Anna.
When do we get to meet her properly? I feel like I should be there.
Bea:
I have SO many questions about Australia. Do you really eat Vegemite? Is it as disgusting as it looks?
Bernie:
Tell her I said hello again. Also my knee says rain on Tuesday.
“What are they saying?” Fiona asked.
“They want to meet you. All of them.” Stella typed back quickly.
Dad says give her some space. She just landed yesterday.
Meg.
Family dinner. I’m making risotto AND pasta.
Anna.
Fine. But soon.
Bea.
Tell her the Vegemite question stands.
“They’re very... eager,” Fiona said, watching the phone light up repeatedly.
“They’re a lot.” Tyler glanced in the rearview mirror at Stella. “I’m trying to give you breathing room.”
“Appreciated.”
“Sunday, though.” He turned onto the road toward Margo’s. “Meg’s declared it non-negotiable. Family dinner.”
“Family,” Fiona repeated.
“You don’t have to come,” Stella said quickly. “If it’s too much.”
Fiona was quiet. The ocean appeared through the trees, glinting in the late afternoon light. Stella watched her mother look at it — this view that had become so familiar to Stella, so ordinary, and was brand new to Fiona.
“I’ll think about it,” Fiona said finally.
Tyler pulled up to Margo’s cottage. The garden was golden in the slanting sun, bougainvillea blazing purple against the fence.
“Get some rest,” Tyler said. “Tomorrow’s another day.”
“Yes.” Fiona opened the door, then paused. “It’s…”
She didn’t finish the sentence. Just nodded once, got out, and walked up the path to Margo’s front door.
Stella watched her go.
“How’d it go?” Tyler asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” Stella climbed into the front seat. “She said I seemed happy. Like it surprised her.”
