“Paolo,” Chelsea said.
“Paolo. Captiva. The inn. All of it.” Maggie took a sip of her coffee. “If Daniel hadn't asked for a divorce, I would still be here. Still trying to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect everything. I would have spent my whole life in a marriage that was hollow at its core, and I never would have known what real love felt like.”
“That's a remarkably healthy perspective.”
“It took a lot of therapy to get here.”
“Therapy and time.”
“And friends.” Maggie looked at Chelsea, at this woman who had been by her side through everything, the discovery of Daniel's affairs, the divorce, the move to Captiva, the building of a new life from the ashes of the old. “I couldn't have done any of it without you, Chelsea. You know that, right?”
Chelsea waved her hand dismissively. “You would have been fine.”
“I wouldn't have. I would have fallen apart and stayed fallen apart. You held me together. You reminded me who I was when I forgot. You made me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry.” Maggie reached over and took her friend's hand. “I love you. I don't say that enough, but I do. You're not only my friend. You're family.”
Chelsea's eyes were suspiciously bright. “Well, now you're going to make me cry, and I just put on mascara.”
“You put on mascara at five in the morning?”
“I put on mascara every morning. It's called having standards.”
They laughed together, the sound carrying across the quiet yard, and Maggie felt something loosen in her chest. The goodbye she had been dreading wasn't as hard as she had feared. Not because the memories didn't matter, but because she had learned to hold them lightly, to honor the past without being imprisoned by it.
“Rachel's reunion,” Chelsea said suddenly. “The Lunch Bunch. It's in July?”
“That's what she said. At her vineyard.”
“We should definitely go..” Chelsea squeezed Maggie's hand. “It will be good to catch up with our friends.”
The back door opened, and Grandma Sarah appeared, wrapped in a robe that had seen better days and wearing slippers that looked older than some of Maggie's children.
“There you are,” she said. “Did I hear right, are you talking to woodchucks?”
Maggie and Chelsea exchanged a glance and burst out laughing.
“Inside joke,” Maggie managed. “I'll explain later.”
“Please don't. I've reached the age where I don't need to understand everything.” Grandma Sarah eyed the sunrise, then the coffee cups, then her daughter's face. “You okay?”
“I'm okay, Mom. Really.”
“You were talking to the yard when I looked out the window.”
“I was saying goodbye.”
Grandma Sarah nodded slowly, as if this made perfect sense. “Good. That's good. You need to say goodbye properly, or it follows you.” She turned to go back inside, then paused. “I'm making breakfast. Real breakfast. Eggs and bacon and toast. Youtwo have fifteen minutes to finish your feelings, and then I expect you in the kitchen ready to eat.”
She disappeared inside, and Maggie smiled.
“Your mother is a force of nature,” Chelsea said.
“She always has been, and I love knowing that there are some things I can count on. My mother’s attitude is one of them.” Maggie stood and offered her hand to help Chelsea up. “Come on. We've got fifteen minutes, and I don't want to face the consequences of being late for her breakfast.”
“Are there consequences?”
“You don't want to know.”
They walked back into the house together, leaving the sunrise and the dormant garden and the woodchuck hole behind. There was still work to do, boxes to pack, memories to sort, a whole life to fold up and put away.
