Keeping Time: A Novel by Stacey Mcglynn Page A

up.
    The boys filing out, one after the other. “Bye, Grandma,” in chorus.
    “Bye, boys. See you tomorrow.”
    “What’s this?” Elisabeth, asking her mother, watching recognition click in her eyes, followed by tension. “Who’s Daisy Phillips?”
    “A cousin. From England. Her mother was my aunt Meredith.”
    “Why is she writing you?”
    “She’s planning a trip to New York. She asked if she could stay with me.”
    “How nice!” Elisabeth, smiling, the idea of someone flying in from England breezing over her like a current of fresh air. “When is she coming?”
    Ann, frowning. “I didn’t exactly tell her she could.”
    “What? Why not?”
    “Mom!” Michael, screaming from the porch steps. “What’s taking you so long?”
    Calling back, “I’m coming.” Turning back to her mother. “Why didn’t you tell her she could?”
    “I was afraid I wouldn’t have time to entertain her.” Coming clean with only part of the truth.
    “Does she need to be entertained?”
    “Well, no. She said she’s coming to take care of business. But once she’s here, I’m sure she’ll need at least some attention. She’ll have some requirements. I’m afraid I just won’t have the time or energy to devote to her.”
    “Mom, that’s crazy. Did you tell her not to come?”
    “No. But I didn’t tell her to come either. I didn’t write back.”
    “Mom! Come on!” Josh, yelling from the front door. “I’ve got to start practicing.”
    “Get in the car. I’ll be right there.&

ELEVEN
    DAISY, MAKING HER way into the house, barely fitting through the front door, struggling with two overly full shopping bags in each hand, containing shoes, two new pairs; three new skirt sets; a pretty pale pink robe with matching slippers. She hadn’t felt so thrilled in a long time. Enjoying every aspect of the preparation for her trip, ignoring worries that she still hadn’t heard back from Ann. Preparing herself so that when she did hear back, she would be ready to hop on the first available flight.
    To New York, of all places, a place she had never been. She had never wanted to go after the disappearance of Michael. Whenever Paul had suggested going, and he had many times over the years, Daisy always came up with an excuse not to.
    Pushing through the doorway with visions of New York, Manhattan, the skyline, the Empire State Building, Times Square, Broadway swirling in her head. Hoping she’d have a chance to see all those things while she was there. Needing to check how far Long Island was from Manhattan and where exactly Port Washington was, the town Ann lived in.
    Hurrying to her bedroom. To start packing.

    DENNIS, PULLING INTO his mother’s driveway. Hurrying up the front path to her rose–framed yellow door. Her roses, consistently thriving, healthy. Rain was beginning to fall, the first in two days. The weather forecast once again predicting a deluge.
    Up her front steps two at a time. Ringing the bell, shielding the papers in his hand from the rain. Hunching his shoulders forward. Protecting them. They were the reason for the visit.
    The door opening. Daisy, smiling as she let him in. She knew why he was there; the smile was a put-on. Inside she was sick, sick, sick. Starting to lose her resolve again. Starting to think she really couldn’t do it. She couldn’t sell the house.
    “Come in, Dennis. I’ll make you a tea. I see the rain is starting again.”
    “No, no thanks. I only have a few minutes. I have to get back to work. We have some deadlines that are going to be murder to meet.”
    Following her into the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table. Placing the papers in front of him. Lining them up tidily.
    Daisy, putting the kettle on. “Lucky we had those two dry days. I was able to get the grass cut.” Thinking, finally it looked like a sane woman lived there.
    “Who’d you get to do it?”
    “No one,” Daisy, saying, proudly. “I did it myself. It was no trouble at all.” No trouble if you