“Worried,” Beth said. “Doing a great job of pretending he’s not. Thomas is helping him and James in the workshop and he’s been great with the orchard work. Willow’s planning to train the twins as soon as they can walk. She says we need more farm workers.”
“She’s not wrong,” Maggie said. “Tell her I said she’s in charge of the training program.”
“I will,” Beth said. There was a pause, then Beth added in a softer voice,
“Mom,” Beth said, “are you really ready to let it go?”
The question sat between them like something fragile.
“Yes,” Maggie said finally. “I’m ready. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It just means I’m not going to cling to a life that doesn’t fit us anymore. All of us have moved on. It’s time.”
“It’s funny,” Beth said quietly. “I still feel like the house is still mine sometimes.”
“It is,” Maggie said. “In the ways that matter. The memories are yours. But the mortgage and the frozen pipes and the property taxes don’t need to be ours anymore.”
Beth laughed faintly. “Good point.”
“I’m proud of you,” Maggie added. “For the life you’ve made there. For that farm and the orchard and the way you and Gabriel have taken something old and tired and turned it into something new. It helps me, you know.”
“Helps you how?” Beth asked.
“To remember that letting go of one home doesn’t mean there isn’t another one waiting,” Maggie said. “You’re proof of that.”
There was another little pause. When Beth spoke again, her voice was softer. “Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“When you come up, can you bring that photo album with the pictures from my kindergarten year? The one you took to Captiva with you by accident.”
Maggie smiled. “It wasn’t an accident. I wasn’t ready to let go of all of you back then. I needed something to look at when I started to doubt myself.”
“Do you still?” Beth asked.
“Sometimes,” Maggie admitted. “But less than I used to.”
“Maybe we can make copies. I don’t want to lose them.”
“We won’t lose them sweetie,” Maggie said. “But yes. I’ll bring it.”
They said their goodbyes, and Maggie ended the call, standing for a moment with the phone still in her hand.
Late March, she thought. Babies. Boxes. One house saying goodbye and another waiting to be found for Christopher and Becca. So much change stacked up in such a small stretch of time.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and returned to the kitchen. Paolo looked up from the herbs he was arranging.
“How’s Beth?” he asked.
“Tired,” Maggie said. “Brave. Holding more than she admits.”
“Sounds familiar,” he said.
She gave him a look that was half warning, half amusement. “Don’t start.”
He held up his hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
Maggie looked around the room. “Where’s the tray?”
Paolo laughed. “Did you really think I can’t handle bringing in a tray of food for our guests?”
