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escape.
She checked the departure date. “You’re flying to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow night?”
    Dorrie nodded. “I didn’t want to leave before . . . well, you know.”
    “Before you found out whether or not I was going to be indicted for murder.”
    “I was totally confident in the investigation. What kind of mother would I be if I thought they’d find probable cause? But I wanted to be here for you. In fact, you should come with me. What do you say?”
    Sandra felt a flare of interest, but quickly doused it. “You know I have to stay here, Mom. Because of the house.” Forcing a smile, she handed back the brochures. “What an adventure.”
    “I’ve got my passport, my bikini and my Zyban tablets all packed.”
    “Zyban tablets?”
    “A prescription for quitting smoking. I’m going to cruise to a new me, I guess,” her mother said, tucking the ticket away in her purse. “Quitting smoking. That’d be new.”
    “Twelve weeks. That’s a long time. And a lot of money,” Sandra said.
    Her usually frugal mother lifted her shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “It’s an investment in myself. I’m going to take Spanish lessons, learn to play blackjack, dance the macarena, get a new hairstyle, new makeup . . . new everything.” Dorrie lifted her teacup. “To adventure,” she said, touching her cup to Sandra’s.
    “To adventure.”
    Dorrie stood up. “Would you like to take a walk?”
    Sandra sent a knowing look at her mother’s voluminous purse. “I guess you haven’t started the tablets yet.”
    “Exactly.”
    While her mother went outside to light up, Sandra grabbed her jacket from a hook by the mudroom door, jammed on a hat and gloves and hurried out. Dorrie headed north on the lonely gray beach, walking along the uneven wrack line where seaweed and debris flung up by the North Atlantic lay in a thick, untidy chain. In the summer, tourists came out early to scout for unbroken shells and bits of opaque beach glass, tumbled by the waves. In winter, the treasures lay unclaimed by foragers, and the sea would take them back.
    Weathered ridges of sand rippled in motionless waves from the beach. The damp, yielding surface slowed Sandra as it shifted beneath her. Dorrie kept her gaze trained straight ahead at the big craggy point crowned by the lighthouse. The icy wind was making her eyes tear up; the moisture blew back against her temples and dried there, leaving a faint film of salty white.
    “I won’t miss the winter,” Dorrie said, tugging her coat closer around her.
    “I’ll miss
you,”
Sandra said, but quickly added, “This is going to be fabulous. You and Dad must be so excited.”
    “Your father’s not going.”
    Sandra frowned, certain the howl of the wind had made her hear wrong. “Did you just say Dad’s not— “
    Her mother nodded.
    Sandra nearly stumbled over a clump of seaweed. “I can’t believe you’re taking a cruise by yourself.”
    Dorrie gave a strange laugh. “I can’t believe it, either.”
    “Dad didn’t want to go?”
    Her mother hesitated. “After thirty-five years of business travel, he’s not interested. Getting him to go anywhere is like prying a snail off a rock.”
    “You’ve never been away from Dad before.”
    “He’s been away from me.”
    “That was different. It was business. Talk to him, Mom. Convince him to go with you on the cruise. The two of you would have such a great time.”
    “He’s not coming.” Dorrie’s voice was firm but expressionless.
    “How can you be sure he wouldn’t want to? He’s never been fond of traveling, but I bet he’d love— “
    “Sandra, I need to tell you something.” Dorrie stopped walking and found a seat on a pale driftwood log. The black scar of a dead bonfire marred the sand in front of the log, and old beer bottles lay strewn in the salt grass. “Sit down.” She patted the spot beside her. “I’ve been trying to find a way to bring this up, but I’m not doing a very good job.”
    Sandra felt a