My Best Friend Said She Was Too Busy For Our Annual Trip—Then The Inn Handed Me Her Forgotten Charger

PART 2

Room twelve smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and old wood.

I set my bag on the bench and took out the charger.

Then I called Ellen.

She answered on the fourth ring.

“You made it?”

“I did.”

“Good. Is it raining?”

“Not yet.”

I looked at the two mugs beside the little coffee machine. Harbor House had changed them since last year. White ceramic now, with blue lighthouses instead of the old green logo.

“Ellen, were you here last weekend?”

Silence.

Not confusion. Not a request to repeat myself.

Silence.

“Nora—”

“The desk clerk handed me your charger.”

Another pause.

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“You said you were helping Diane move.”

“I was helping her Friday morning.”

“And Friday afternoon?”

“I drove up here.”

My hand tightened around the charger.

“With who?”

“Mara.”

I knew Mara Quinn from photos and two birthday dinners. She worked with Ellen. Forty-something, divorced, short dark hair, liked hiking and expensive olive oil. I had never disliked her because I had never had a reason to.

“You took Mara on our trip.”

“I didn’t think of it like that.”

“You stayed in our room.”

“Nora, it is a room in a hotel.”

The sentence hurt because it was true and because I had believed something else.

“Why did you lie?”

Ellen exhaled.

“Because if I told you I didn’t want to do our weekend and then came up here with someone else, you would ask me why until I had an answer that made sense to both of us.”

“Do you have one?”

Her voice went quiet.

“I wanted to come with Mara.”

I waited for the second sentence.

It did not come.

“So you were not too busy,” I said.

“No.”

“You chose a different trip.”

“Yes.”