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  Once inside, the scent of bleach and cleaning solutions stung her nose. With her weekly visits over the last few months, that scent replaced the memory of Mom’s floral perfume that she’d worn for as long as Rose knew her. Now every time Rose cleaned the apartment, she automatically thought of Pearl. The mother she’d locked away.

  Rose took a breath, steeling herself. Jessie had said Pearl was fine. She wouldn’t lie, right?

  Taking care of Mom had been Rose’s job for years, but now that she was in the safety of The Cottage, Rose had no idea how to pull back the control, even with professionals on-site.

  Inside Mom’s room, both beds were empty. Pearl hadn’t had a roommate since the late Mrs. Hudson, but it was only a matter of time. Not that Pearl would notice anyway. The flowers she’d bought a few days ago bent over the edge of the vase resting on the dresser. Rose pinched the silky, delicate petals between her fingers.

  She realigned the picture frames and small trinkets from their house as little reminders to Pearl. Memories flooded her mind, but she snapped out of it as quickly as she fell in.

  As she walked into the hallway, she followed the sound of clinking utensils from the main room. Even though Rose had been up for over two hours, it was time for the residents’ breakfast.

  As she always did when she came to visit Mom, Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. Warmth enveloped her the moment she stepped into the room.

  Two broad windows made up the back wall, offering a full view of the ocean in the distance. The sight always took her breath away. But she didn’t want others to see the effect it had on her. The walls closed in around her, and the ache in her chest stole her breath.

  She turned away, her gaze pausing on each of the residents before settling on Mom’s excessively long gray hair covering the back of her chair. Even though Mom had no idea what her name was, she held on to her habit of keeping her hair as it always had been.

  It was a trait they both shared. Mom never forced Reen or Rose to cut their hair, and because of that, it grew longer than most. Rose always enjoyed the feel of it across her shoulders and back. Somehow, it brought her closer to Pearl. While it was a nuisance most of the time, keeping it up in a bun or a long fishtail braid had become her styling choice.

  Today, Pearl sat alone. The other residents sat in twos or threes around the room. Some of them chatted with each other while most had a faraway look and muttered to themselves.

  Rose sat in the empty chair next to her mother.

  As usual, Pearl slowly turned towards her daughter without any flash of recognition in her eyes. Her skin had loosened with age and the rapid decline of her health, but Rose still saw the fresh-faced woman that Dad fell for. Her lips were full and her nose a perfect slope with a rounded end. The three Barros girls favored each other, and Rose was happy for her genetics.

  Pressure rose in Rose’s chest, but she didn’t show it.

  Instead, she inspected the white gauze wrapped around her mother’s wrist.

  Movement from across the room caught her attention. An unfamiliar person nodded at Rose. She guessed it was Jessie, the newer CNA who had called her. She pulled a pen from her blonde ponytail and wrote something down on the clipboard clutched in her hands.

  Rose turned to Mom. ‘Good morning, Pearl.’ She didn’t try to force memories on Pearl, and hadn’t for a while now. Calling her ‘Mom’ was only going to cause problems. ‘My name is Rose.’

  ‘Rose,’ Pearl dragged out, tasting the word. ‘Rosemary. Herb.’

  Rose sniffed, pulling herself together. ‘That’s right.’

  Pearl licked her lips and brought the spoon full of grits into her mouth. She mashed it around as some of it spilled from the corners of her mouth. Rose lifted the napkin from the tray and blotted the food from her lips.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Pearl?’

  She muttered something, but the words muddled together.

  Rose thought, for a second, she’d heard her mom say her name. But even if she had, it wouldn’t be about her. Pearl hadn’t recognized Rose in a year.

  While this place was the best for Pearl, it wasn’t helping with her condition. The doctor said she’d never regain her memory, but deep down in a secret part of Rose’s heart, she wanted to disprove that. Her mother, the woman who loved her family with her entire heart and soul, had to be inside there somewhere.

  Rose felt terrible for thinking that way, but coming to visit as much as she could, to remind Pearl of the best part of her life, was the only way she knew how to help.

