“I have to admit, I haven’t even started. Avoiding it, I guess. Just wanted to get settled in first.” She squared her shoulders. “But I’m going to start into it tomorrow. And I should probably head in. It’s getting dark.”
He walked her to the steps to her deck. “Good night, then. And my offer stands. I can help if you need me.” He paused. “Or… if you just need someone to talk to.”
“Thank you. Good night.” She climbed the stairs and stood on the deck, taking one last look at the water stretching before her. A slice of moonlight illuminated the waves. She glanced over toward Randy’s cottage, where warm light spilled out from his windows. It was nice to know someone here on the island. It made her feel not quite so alone.
Randy stood in his kitchen drinking a large glass of ice water, looking out the window toward Miss G’s cottage. Well, he guessed it was Evie’s cottage now if she decided to keep it.
The look in Evie’s eyes when she talked about her grandmother… so much pain. But then, he remembered that pain from when his own grandmother passed away. A hole in his heart that he thought he’d never get over. The pain lessened over the years but never fully went away.
To be honest, he felt Miss G’s passing almost as much as he had his own grandmother’s. He’d moved into the cottage next to hers after a nasty divorce where his wife had just up and left him but wanted everything in the divorce settlement.
He’d known Miss G from living here on the island, of course. Everyone knew everybody. But he’d gotten close to her after moving next door. She’d found him one day sitting on the beach right after he moved in, wallowing in the shock and pain of his divorce and the sense of betrayal. Miss G had sat silently beside him for a bit, then reached out and took his hand. “It’s hard to lose someone, no matter the circumstances. It upends your life with changes. But you’re going to be okay. I promise. It does get easier.”
And that had started their friendship. He fixed things at her cottage for her and she brought food over to him often, claiming she’d made too much for just herself. They often sat and watched the sunsets together. And he couldn’t even count how many glasses of sweet tea he’d had sitting over on her porch.
Fate had thrown them together, and an unexpected and much-appreciated friendship had grown between them. Hecherished the memories of their time together and felt a loss with her gone, no longer able to just pop in and see her.
Evie must be feeling that loss just as acutely. And he’d had two chance meetings with Evie today. First at the market and then on the beach tonight. What were the chances? He wouldn’t put it past Miss G if she were orchestrating this from beyond. Making sure someone was there checking on her granddaughter, knowing he would understand what she was going through.
He’d do just that for Miss G. Check on Evie. Reiterate his offer to help her go through her grandmother’s things. It’s the least he could do after all that Miss G had done for him.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Evie made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly across the worn wooden floors. She ran her hand along the familiar countertop, feeling the smooth surface beneath her fingertips. The kitchen looked just as she remembered it from her childhood summers—the cheerful yellow curtains, the collection of mismatched mugs, the old teal wall clock. She was surprised to see that Nana had replaced the old percolator she had used every morning without fail. In its place was a shiny, stainless-steel drip coffee maker.
She hunted around until she found the filters and filled the coffeemaker with water and coffee grounds. As the coffee brewed, she breathed in the rich aroma that filled the kitchen, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the memories it evoked.
Cup in hand, she stepped out onto the porch and settled into one of the weathered rocking chairs. She sipped her coffee slowly, watching the morning unfold on the island. A few early risers strolled along the beach, their dogs trotting beside them. In the distance, she could see a boat heading out for a day of fishing.
The scene before her stirred up memories of countless mornings spent here with her grandmother. They would sit sideby side, Nana telling stories of the island’s history or sharing wisdom gleaned from her years of living by the sea. Her grandmother had moved to the island when she married Evie’s grandfather. He’d died when Evie was young, so she barely remembered him. All the trips to the island she remembered were just her and Nana. Her own parents always seemed grateful to ship her off to the island for the summer, busy with their jobs and life.
