question. What’s it going to take, Mrs. Banks? Is it possible for you to have some kind of decent relationship with Grace?”

She thought for a moment. “I should be having this conversation with my daughter.”

“Of course you should, but you haven’t. Grace is unhappy and if I’m not mistaken, you’re unhappy. There must be a way.”

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand.”

“That there’s baggage? That you have a history of conflict? That finding a compromise is difficult? Try me. I’ve mediated some legendary arguments in my time. Right now, I have at least fifty teenage girls in my classes. Go ahead, lay it on me.”

She took another sip. “I’ve made mistakes with my daughter, but this time I can’t afford to make another mistake.”

“Sending her that note...”

“It was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I want my daughter to come home, Mr. Headly. It’s imperative that she come home. But I don’t want her to come out of pity.”

“For a visit?” he asked.

“For a very long visit. In a rash moment I thought if she felt unsafe on her own she would let me help her. I made a mistake.”

“She’s safe. And I don’t think she needs help. She was pretty clear—she doesn’t like the career choices you suggested. She’s really good at what she does. And she’s happy.”

“Mr. Headly—”

“Mrs. Banks,” he said, leaning toward her. “My name is Troy. For just a minute, let’s pretend we’re friends and that we trust each other. At the least, let’s assume we both have Grace’s happiness and safety as our shared priority.”

She took another bolstering drink. Her hand continued to shake a little. “Troy. I have money. Family money. Taking care of it is complicated. With money comes predators. With old money there is responsibility. When that money is Izz—Grace’s, I frankly don’t care if she spends it, gives it away, puts it to work or does what I’ve been doing—preserve it and grow it. But I don’t want her to be robbed or to lose it because of her inexperience. It’s time for Grace to trust me. To let me show her how to manage. She has absolutely no experience in the management of wealth.”