Graceland

Dedication For Paul—my copilot, my compass Epigraphs We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. —John Steinbeck Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a while, but it ain’t goin’ away. —Elvis Presley Contents Cover Title Page Dedication Epigraphs Contents Boston, MA Chapter 1: Hope Fairfield, CT, to Harrisburg, PA Chapter 2: Dylan Chapter 3: Olivia Chapter 4: Hope Chapter 5: Dylan Chapter 6: Hope Chapter 7: Olivia Chapter 8: Hope Chapter 9: Dylan Roanoke, VA Chapter 10: Hope Chapter 11: Olivia Chapter 12: Hope Chapter 13: Dylan Chapter 14: Hope Chapter 15: Dylan Chapter 16: Hope Chapter 17: Olivia Knoxville, TN, to Nashville, TN Chapter 18: Hope Chapter 19: Dylan Chapter 20: Olivia Chapter 21: Hope Memphis, TN Chapter 22: Olivia Chapter 23: Hope Chapter 24: Dylan Chapter 25: Hope Chapter 26: Olivia Chapter 27: Hope Chapter 28: Dylan Chapter 29: Hope Chapter 30: Olivia Chapter 31: Hope Chapter 32: Dylan Chapter 33: Hope Graceland Chapter 34: Olivia Chapter 35: Hope Chapter 36: Dylan Chapter 37: Hope Chapter 38: Dylan Chapter 39: Hope Acknowledgments About the Author Praise for Graceland Copyright About the Publisher vi vii ix x xi 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 Boston, MA Chapter 1Hope Two days before my mother and daughter disappeared, my mother did something entirely out of character. She asked for my help. She took her time, of course. Say what you want about my mother, the woman won’t be rushed. Even after I’d rinsed our lunch plates and tucked the leftover pad thai into her fridge, she refused to explain the message she’d left at my office saying she needed to see me urgently. It wasn’t until I’d sunk deep into her overstuffed sofa, and she’d handed me a sloshing cup of tea, that I fully appreciated her genius. My only escape would be to sip my way out. Finally, though, she seemed to be coming to the point. I could tell because she’d moved to the window. My mother never plays a scene without using light and shadow to her advantage. If you Google old episodes of The Light Within, you’ll notice how before delivering a key line, she lifts her chin and cocks her head toward the light. For years, my father and I debated whether her movement was instinctive or if she blocked it out in advance. Either way, whenever Olivia Grant is about to deliver a showstopping line, a window is invariably to her right. And so, with her signature chin lift and head tilt, my mother shared what was so urgent. “Before I die,” she said, “I want to see Graceland again.” I didn’t mean to snort. Never in my forty years had I made fun of my mother’s obsession with Elvis—at least not to her face. She’d simply caught me off-balance, and I laughed to cover my panic. Graceland? Graceland for God’s sake? Just the thought of Memphis made my stomach churn. Leave it to my mother to ask for the one thing I absolutely couldn’t do. “Which part do you find amusing, Hope?” she asked. “Graceland? Or my dying?” “Mom,” I said, determined to steer the conversation away from Memphis, “you’re not dying.” She turned and, as if on cue, the green tube connected to her oxygen dispenser caught on the edge of the coffee table, yanking the cannula from her face. I had to give her points for that one. Effective use of props. “We’re all dying,” she said, repositioning the prongs under each nostril. “I’m just doing it faster than the average seventy-nine-year-old.” With the afternoon sun backlighting her profile, my mother