“Look how tall you are!” Anna exclaims. “You must be a grown-up lady now, right?”
Maisie giggles. “I’m a little girl.”
With my daughter clinging to her side like a limpet, Anna reaches over the suitcases and hugs me. She smells like sunscreen and a lemony soap that reminds me of Mason. “God, Rachel, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Anna carries Maisie as I walk alongside her, pulling the suitcases.
“When did you get here?” I ask.
“We flew in yesterday.”
“Keane came with you?”
“Yeah,” she says. “I figured if I was going to keep circling the globe with the guy, it might be nice if you and Mom finally got to meet him.”
I sneak a quick glance at her hand to see if there’s an engagement ring there. “Is this your weird way of saying you’re getting married?”
She laughs. “Maybe someday, but for now we’re … us.”
“Auntie Anna.” Maisie touches Anna’s cheek to get her attention. “I have a cat.”
“You do?”
“Her name is Yōkai.”
Anna gives me a quizzical look.
“The cat actually belongs to Mason, my boss,” I explain. “She’s a terror on four legs to everyone but Maisie and we have no idea why. They sleep together every night, and Yōkai waits for her to come home from preschool.”
At the mention of preschool, Maisie launches into a run-on story that begins with school, bounces from Leo to riding the Kelleys Island ferry, and ends with a color-by-color description of the Mexican blanket in Mason’s truck. By the time she finishes, we’ve arrived at Anna’s rental car. I’m touched that she remembered to rent a car seat.
“How’s Mom doing?” I ask as we leave the parking garage.
“I thought she’d be more nostalgic about leaving the house,” Anna says. “But she says it feels like closure. Like, Dad is finally gone.”
“But there are so many good memories attached to that house.”
“You’re right, but she still has us, and we can make new memories no matter where she’s living. And I think that’s where her head is right now.”
“Have you seen the new place in person?” I ask.
“She wanted to wait until you and Maisie got here.”
“God, that’s so sweet.”
“Before we get to the house and the hugging and the kissing and the Maisie-squeezing starts, I just wanted to apologize for … being such a brat,” Anna says. “I know I got on your last nerve so many times after Ben died.”
“Please don’t apologize for that,” I say. “I didn’t understand until I got fired. And I know that doesn’t compare to losing Ben, but it shouldn’t have taken me losing anything to be better at empathy. So, I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Thank you,” she says with a small smile. “Now, tell me about the job.”
“It’s amazing,” I say, and I feel like Maisie, babbling nonstop to Anna about having a hand in designing the hotel and my antique-buying excursions. I tell her about the island and book club. “I’ve even been going to yoga class.”
“How do you like it?”
“I’ve only been a few times, but so far I love it.”
“Mom said you live with your boss.”
“Kind of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maisie and I live on the second floor of Mason’s house, but it’s not an apartment, so we share a kitchen,” I say. “He’s at the brewery practically day and night, and we hardly ever see him at the house. It’s almost like having our own place.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s—” I drop my voice to a whisper so Maisie won’t overhear. “God, Anna, he’s so fucking hot.”
She bursts into laughter. “Rachel! You can’t say something like that when we’re on 595 in a rental car!”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” I say. “And I can’t confide in anyone on the island because it would get back to him in about four and a half seconds.”
I pick up my phone and scroll through my camera roll until I find the photo I took of Mason for the website. He grumbled the entire time about wanting to stay behind the scenes, but when he smiled at the last second, I nearly dropped my phone.
I show Anna, who glances quickly. “Okay, I totally see what you mean. We definitely need to revisit this conversation over beers.”
“Agreed.”
“So, what’s the story with Brian?”
“He’s video-chatted with Maisie three times since we’ve been in Ohio, but he won’t talk to me,” I say. “He’s supposed to come for cake tomorrow and then take her home with him for the night. Fingers crossed.”
Anna takes the exit toward our old house and when we finally pull in the driveway, I notice the differences. The yard we never had time to beautify is spruced up with cocoplum shrubs and hot-pink penta flowers. The old painted house numbers have been replaced with modern-looking copper numbers. It looks like exactly what it is—a house in transition to a new owner—and I feel a little pang of sadness. Until Mom bursts out the front door and pulls me into the tightest hug. The kind of hug I’ve been missing. She kisses both of my cheeks and smooths back my hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, Mom.”
She gives me another quick hug, then practically dives into the back seat to liberate Maisie. As I open the trunk, Keane comes out of the house. I recognize him from the pictures Anna texted me over the winter, but he’s taller than I imagined. Almost a foot taller than her. And I thought he was scruffy from being at sea, but even here on dry land his hair looks like it doesn’t meet a comb on the regular. He’s hot enough to pull it off, though. He goes to Anna first, draping his arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss on the top of her head, as if they’ve been apart too long. He extends his other hand to me. “You must be Rachel. I’m Keane.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He nods. “Likewise.”
It’s hard not to compare Keane to Mason, with his neat black hair and leaner build. Mason is taller than I am by a handful of inches, but not as towering as Keane. Mason is almost a decade older than Keane as well, and there’s something reassuring about the subtle age lines at the corners of Mason’s dark eyes. But more than the way he looks, being around Mason calms me in a way I’ve never experienced. Only now do I realize how chaotic and stressed out Brian made me feel.
“Let me take those bags,” Keane says, scooping up the suitcases and carrying them into the house. Although I’m clearly partial to Mason Brown, Keane gets bonus points for the Irish accent. If I were Anna, I’d be under that all the damn time.
Anna and I follow Keane inside, and behind us comes Mom, with Maisie on her hip, listening intently to a revised version of the story she told Anna at the airport.
My heart is full.
* * *
We spend the next couple of hours sifting through memories as we start packing Mom’s possessions into moving boxes. Mom and I frequently pause on items, considering the sentimental implications of getting rid of them, until Anna steps in like the tough-love guy on HGTV makeover shows.