“It doesn’t get this hot in New York, does it, Libby?” Celia asked.
“No,” Libby said cautiously. She didn’t want to have to talk about New York with a bunch of people who probably didn’t care a bit about the city. Her mother was always asking those kinds of questions. It made Libby feel so uncomfortable. She’d dealt with it her whole life and still had never gotten used to it. At eighteen, she hadn’t cared what people thought because she was leaving and never planning to return, but now that she was there, she realized how her comments could hurt people.
“Libby hopes to sell the Roberts’ cottage soon,” her mother said as Catherine returned with the newspaper.
Leanne took a bundle of newspaper from her daughter and began spreading it over the picnic table. That was one of Pop’s tricks: always crack crabs on newspaper so it can be wadded up at the end for easy cleanup. She could hear him saying it in her head, and it made her smile.
“Oh, yes! I knew Anne Roberts very well,” Esther said. “We were good friends all the way through high school.”
Libby perked up. She couldn’t help but wonder if Esther had known Mitchell. This could be the perfect opportunity to find out more about him. Who was the man who had propositioned Nana? Had Nana been sure about her love for Hugh at the beginning of their relationship? Had she ever been interested in Mitchell? Had Nana given Mitchell a reason to hope she might run away with him? She had so many questions and no answers.
Anne had been offered a life in a different place, with a man who had a fantastic job in a big city, and yet she’d stayed in White Stone, with Hugh. Had it just been the fact that she was married that had stopped her from leaving? Having seen Nana and Pop together, it was hard to imagine. They’d seemed so happy. Nana didn’t seem like someone who was trapped.
“Living in her house, I’ve become so curious about Anne and Hugh. I knew them as adults, but I find it fascinating to hear stories about them when they were young. What was Anne like as a girl?” she asked, hoping to shed some light on the letter, and glad to be off the topic of New York.
“Ah, she was the queen of the town. She was so pretty. Everyone loved Anne. But more than that, she was so kind. Did you know, at only twenty she helped raise money to restore the church in town? It’s a historical monument. She didn’t want to see it in decay, so she’d organized bake sales and car washes, as well as soliciting donations—door to door—with the area businesses to pay for its renovations and upkeep. I think she was probably known for her kindness more than her beauty.”
Libby knew exactly what she meant because, while Nana was a beautiful woman, Libby remembered her kindness most of all. She remembered her tender smile, the way she looked up at the sky when she laughed, and how she would sing whenever someone was upset. If Libby had come over after a particularly stressful day when her mother had argued bitterly on the phone with her father, or when her mother had pushed her too hard that day, Nana would pull out a chair, make her something to drink, and quietly sing while she moved around the kitchen—sometimes singing the words, sometimes humming a tune. She’d always known how to calm her.
“Do you know how Hugh and Anne met?” she asked Esther.
“I do! I was there!” she smiled, her face lighting up. “It was our first day at high school. The three area middle schools emptied out into our one high school, and I still remember putting on my pink lipstick because I wanted to look nice for all the new people I may encounter. I met Anne before school, and we walked there together. She saw Hugh going up the steps into the building and she grabbed my arm, stopping me right there on the sidewalk. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked, knowing I didn’t know either. She was instantly captivated by him—and thrilled when she realized they had Science class together.”
“They’d known each other that long?” Libby asked, wanting her to go on for hours with her stories.
“Yes. They only started dating, though, their senior year. Hugh was too traditional to ask her out before she was eighteen.”
Libby smiled at the thought. It was just like Pop.
Catherine set the crabs and the bowl of green beans onto the table along with a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice. “Time to eat!” she said, pulling Libby back into the present.
“This is lovely, Catherine! Thank you!” Celia said, pulling a paper napkin from the roll and placing it in her lap. The other ladies nodded.
To Libby’s relief, Celia didn’t say anything embarrassing as they had their dinner. She’d let Leanne dominate the conversation with discussion regarding organizing the summer bonfire. As she watched her mother, Libby was surprised at how relaxed she looked sitting at a picnic table in the hot sun, cracking crabs. Celia even laughed loudly at something Esther said, covering her mouth and looking around as if she’d done something wrong. It made Libby smile. She was glad to see her mother having a good time. In a way, Pete was right. There was a lot of Celia in Libby. She could understand how difficult it was for her mother to open up, and she knew what that worry and awkwardness felt like. Watching her, it made Libby feel a sense of closeness to her mother that she’d never felt before.