Finishing her coffee, Evie took a deep breath and stood up. It was time to face the task she’d avoided since her arrival—sorting through her grandmother’s belongings. She headed back inside, pausing in the hallway to look at the family photos that lined the walls. There was one of her as a little girl, building a sandcastle with Nana. Another showed her parents on their wedding day with a young Genevieve beaming proudly beside them.
She trudged into the living room with slow steps. She stood in the center of the room for a moment, taking in the familiar surroundings. Her grandmother’s presence lingered in every corner—in the handmade knitted throw draped over the back of the sofa, in the collection of seashells arranged on the mantel, and in the faint scent of lavender that still hung in the air.
With a small sigh, she began her task. She started with the bookshelf, carefully removing each book and deciding whether to keep it or donate it. Some choices were easy—the well-worn copy ofHeidithat Nana had read to her every summer was an immediate keeper. Oh, andLittle Women, the pages wrinkled with time and numerous readings. Others were more difficult, each holding a memory or story that made it hard to part with.
When it became too difficult to keep making decisions about the books, she moved on to Nana’s storage closet. She opened the door and pulled the string and the line of bare lightbulbs popped on, illuminating the shelves lining the walls.
She walked into the closet and reached for a small, dusty box tucked away on one of the shelves. As she pulled it out, she realized it was filled with postcards and letters—the very ones she’d sent to Nana over the years. A lump formed in her throat as she gently lifted the stack of correspondence tied neatly with a faded ribbon. Proof that Nana had treasured every word, every memory Evie had shared with her, preserving them like precious heirlooms.
She carefully untied the ribbon and began to leaf through the postcards and letters. Each one transported her back to a specific moment in time—a childhood summer spent exploring the island, a teenage heartbreak she had confided to Nana, a college triumph she couldn’t wait to share. She marveled at the way her grandmother had lovingly kept these pieces of her life, a record of their bond.
With a bittersweet ache in her chest, she placed the stack of letters back in the box, making a mental note to read through them more thoroughly later. She moved further into the storage closet, past the neatly labeled boxes of Christmas decorations. Nana had always gone all out for the holidays, transforming the cottage into a winter wonderland filled with twinkling lights, garlands, and the scent of freshly baked cookies. That wouldn’t be the way it was this year, she reminded herself.
As she reached the back of the closet, she pushed aside a few boxes to reveal a small wooden box she had never seen before. The lid was adorned with an intricate Christmas design, the carved details worn smooth with age. Curious what treasures her grandmother had hidden away, she carefully lifted the lid.
She held it under the light and peeked inside. The box held an assortment of items, each one wrapped in tissue paper. She settled the lid back on the box and set it by the closet door to take it out later and go through it in better light.
Turning back to the task at hand, she found she just didn’t have it in her to continue. She couldn’t bear to open the Christmas boxes and see the familiar decorations Nana put out each year. The light-up ceramic Christmas tree with its tiny little lights. A set of three carved wooden caroling mice, of all things. A Christmas angel that spun around on a stand while the tones of “Silent Night” filled the cottage. No, she couldn’t go there. Not yet.
She turned, scooped up the wooden box, and resolutely pulled the chain, plunging the closet into darkness. She headed out to the living room and set the box down, looking at the bookshelves. Yet another job she hadn’t finished.
Deciding to give herself a little grace, she decided to take a break. She hadn’t been to the lighthouse since her return. It was one of her favorite places on the island. Nana had totally believed in the town legend that if you stood at Lighthouse Point, made a wish, and threw a shell into the sea, your wish would come true.
But first, she needed a hat—her grandmother was big on wearing hats in the sun and had a huge collection of them. Her grandmother’s closet still smelled of Nana—a mix of lavender and her grandmother’s favorite perfume. She buried her face in Nana’s favorite robe, savoring the scent, remembering how if she ever got sick in the summer, Nana would plop her on the couch and cover her with the robe, insisting it would make her better.
She turned and looked at the shelves filled with hats. With a smile, she pulled out a perky straw hat and placed it on her head. She could almost feel Nana’s approval.
