Page 8 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

The trouble was, now her mother had gone and died, and Mariah couldn’t ask her.

She grabbed the other files and opened them one by one. A single page of contact information—maybe fifteen names, more than half in Mumbai, the rest in London, Paris, and one in Marrakech. Another list of names, which looked to be restaurants or cafés. A chronology of dates labeled “Parsi History” and a printed flyer from a restaurant called Dishoom in London with more of the same art deco detailing.

Intriguing. She wondered what her mother was doing with it. “Too bad,” Mariah said aloud. She wanted, suddenly, to know what her mom had been thinking. What had been her last book project? Rachel had written seven highly popular food books—not cookbooks, although they had recipes, but stories told around food of various kinds. Her most popular had been one grouped around the stories of spices in various cuisines,Spice Roads.

Was this the project she’d been planning to undertake next? Mariah had called Jill to ask more about it, and that was how the whole project came to be.

Mariah would trace the steps of her mother’s last project, and Jill would go with her. It would be a chance for both of them to heal and honor the woman they missed so much.

Chapter Five

Veronica texted her daughter on Sunday afternoon.

Got a minute?

Yes

Her phone rang, and there was Jenna on FaceTime, her hair yanked into a tight, high ponytail, her nose ring catching the light. “Hi. I stopped by Friday, but you weren’t there.”

“I had a job interview, actually.”

Jenna carried the phone somewhere into the kitchen she shared with three roommates. “That’s awesome. I know you’ve been looking. Did you get it?”

“I did. That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be a research assistant for a woman who is digging into café culture.”

Jenna propped her phone up on a windowsill as she took down a cup and poured coffee from a pitcher of cold brew in the fridge. “That sounds great. Right up your alley, for sure.”

“The thing is,” Veronica interjected before Jenna could move on to the more exciting things in the world, like her own interests, “I’m leaving for three or four weeks, and I need you to water my plants once a week.”

“Wait. Where are you going?” She paused. “You’re not actually going to India? I thought you were just trying to save face.”

“Wow, thanks,” Veronica said. Although it was true, she still wanted to save face. “Not only India. London, Paris, Morocco.”

“Someone’spayingyou to do that?”

“I know. I’m so thrilled.”

“Mom. Are you sure it’s not a scam?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “It’s not a scam.” But suddenly, she worried that it was. Could this just be some elaborate setup to, what? Give her minimum wage? She was a bit long in the tooth to be trafficked, although she supposed it happened. Maybe she should—

Stop it.Just in case, she’d go over the paperwork carefully. And honestly, if she got stranded somewhere, she’d just use her credit card to get home.

In the meantime, she said to her daughter, “She has some mobility problems and needs help with bags and that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I get it.” She nodded. “Like a companion?”

“I think that’s the main part of the job, honestly. Will you water the plants?”

“Of course.”

“Once a week. Put it on your calendar. I’ve had some of these since you were a baby.”

“I promise.” The information seemed to settle. “Do you think you’re up to such a big trip?”

As if she were a hundred, not fifty. “I’ll be fine.”

“What if I need you?”