She turned and walked up the stairs to the porch and the backdoor leading to the kitchen and toward coffee and conversation and the man who was waiting for her. Tomorrow would bring planning and packing and the chaos of departure. But this morning, she had given herself permission to simply be. To remember how far she had come. To feel grateful for the life she had built.
Two years cancer-free. A new life on an island she loved. Children who were thriving, grandchildren who were multiplying, and a family that had weathered every storm and emerged stronger on the other side.
She opened the kitchen door and stepped inside. Paolo looked up from the coffee maker and smiled.
“Good walk?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she said. “Absolutely perfect.”
CHAPTER 9
The sun had set over Pine Island Sound, leaving the sky streaked with orange and purple, when Becca finally got Eloise down for the night. The baby had been fussy all evening, teething and cranky, and it had taken three rounds of rocking and two lullabies before her eyes finally drifted closed.
Becca stood over the crib for a long moment, watching her daughter sleep. Eloise lay on her back with her arms flung out, her tiny chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of deep rest. Seven months old. It seemed impossible that this small person had only existed for seven months. She had already become the center of everything, the axis around which Becca and Christopher's entire world revolved.
She slipped out of the guest room and pulled the door almost closed, leaving it cracked just enough that she would hear if Eloise stirred. The baby monitor was clipped to her waistband, but Becca had learned not to trust technology entirely. Some things required a mother's ear.
She found Christopher on the back porch, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs that faced the backyard. The lights fromPowell Water Sports glowed softly to the left, and she could hear the gentle lap of waves against the dock across the street. He had a beer in his hand, untouched, and his prosthetic leg was stretched out in front of him at an angle that meant it was bothering him.
“Long day?” she asked, settling into the chair beside him.
“Long week.” He turned to look at her, and even in the dim light she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. “Long month, actually. I keep thinking about that house.”
“Me too.”
They had not talked about it much since leaving the property two days ago. There had been too many other things demanding their attention. Eloise’s fussiness, calls with the Summit Compass board about the Florida expansion, a video chat with Beth that had left them both simultaneously excited and terrified about the impending arrival of the twins. The house had hovered at the edge of every conversation, unspoken but present, like a question waiting to be asked.
“I made a list,” Christopher said. “Of everything that would need to be done. The kitchen, the bathrooms, the floors, the electrical. It's a lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
“Depends on how much we do ourselves versus hiring out. If we hire contractors for everything, we're looking at six figures easy. If we do some of the work ourselves, get help from family, it could be less. But it's still significant. I’m not sure we can afford it”
Becca pulled her knees up to her chest, a habit from childhood that she had never outgrown. “My residency starts in July. I won't have time to swing a hammer.”
“I know, but I will. And your father has offered to help, and Trevor, and Paolo. Even your brothers mentioned they could pitch in on weekends.”
“When did you talk to my brothers?”
“Luke cornered me at the shop this morning. He said, and I quote, 'That house has good bones. We could make it work.'”
Becca smiled despite herself. Luke was the oldest of her brothers, the one who had taken over most of the day-to-day operations at Powell Water Sports since their father had started stepping back. He was practical and steady, not given to enthusiasm without cause. If Luke thought the house had potential, it probably did.
“What about the money?” she asked. “Even with a lower purchase price, we'd need a significant down payment. And the renovation costs on top of that.”
Christopher was quiet for a moment. He took a sip of his beer, then set it down on the arm of the chair. “I've been running the numbers. Between what we've saved and what Summit Compass can pay me once the Florida branch is operational, we could make it work. It would be tight, but it's doable.”
“Tight makes me nervous.”
“I know. Me too.” He reached over and took her hand. “But I keep thinking about that view. The way it felt standing on that porch, looking out at the water. I haven't felt that way about any of the other houses we've seen.”
Becca hadn't either. She had walked through dozens of properties over the past three months, each one checked against a mental list of requirements. Eloise was years away from school, and Becca already knew living on Captiva would mean her daughter would get her education on Sanibel Island instead. There were enough bedrooms for the family they hoped to grow. A yard for playing, a kitchen for gathering, a neighborhood where children rode bikes and neighbors waved hello. However, none of them had stirred anything in her. They had been houses, nothing more. Structures of wood and drywall that could shelter a family but never become a home.
The fixer-upper on Captiva was different. Despite the water stains and the peeling wallpaper and the kitchen that belonged ina museum, something about it had resonated. The bones, as Luke said. The location. The sense that it was waiting for someone to love it back to life.
“I want to talk to my dad,” Becca said.
Christopher turned to her. “About the house?”