  ‘I can’t stay long today, Pearl,’ Rose said, glancing at the clock on the wall. ‘But I’ll be back later this week. I wanted to check in with you.’

  Rose placed her hand on Pearl’s uninjured wrist.

  Pearl barely blinked or acknowledged the touch. She merely went on eating and staring out the window.

  Rose stood from her chair, desperate to keep a brave smile plastered on her face. She kissed Pearl’s head and walked away.

  ‘Ms. Barros,’ someone said just as Rose reached the hallway.

  Rose turned, and Jessie stood there. She was much younger than Rose realized. Her heart-shaped face was baby-like. She had a broad smile that made Rose think that this was a newer job for her. As much as the nurses loved and cared for the residents, The Cottage saw more turnover than most of the other sections of the compound.

  ‘Thanks for coming by,’ she said. ‘We haven’t officially met yet.’

  Rose offered her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Please call me Rose.’

  ‘Does your family live in the area?’

  ‘Just me.’ Rose knew that there was information in Pearl’s chart about their family, but she sensed Jessie wanted to talk to someone. Maybe connect.

  Rose was happy to oblige. It was her way. ‘My father passed away years ago, and my sister lives…’ Rose trailed off. She had no idea where Reen lived now. Reen bounced around to more places than a flight attendant. Hell, she could even be a flight attendant for all Rose knew. ‘My sister lives out of town. She doesn’t visit much.’ Or ever.

  Jessie stuck out her lip. ‘That’s a shame.’

  Bruce, one of the male residents, leaned over his wheelchair, trying to grab a nearby cane.

  ‘You’ve got a runner,’ Rose said.

  Jessie jolted. ‘I better get on that.’ She gave Rose a little wave then took off.

  Rose took one last glance at Pearl before leaving. As Rose walked down the hallway, her chin trembled, and she cursed to herself as she dug into her purse for a tissue.

  Rose was only half an hour late for work that morning. The return traffic was a bit slower, caused by construction and weather. The last-minute repairs were necessary to keep the flow of tourists into the quiet beach towns. The sudden down-pouring rain slowed the cars to a crawl. And it especially did nothing for her mood.

  The Siren restaurant was on the far side of The Burrow, right on the water’s edge.

  It was the only mermaid-themed restaurant nearby, adding to the lore surrounding the town. Tourists loved the sea-themed decor and the aptly named menu items – Under the Sea-weed Salad, Dive-In Antipasto, Boatload of Nachos, to name a few.

  Rose parked near the street, not wanting to take away the closer spots from customers. Entering through the back of the restaurant, she punched in on the time clock before removing her coat and placing her sopping mess of a jacket onto the hook by the door.

  ‘Rosie, that you?’ Missy called from the kitchen.

  ‘Yeah,’ Rose said and pushed through the double doors into the kitchen. ‘Want me to start in the dining room?’

  ‘How’s Pearl?’ Missy asked.

  A pinching sensation in her chest stopped her in her tracks. It was a good thing Missy was busy cleaning the counters. Even though Rose had washed them the night before, Missy was a perfectionist and germophobe. While she worked, she kept her blonde hair back from her face with a battered baseball cap.

  ‘She’s fin
e,’ Rose said.

  Missy turned, digging her hand into her hip. Her freckled cheeks flushed. ‘They called you this morning because she’s fine?’

  Rose grabbed the bucket of clean utensils. ‘She fell, I guess. Sprained her wrist. But she’s okay.’

  Missy chewed on her lip and stared at her shoes before lifting her gaze to her best friend. ‘Glad to hear it.’

  Rose sighed. Missy knew well enough to leave some things alone.

  A rumble of thunder vibrated the utensils in the nearby clean bucket.

  Missy tsked. ‘Not sure we’re going to get a lot of customers today.’

  Rose grabbed the bucket and held it against her hip. ‘I can handle it once the rest of the staff comes in if you want to leave early.’

  Missy nodded. ‘Jake’s supposed to call today.’

  ‘What time? I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed.’

