An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(61)

Third: something was missing in her life, even if she wasn’t sure what, but she knew there was only one place to go if she wanted to find it.

Still—there were so many memories in the house she’d shared with Art and their children. There’d been great times, joyful times. Their first days, the rooms empty because they had so little to bring with them. The fun of finding just the right—everything. She remembered where they’d bought every piece of furniture, some banged-up rejects they’d taught themselves to refinish, some precious antiques they’d saved for. They’d brought their babies home from the hospital to that house (Art liked to tell the story of how Natalie’d been so eager to be born they’d barely made it to the hospital). There had been festivities of every kind under that roof: birthday, anniversary, Christmas, New Year’s Eve, graduation, Grace’s engagement party. They’d marked their girls’ growth on the pantry wall—even when the kitchen was renovated, they’d instructed the painters to paint around the chart. Maggie had walked the floors here, holding a sick baby while she prayed for a fever to go down, and, years later, when one or both girls had missed their curfew. Their daughters’ first dates had nervously rung their doorbell and stood in the foyer holding thin bouquets of limp flowers. They’d made their way down the wide staircase in prom gowns, and Grace had descended the wide staircase in a white wedding gown that had made her look like a princess.

And there’d been some not-so-joyful times as well. Maggie knew that, but Art’s sickness and his passing here had blotted out everything else. She still found it painful to walk into the guest room, where his hospital bed had been set up, his choice because, he’d said, he’d wanted to look out into the trees and watch the birds. Maggie suspected the real reason was that he’d wanted her to be able to sleep without waking every time he coughed or moved. He’d said he wanted to pass quietly, watching the sun rise over the rose bower in the backyard, with Maggie holding his hand, and that was exactly what he’d done.

Maggie had walked through the house, room to room, remembering all those little moments that made up a life, savoring some more than others. When she was certain her decision was final and there’d be no change of heart, she called the Realtor in Wyndham Beach. Then she called Natalie and asked her to get a babysitter for Saturday afternoon and come to the house. Grace was still there, having gone home once over the past week and found notes from several reporters from local TV stations taped to her front door.

“Mom”—Grace had called from her house—“would it be okay if I stayed with you for a bit longer? Just until I decide on my next move.”

“Of course. I love your company.” Maggie had expected the call, had hoped Grace wouldn’t go back to her house, where she’d probably lock herself in and try to disappear for a while. It wasn’t healthy, and it wasn’t necessary. Grace hadn’t done anything to deserve the negative attention she’d been getting. At least at Maggie’s there was someone to talk to and someone to make sure she ate something healthy at least once a day, because a mom never stopped being a mom.

Besides, Maggie had a few thoughts on what Grace’s next move might be. She was hoping to be able to steer her in that direction.



“So what’s going on, Mom?” Natalie had come into the kitchen around one on Saturday afternoon, an hour earlier than Maggie had expected her.

“Oh, you’re early. That’s fine. Grace is upstairs. Will you call her for me? I just have to put some coffee on.” Maggie suspected before the day was over—and depending on how her plan was received—wine would be more appropriate, but for now, coffee would serve just fine.

“Where do you want us?” Grace came into the kitchen, followed by her sister.

“I think in here is fine.” Maggie pointed to the alcove with the built-in banquette and the harvest table she and Art had found at a barn sale five years ago. It had languished in the basement until the kitchen renovation had been completed. With its plush bench cushions and view of the bird feeders hanging from shepherd’s hooks on the deck, the cozy nook was one of Maggie’s favorite places.

Maggie poured coffee, placed cream and sugar on the table along with a plate of brownies she’d made the night before.

“Must be serious.” Natalie selected a brownie and placed it on a napkin she retrieved from its holder. “Mom’s bringing out the chocolate.”

“It is serious. But before I tell you why I wanted us to get together, I just want to say how much I love you both.”

“We love you, too, Mom.” Grace helped herself to a brownie, immediately biting into it. “Yum.”

“Mom, you’re not sick, are you?” Natalie gripped the edge of the table anxiously.

“No, no. I just want you to remember that and know that whatever decisions I’ve made over the past week, I’ve made with the best interests of this family in mind.”

Grace and Natalie exchanged a questioning look.

“You already told us you’re selling the firm to George,” Natalie said. “And we’re fine with that.”

“What I didn’t tell you is that I’ve decided to sell the house as well.” There. She’d put it out there. Maggie studied the expressions on both daughters’ faces.

Natalie frowned. “What house?”