Life and Other Inconveniences(132)

“She’d be glad you and Miller are together,” Riley said.

“You think?”

“Sure. Who better? Except you inherit Tess.”

“I love Tess.”

“Me too. Glad I’ll be in college before you guys move in together, though.”

“Who said we’re moving in together?”

“Oh, Mom. You always need someone to take care of. Of course you’ll move in. Probably get married.”

I didn’t argue. Maybe I would. Not for a while, though. Next year, my baby would be in college, and I didn’t want to rush off to try to fill the hole in my life. I loved Tess, and I loved Miller, but there was no need to hurry.

My daughter and I walked hand in hand down to the dock and sat. There was no moon, and the stars shone brilliant and sharp. The wood of the dock creaked gently, and a loon called far away.

“It was nice to live in a mansion,” Riley said.

“Sorry you have to move.”

She laughed. “It was fun while it lasted. And I have this as a souvenir.” She picked up the chain she now wore around her neck. On it was Genevieve’s engagement ring, the one thing my grandmother had bargained to keep so that she could leave it to the great-granddaughter she loved.

It was worth an obscene amount of money—probably enough for at least two years of college, maybe more. But I knew my daughter would never sell it. I wouldn’t want her to.

“She was great, wasn’t she?” Riley said.

“She was. She was strong. She lived through a lot of heartbreak, but she always did what she had to do, and she did it as best she could. And her best was usually pretty great.”

Riley was quiet for a moment. “Are you still afraid I’ll be like your mom?”

I looked at her sharply.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “It’s okay if we talk about it.”

My wise daughter. I took a slow breath and lay back on the deck. Riley did, too, snuggling her head against my shoulder, that old familiar feeling of my sweet daughter fitting against me. The best feeling in the world.

“My mother was a great woman, too,” I said. “She was all love. You get that from her. And the red hair. But you have Genevieve in you, too. Total badass.”

“True,” Riley said, and I laughed.

“You forgot the best part of me,” Riley said.

“What’s that?”

“You, Mama.”

She didn’t even mind when I started to cry. But instead of blurring the stars, my tears made them brighter, shining with such beauty, such generosity, such benevolence, that a person just couldn’t ask for more.