  Missy waved a dismissive hand. Jake’s phone calls from overseas came sporadically, but Rose knew Missy didn’t want to miss one conversation with her husband who was on tour in the Middle East.

  ‘I’ll get the dining room set up,’ Rose said, grateful for the reprieve. She pushed through to the dining room and pulled the cords of each of the shades that covered the massive bay windows, giving customers a view of the stretch of ocean. The outside patio seated most of the customers. In the summer months, people packed those seats from lunch through to dinner. Between the awning and the view, most preferred sitting outside. With the constant breeze across the Atlantic and the fans hung from the canopy, it was the perfect place to share a meal.

  As she took the chairs from on top of the tables lining the interior dining room, Rose recalled the last meal she had with Mom at the house. It wasn’t her fondest memory of her mother. Pearl had snapped in the middle of the meal, shouting, and telling Rose to get out of her house. After ending up on the sharp end of a plastic knife – thankfully Rose had switched them a week before – Rose had no choice. She’d needed help.

  Shaking those thoughts from of her head, she went to the serving station to start organizing. As she rolled the forks and knives into little napkin burritos, the storm outside raged.

  A shiver rolled down her spine as the waves crashed against the rock jetty near the outdoor patio.

  Storms always did this to her; ever since she was little and almost drowned in the ocean. Admittedly, she was more happy than sad when she finally moved out of her childhood home. No more danger right at her door. She preferred her walk-up apartment on the second floor of the widowed Mrs. Collins’s house.

  Even though she no longer had a view of the ocean, she always felt it. It was something ingrained in her that not even a brush with death could stop. Coming to work at The Siren gave her that little hint of exhilaration while not forcing her to her knees in terror. It was a thin line, but she’d dealt with it. She was the only one who could take care of her mother. The only one who wanted to.

  The napkin slipped from her trembling hands three times before she got it right.

  Sometime later, Donnie, the 22-year-old busboy, sauntered into the dining room. He flipped the rest of the lights on and crossed into the kitchen, tying his chin-length brown hair to the nape of his neck before winking at Rose.

  Holding back an eye roll, she pressed her lips together in what she hoped appeared as a polite smile.

  He’d made moves on her, several times before. And much to his dismay, Rose turned him down every single time. He was cute but too young. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle the six-year age gap.

  Though, some days, it felt like much more than that. Between caring for her ailing mother and working to pay the bills, there wasn’t time for dating. She was a spinster in the making, and it didn’t help that Missy constantly berated her about going on dates.

  It wasn’t as if she wanted to be alone. She wanted love. More than she cared to admit. She had a specific picture in mind for her perfect relationship. It mirrored her parents to a T.

  Pearl and Ben had been inseparable and even after years together, they were as in love as they were when they’d met.

  There was no way she was getting that in The Burrow. The townies knew too much of her childhood, and tourists weren’t looking for long-term commitments. She knew that firsthand, and she’d never cross that bridge again.

  The door opened, distracting her from her thoughts. Serving customers kept her mind busy. Missy had capitalized on the locals, offering sandwiches for reasonable prices during the off-season. It kept her employees paid and Rose from drowning in bills. She’d had more than enough to thank Missy for in her life.

  Later that afternoon, after Rose insisted that Missy go home before her actual shift that evening, the lull in the flow of customers was a welcome retreat. While Rose didn’t want to think about Pearl, she felt a little sick when she forgot about her, even for a few minutes.

  The bell above the side door jangled, shattering all thoughts of Pearl.

  Two police officers walked through the doors. Even though they both had Town of Burrow patches stitched on the arms of their navy-blue shirts, she only recognized one of them. The other had his back turned and typed furiously on his phone.

  Chief of Police, Patrick McCreary, met her eyes and nodded his head. A rotund man in his fifties, he had been around her house a lot during Rose’s teen years when Reen found herself in trouble more than a few times. Things had quieted down tremendously in the years since her departure, both at home and in town.

  He removed his hat and droplets of rain slid to the floor. He smoothed down the few strands of hair left on his head.

  ‘Afternoon, Patrick,’ Rose said.

