The moon tracks across the sky outside the window. And sometime in the middle of the night, somewhere between one breath and the next, Susan Midnight lets go.
But not before squeezing my hand one last time.
The morning light filters weakly through the small window above the kitchen sink. I’ve been sitting at the tiny table in the shared kitchen since dawn, unable to sleep after Patricia left. My second cup of coffee is starting to go cold in my hands, but I keep holding it anyway, staring out at the fog rolling off the Sound. My other hand rests on Laila’s head. The golden retriever sits pressed against my leg, leaning her whole weight into me like she’s trying to absorb my grief or share her own.
Patricia handled the calls to Susan’s sons last night. Dominic, Theo, and Alex had left two days earlier for their annual fishing trip because Susan had seemed stable. No one expected the sudden turn. Calvin was in Seattle. Jack was God knows where. None of them made it back in time.
I’m technically just the tenant, but Susan asked Patricia to call me first. “Family comes in all forms,” she’d said last week, still herself for a precious moment. I don’t mind most of Susan’s sons, but selfishly I’m glad I got to be with her alone at the end.
Susan’s door is just steps away through the shared hallway that connects my cabin to hers. I can’t bring myself to look at it, so I stare into my coffee instead, trying to figure out what comes next. Everything feels different now, like the walls know she’s gone. The kitchen feels too quiet without her classical music drifting through.
Right on time, I hear Theo’s Subaru pull up outside the cabins. Laila’s ears perk up from where she’s been pressed against my leg. I walk to my door and open it just as Theo, Susan’s middle son, gets his daughter out of her car seat. He’s tall like all the Midnight boys, but softer somehow, wearing jeans and a Harbor & Ash hoodie that’s seen better days.
Chloe, his five-year-old, immediately wriggles free and runs to Laila on the porch. “We’re here for Laila!” she announces, dropping to her knees to hug the golden retriever, who accepts the attention with patient grace.
Theo’s eyes are red-rimmed as he approaches. He watches his daughter with the dog for a moment before looking at me. There’s nothing to say about Susan that we don’t already know, so we just nod at each other. That specific understanding between people carrying the same loss.
“We came back from the lake the minute Patricia reached us. Drove all night.” He lets out a long breath. “Thanks again for this. For everything. Chloe’s been asking about Laila since I picked her up this morning. I think she needs to see that some things are still the same. Laila’s still here, even if grandma isn’t.”
“Of course,” I say. “Laila needs it too.” I watch Laila lean into Chloe’s embrace, tail wagging.
“You sure you’re okay keeping her?” Theo asks quietly. “I could try to work something out.”
“No, you said yourself you can’t manage a dog right now. And I want to. If that’s okay with you guys.”
He nods, pushing a hand through his light brown hair. “Yeah, that’d be great. We’ll share duty. On your longer bar shifts, I’ll pick her up. Chloe will love that, right sweetheart?”
“Can we teach her new tricks?” Chloe asks, still buried in golden fur.
“All the tricks you want.” Theo gently guides his daughter toward the car. “Come on, Laila’s coming with us for the day.”
Laila looks back at me once before following Chloe to theSubaru. I watch them drive away, the golden retriever’s head visible in the back window next to Chloe’s car seat, and wave until they turn the corner.
Back in the shared kitchen, my coffee has gone completely cold. I dump it in the sink and lean against the counter.
I sigh. I can’t sit here all morning staring at nothing. The bar needs me. Or maybeIneedit, need the work and the routine and the familiar chaos.
I pull out my phone and send a text to Lark.
Maren:She’s gone. Peaceful at the end. I’ll be in this afternoon.
Her response is immediate.
Lark:Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Take time off. We’ve got this.
Maren:No. I need to stay busy. Better to be around people than sit here alone.
There’s a pause. Those three dots appear and disappear a few times.
Lark:You sure?
Maren:Yeah. See you at 2.
I don’t know what to do with myself until then. I try to read, but can’t focus. Try to eat, but have zero appetite. Finally I just give up and head in early.
The Black Lantern is quiet when I arrive. I move through opening duties—chairs down, register counted, garnishes prepped. My hands know what to do, and today that’s a blessing.
Lark arrives at 2 PM sharp with a paper bag from the deli down the street. She sets it on the bar, walks straight over, and pulls me into a fierce hug. “She was lucky to have you,” she whispers. “And you were lucky to have her.”
