No Judgments: A Novel (Little Bridge Island Book 1)

Bottled water and MREs are being provided by FEMA in the Publix parking lot on a rotating schedule. Both are available from 7 A.M.—9 A.M., 11 A.M.—1 P.M., and 5 P.M. to 7 P.M. This schedule is subject to change.

Oh my God.” I froze in my tracks.

My mother was wearing a flight suit. Literally, a gray flight suit like the kind astronauts wear. Only hers was silk and probably Armani.

“Sabrina, sweetheart!”

My mother flung her arms around me.

She was soft and smelled as she always did, of Chanel No. 5. Being hugged by my mother triggered something deep inside me, a memory I hadn’t thought of in a long, long time. It took me a few seconds to realize what that memory was, and then, like a lightning bolt, it hit me: home.

But it was also so strange to see my mother on Little Bridge Island. She looked so out of place, with her pale blond blowout and her manicure and her carefully made-up face. Not to mention the flight suit.

I wasn’t sure, after the incident not ten minutes earlier with Caleb and Kyle, how many more out-of-town visitors I could take.

“Sweetheart, I was so worried about you. Are you all right?” She pulled back to look at me, allowing me to steal a glance at Drew. He was trying not to laugh over by the gumbo-limbo. I could have killed him. “Oh, sweetheart. Your hair. It’s so . . . bright.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I said from between gritted teeth. “What are you doing here? And what are you wearing?”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, taking my hand. Her skin felt cool because she’d been inside with the air-conditioning for so long. “You’ll never believe it. Your uncle Steen got us a cargo plane. Because you know they weren’t going to let us land the jet here, because this place has been declared a national disaster zone by the governor. So we had to bring recovery supplies. But don’t you worry, we brought plenty of things for your new little friends, plenty of good, healthy things, like bottled water and fresh vegetables and diapers and some of those things, what are they called—”

“MREs.”

She’d pulled me inside now, into the living room, where her lawyer, Steen, dressed in a business suit, was sitting on the couch with a satellite phone in his hand.

“Meals Ready to Eat,” he elaborated, with a brief smile at me. “Hello, Sabrina.”

“Um, hi.” I really could not deal with seeing so many people from my New York world in my Little Bridge world in one day. Not on this day, of all days, when I was so happy because of Drew. It wasn’t fair.

Even worse, there was another person, a stranger they appeared to have dragged with them, sitting on the other end of the couch. She was a small woman in her early fifties with a severe blond pixie cut who was at least wearing more sensible clothes—khaki shorts with a collared shirt and no-nonsense boots like mine—than either my mother or Steen.

She was sipping a cup of coffee that Mrs. Hartwell, standing nervously in the corner, had apparently poured for her, while staring owlishly at the rest of us through somewhat thick glasses, probably wondering how on earth she’d gotten herself into this mess. Since she was holding a blissfully purring Gary on her lap, I assumed that she was at least somewhat happy, because no one could hold a purring Gary on their lap and not feel happy.

Still, I pitied her, whoever she was, for having been sucked into this mess.

And not just her—poor Mrs. Hartwell, as well. This was the last thing that poor lady needed, to have to entertain Judge Justine while also recovering from a hurricane. The least I could do was try to hurry along her visit.

“Mom,” I said. “Thanks so much. I’m sure everyone appreciates it. But where exactly—”

“Oh, I gave it all to that sheriff down at the airport when we landed,” my mother said breezily, not allowing me to finish my question. “He said they’re going to start handing it out this afternoon in the parking lot of some grocery store.”

“That’s right.” Mrs. Hartwell pointed uneasily to Ed’s radio, which was sitting on the coffee table. “They said this morning on Head and the Toad Licker that they’d be starting food giveaways in the parking lot of the Publix at three this afternoon for anyone in need.”

“And not only food for humans.” My mom looked inordinately proud of herself. “Pet food, too, Sabrina, thanks to this lady, here.” She pointed at the shy woman on the couch holding Gary on her lap. “Do you know who this woman is?”

Obviously, I had no idea. “Um, no, Mom.”

“This,” my mother said, proudly, “is your biological mother, Sabrina. Dr. Iris Svenson!”