“Hey, you can sleep in Link’s room tonight,” Fray says. “I’ve been upgraded.”
Leland kisses Fray’s cheek. “Damn straight.”
Coop laughs and shakes his head. He loves them both. If they’re happy, he’s happy.
After they leave, Coop thinks maybe he will go into Link’s room and lie down—but he stops in front of the bookshelves, which hold not only Mallory’s impressive library but also a bunch of framed photographs. Many of them are of Link growing up and of Mallory and Link together, though there are also some wonderful photos of Mallory and Cooper as children, which Mallory must have taken when they cleared out the house on Deepdene Road after Senior and Kitty were killed.
There’s a shot of Cooper, Mallory, Senior, and Kitty taken during brunch in the Green Room at the Hotel DuPont in Wilmington, Delaware. The Blessings would always go the Saturday after Thanksgiving, because that was the first day the hotel was decorated for Christmas. Kitty used to go to the Green Room with her own parents, so the brunch tradition was very important to her. Coop recalls suffering through it his junior and senior years in high school following the epic Friday-after-Thanksgiving parties he used to attend. That’s definitely the case in this picture—Cooper’s eyes are bloodshot, his hair is uncombed and his tie crooked—but what makes him laugh out loud is Mallory in her kelly-green monogrammed sweater and kilt （a kilt!） and knee socks. She must be fourteen and she’s wearing knee socks.
Tears burn his eyes as he laughs. She was such a nerd! Before she had braces, she used to have buck teeth and Cooper would tease her relentlessly. He also teased her about her adoration of Rick Springfield, her addiction to General Hospital, and the stubborn cowlick in her hair that she would spend the moments before leaving for school fruitlessly trying to tame.
Coop knows that Mallory resented him growing up. Things came easily to him—good grades, sports, charming all the adults in his life so that he got pretty much whatever he wanted. Mallory was shyer, a bit socially awkward; she preferred to stay in her room, lounging on her fuzzy purple beanbag chair, reading. Oh, and she ate saltines with butter. Coop closes his eyes. He hasn’t thought of her saltine and butter addiction in decades.
He picks up another picture where Coop is maybe ten and Mallory eight. It’s Easter. Coop is in a navy blazer, Mallory in a pink dress and headband （buck teeth protruding from her smile）。 They’re standing in front of the fireplace at their grandparents’ house, holding baskets filled with candy. Coop can practically smell his grandfather’s pipe smoke. The next picture he picks up moves him even further back in time. Coop is maybe seven, Mallory five, and they’re wearing the lederhosen that their grandparents brought back from a trip to Munich. This picture is…serious blackmail material. They look ridiculous! Coop laughs until he cries and then he’s bawling like a baby because Mallory was his kid sister and he misses her. He sets the lederhosen picture next to a picture of his Aunt Greta and Uncle Bo, who were the original owners of this cottage. Cooper remembers when Mallory was “sent to Nantucket” for the summer as a kid; he thought she was being punished. Little did he know.
There are no pictures of Mallory with Jake, obviously, since their relationship was like a state secret, and no pictures of Mallory with any other men. Coop wonders then, as he often has, if there was something wrong with him and his sister. Mallory had a child but never married; Coop has been married five times but none of the unions lasted and he never had children. Was it random luck that things ended up that way or had they been defective somehow? Kitty and Senior, although they each had their faults, set a wonderful example. They were devoted and attentive and respectful of each other. Cooper Senior could be impenetrable emotionally but he had a soft spot for his wife. There had always been romance in the house—long-stemmed roses “just because” and evenings spent on the couch in front of the fire, Kitty lying with her head in Senior’s lap. Maybe they set an example that was too hard to live up to.
Cooper thinks of Dr. Robb’s point that he has suffered a lot of loss. It was all weighing on his shoulders now. He missed his family. He would give everything he owned to be back in the Green Room at the Hotel DuPont.
He’s overtired and growing very emotional. He needs a nap. Coop slinks into Link’s room and crashes facedown on the bed.
When Cooper wakes up, the sun is setting in a blaze of pink on the horizon. Link’s room, which has a window onto the beach, is suffused with rose-gold light.