  ‘Rose,’ Patrick said. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  The other officer turned around. A stone-faced guy, closer to her age than Patrick’s. His nose was thicker in the middle, looking as if he’d been in a lot of fights as a kid. His dark hair was thick and shaggy at the top of his head but buzzed on the sides. Otherwise, he was cleanly shaven. He looked more like a tourist than a local. The way his eyes darted across the restaurant confirmed it.

  Rose suppressed a smile. If he was looking for crime in this place, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

  ‘I’m Rose,’ she said, leading them to a window booth.

  ‘Shane Cassidy.’ He offered his hand.

  She took it. ‘Nice to meet you.’ His rough hand brushed over hers. She drew in a sharp breath and nearly dropped the menus. ‘I have a seat right over here for you,’ Rose said, trying to recover. It wasn’t as if many attractive men came to town to stay more than the summer.

  Patrick slid into the booth. As she moved out of the way, she focused on Shane. For a second, she thought she noticed a lumbering in Shane’s gait, but when his eyes lifted to hers, she glanced outside, trying to hide the heat on her cheeks. The rain had slowed, but the sun had yet to peek through the clouds.

  She dropped two menus on the table.

  Patrick barely glanced at the plastic menu. That was the way it worked in The Burrow. You could tell the tourists from the townsfolk in seconds.

  ‘What’s good here?’ Shane asked.

  ‘Everything,’ Rose and Patrick said at the same time.

  Patrick chuckled as Shane raised his thick eyebrows. ‘That’s helpful.’

  Rose smiled at the joke, but he didn’t. He wasn’t teasing.

  Rose cleared her throat. ‘Can I get some water for the table?’

  ‘Sure,’ Patrick said, smiling up at her with his grayish teeth. ‘And I’ll have a coffee too.’

  ‘I’ll be back to take your order.’ Rose crossed the room to prepare the waters and coffee.

  ‘Patrick,’ Mrs. Miller said from two booths over. She and her husband came into The Siren several times a week. An older couple in their sixties, they ran the antique and used bookstore closer to the town center.

  ‘Good afternoon, Sally,’ Patrick said, nodding toward them.

  ‘Who’s the new guy?’ Mr. Miller a
sked.

  ‘You know I’m retiring,’ Patrick said. ‘Shane here will be taking my position as chief come the summer.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Mr. Miller said.

  ‘What he means is, we’re happy to have you,’ Mrs. Miller said to Shane.

  His jaw tensed; even Rose could sense his discomfort across the room. Newcomers to The Burrow weren’t used to the level of nosiness around these parts.

  While the Millers went back to their clam chowder, Patrick and Shane continued their conversation.

  Rose approached the table with two glasses of water and their utensils, trying not to make it appear as if she were eavesdropping.

  ‘You’re not in the big city anymore,’ Patrick said to Shane.

  ‘Oh? I had no idea.’ Shane leaned against the back of the booth and grunted. He glared out the window.

  ‘Ready to order?’ Rose asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ Shane said without looking her in the eye. He flipped over the one-page lunch menu. ‘Burger, medium.’

  ‘You want fries with that or a salad?’

  Shane looked at Rose as if she’d sprouted two heads. ‘Fries.’

  Rose leaned toward Patrick. ‘Soup and grilled cheese with bacon?’

  ‘You know me,’ Patrick said, handing over the two menus.

  Rose took them and turned to Patrick. ‘You’re retiring? I had no idea.’

  ‘Yes, but Shane here is a great replacement. His father and I met at the academy. Been good friends ever since.’

  ‘Really?’

  Shane scoffed. ‘We’re all one big happy family.’

  She met Shane’s eyes. They were so brown that the pupils were barely discernable.

  ‘But Shane joins us from New York City. He’s well trained and perfect for The Burrow,’ Patrick said.

  ‘Not sure about perfect,’ Shane said, twirling his sunglasses over the slick wooden surface.

  ‘Let me put your order in,’ Rose said before skittering away. She walked through the swinging doors to the kitchen where Brody, Missy’s younger brother, was cleaning the grill.