“Who’s the internship with?” Anahera asked, digging through fading memories for more than faint impressions of the child the nineteen-year-old had once been, but there wasn’t much. Ten years’ difference in age had been too big a divide for them to cross.
A smile so bright, it was as if the sun had come out. “A collective of professional travel photographers who want to support those wanting to get into the industry. I get to travel with them, learn from them.”
“These are hers.” Tone humming with pride, Josie pointed to the images on the café walls.
All featured Golden Cove residents caught in moments of laughter and joy. Nikau, the black curves of his tÄ moko defined with crystal clarity by the sun and his handsome face dipping a little as he grinned while thrusting a hand through his hair. Mrs. Keith throwing back her head and laughing so hard that you could almost hear the boom of sound. Josie, smile soft as she looked down at her baby bump, her hand curved under it.
“These are incredible.” Anyone could do bleak West Coast landscapes—the landscape itself called for it, posed for it. But to get Nikau to grin like that when, from all Josie had told her, he’d changed in brittle, angry ways from the boy she’d once known, that took skill, and patience. Not only had Miriama managed the feat, she’d captured the moment in stunning color.
And it hadn’t escaped Anahera’s notice that Miriama had juxtaposed her subjects against backgrounds that posed unspoken questions about public and private faces, about the truth of happiness itself: torn pages and wadded-up paper strewn across a floor, a room crammed full of dolls, a lonely stretch of beach. “You have a gift.”
“Thank you,” Miriama said in open pleasure, as she brought over the two coffees. “My favorite is the one of Josie. It’s pretty hard to outshine the ocean, but she did it like a pro.”
“No need to butter me up.” Josie scowled. “It’s not as if you’re going to ask for a raise.”
Laughing, the young MÄori woman with deep, dark eyes and black hair pulled back in a bun leaned down to hug her sun-kissed arms around Josie. “I love you, Jo. Sorry I’m being a disloyal brat and running off to the city.”
“Just so long as you remember me when you’re rich and famous,” Josie said, patting the girl on the arm with sisterly affection.
“Always. Let me get you the cake.” She brought over two generous slices. “Shall I walk the last piece over to our local tall, silent, and mysterious hunk?” A waggle of her eyebrows. “You know he has a weakness and he always pays.”
Josie nodded. “The constabulary,” she added after Miriama walked out.
“I think I met him.” Anahera told Josie of her breakdown. “How long’s the police presence been a thing?”
“Three months. His name’s Will. Came from Christchurch.”
“Christchurch?” That was the biggest city in the South Island. “What did he do to get banished to Golden Cove?”
Josie shrugged. “No idea—but I saw his name in the papers before that for solving some high-profile cases, so it must’ve been pretty bad.” She turned slightly to call out to her boy. “Baby, do you want some cake?”
Engrossed in his coloring, Niam just shook his head.
“It’s so good to have you back, Ana,” Josie said afterward. “I’ve missed my best friend so much. It’s finally back to how it should be.”
Anahera smiled, but she knew that it was impossible for things to ever be the same. “It’s good to be back,” she said.
In truth, she’d had nowhere else to go, and here, at least she had Josie.
“Will you miss London?” Josie asked after swallowing a bite of cake. “You had such a glamorous life, going to all those premieres and shows, and performing your music in those huge concert halls.” Her face glowed. “I showed the articles to everyone. My friend, the star classical pianist.”
Anahera took a bite of cake to give herself time to think of an answer that wouldn’t shatter Josie’s illusions. “Holy cow,” she exclaimed in honest surprise. “This cake!”
“I know—amazing, right? Julia is a magician.”
“Julia Lee? Didn’t she become a lawyer?”
Josie set off on a welcome detour into the life of the other woman, but led back around to her question afterward. “You will, won’t you? Miss London.” In her eyes was another question she didn’t ask—Anahera had said she didn’t want to talk about Edward and Josie was good enough a friend to give her silence on that topic.
“It was nice while it lasted,” Anahera said.
It had been nice until she’d realized her entire life was a lie, that, for six years, she’d been a prop in someone else’s play. “The music… yes, that was wonderful.” Even though it was now ashes inside her. “And I got to see the most amazing shows, meet so many incredibly talented people.”
Anahera had used to joke that the theater was Edward’s mistress, never imagining she had a flesh-and-blood rival. “But a girl can’t live on premieres and concert halls when her whÄnau is back here.” Anahera’s husband was dead and so was her mother, which left Josie the only family she acknowledged.
Sometimes, it wasn’t about blood ties.
If Josie had seen her at Edward’s graveside, she’d have known that something was horrifically wrong, something more than Anahera’s young and gifted playwright husband being dead.
The little bell over the door rang.
When Anahera looked over, it was to see Miriama walking in. She gave them a thumbs-up. “He took the cake and we’re five dollars richer.”
“She’s beautiful,” Anahera said quietly to Josie as the younger woman went to ring up the sale.
Josie caught the question in Anahera’s statement. “Thankfully, she’s managed to avoid the usual small-town traps—she’ll be leaving Golden Cove before autumn falls into winter.” A low murmur. “If she ever decides to come back, it’ll be like you, on her own terms.”
Anahera knew Josie’s words didn’t apply to Josie herself. Her friend was exactly where she’d told Anahera she wanted to be when they were only fourteen: married to Tom Taufa, mother to his babies, and owner of her own café.
“Hey, Jo, you mind if I bug out a little early?”
Josie nodded at Miriama. “Going for a run?”
“Need to stretch out the legs.”
Anahera glanced at her watch after the girl left. “I better head out, too,” she said. “I want to have some time at the cabin while it’s still light.”
Josie frowned. “Ana, I didn’t think you were serious about staying out there, otherwise I’d have asked Tom to fix it up a bit. I made up my spare room for you.”
Anahera’s cold, hard heart threatened to crack. “I need to go there,” was all she said.
4
Josie had made her a care package because, despite her hopes, she knew Anahera.
Anahera was putting the box of supplies into her Jeep when she felt a prickling at her nape; she glanced back and saw the cop watching her from outside his post. Keeping an eye on the stranger in town.