“Sorry it took me so long to find it,” Daanis said.
I hugged the book to my chest like a talisman. “Are you kidding? This is great.”
Because she had held on to it for all these years. Because she’d gone to the trouble to find it. Because our friendship mattered. Maybe she didn’t cling to Anne’s story the way I did, but she recognized what it meant to me.
I lunged at her, all my messy emotions finding release in another hug. When I let her go, her eyes were wet, too.
“Hailey!” I whirled, waving the book above my head. “Look what Daanis brought!”
—
I was sittingon a boulder at the water’s edge, surrounded by people I loved, a tipsy crown of honeysuckle trailing down my hair, a smudge of chocolate on my skirt from Rose’s stickyhands. Daanis was playing with Rose, putting plastic spoons in a cup and taking them out again. Zoe tucked a flower into Beverly’s hair, bringing a blush to her wife’s plain face.
I missed my dad. I squeezed my eyes shut, absorbing the sound of water sloshing against the rocks and my mother’s voice floating on the air.
I could almost feel him, his love carried on the breeze, enveloping as the sun. I let myself bask in it, acceptance washing over me in waves. In this place, in this breath of time, I belonged. Free to make friends. Free to be myself, mistakes and all. Not grieving or guessing, not worrying about the future or sticking to some plan, but simply living in the moment.
When I opened my eyes, Joe was standing on the boardwalk, watching me.
My heart thrummed. “What brings you here?”
He held up a fan of pink napkins. “Mom said you were running low.”
“Oh.” Warmth washed my cheeks like sunburn. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I wanted to check things out anyway. Since I wasn’t invited,” he said, straight-faced.
I scoffed and stood. “Like you were dying to come to a tea party with your little sister.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” His gaze narrowed on my face. “What?”
“I’m picturing you drinking tea with a bunch of dolls,” I said honestly.
And remembering the Super Bowl party with my housemates in Chicago, where we’d posed assorted stuffed mascots with bottles of beer and took pictures of them looking “drunk.” I winced. Sarah hadnotbeen happy when that got out on social media.
Joe’s mouth quirked. “Hey, not only dolls. Woody was there. And Pooh Bear.”
My breath tangled. I could see Joe, his long legs folded on a little chair, patiently playing pretend with his kid sister. My heart melted.
Hailey bounced over. “Hey, bro.”
“Hi, Joe,” Liv said, twirling her hair in the way of teenage girls everywhere. “Want a cookie?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“How about a drink?” I offered.
“We have strawberry lemonade or raspberry iced tea,” Hailey informed him. “I wanted currant wine, like in the book? But Anne—our Anne, not book Anne—said no alcohol.”
Our Anne.I felt a starburst of pleasure at the nickname.
“Iced tea is fine,” Joe said.
I poured his tea, ignoring the quick, interested glance from his mother.
“When you finish that, you can haul some of this home,” Nicole said.
“Sure.”
