“Why did Edward’s boss come to visit?” my mom asks.
“To do what he failed to do—to tell me that Edward is the new owner of Bumble Cottage.”
“Oh yes, he told us when he dropped off the wine,” says my mom.
“And you’re not upset?”
“Why should we be?” she asks. “He’ll be a much better landlord than his mom.”
“And he brought us some morning buns from Tartine,” adds Annie.
“You guys don’t see the problem with him letting us live here rent-free?” I ask, taking a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs. Now that the color has faded from the sky, the ocean has turned from silver to lead.
“He said something about negotiating a reasonable rent,” says my mom, passing me the cheese plate. “But he promised it would be something we could afford.”
“I think it’s really sweet of him,” says my sister.
“It’s more than really sweet! It’s insanity. And I don’t think he can afford to do it.”
“Why not? He’s loaded,” says Annie.
“Compared to us he might be. But I don’t think he can really afford to keep this place. The property taxes alone would be more than ten grand a month—and that’s not even including home insurance, which is not cheap around here. That’s a lot of money to throw away out of the goodness of your heart.”
“I see what you’re saying,” my mom says slowly. “But don’t you think Edward can manage his own affairs without you telling him what to do?”
“No, I don’t think he can. The man is too nice for hisown good. He made a foolish promise because we once built sandcastles together.” I pop a cube of cheese in my mouth.
“But that’s so romantic!” says Annie. “Now youhaveto go out with him.”
“No! It’s not like that. And even if it were, I don’t think it would be wise. I’m not sure he’s even interested.”
“You are such a liar!” says Annie. “Ofcoursehe’s interested. He’s obviously in love with you!”
“You’ve got to stop saying that. The man hardly knows me.”
“From what Edward told me about meeting you on the trail last fall,” says Annie, “for him it was basically love at first sight.”
“I very much doubt he saidthat.”
“He didn’t, actually,” she admits as she carefully stacks sharp cheddar on a cracker with a raspberry. “I just read between the lines.” I can’t let myself believe any of this. Because a part of me wants it to be true—and I know better. Most of Annie’s observations are shaped by her romantic ideals, not rooted in reality.
“Did you know that a man determines if you are wife material within the first six seconds of meeting you?” my sister asks.
“What? Where did you get that? TikTok?”
“That doesn’t make it any less true. Back me up, Mom!”
“You know what your father said...” she says a little wistfully. I know my parents’ first meeting by heart. It’s the fairytale we grew up on. Mom was playing a fortune teller at a Halloween party in LA. She pretended to read dad’s palm, and before she got two words out, he clasped her hand saying, “Don’t bother reading my future. I can see it in your eyes.” Then he kissed her.
“I enjoyed the kiss a little bit,” my mom would chime in every time he told the story. “And then I slapped him.” That was always my favorite part as a kid. To think of my mild-manneredmom slapping someone!
“With that slap, I knew for certain,” Dad would say. We heard this story over and over growing up. My mom tearfully shared it at my dad’s memorial. I know Annie expects her own love story to be much the same. Poor Hunter is just a standby. My sister is still waiting for her “true love” to appear. Annie is confident she’ll recognize him the moment she meets him.
I, on the other hand, have always been skeptical of the legend of my parent’s first meeting. I can easily believe my dad used that line on my mom. But that doesn’t mean he hadn’t used it on plenty of other women before her. These meet-cutes all appear more romantic in hindsight.
“Edward is going to find that he can’t save Bumble Cottage,” I say as I grab another cracker. “He’s going to need to sell it to make his mom happy, keep his job, and make a gazillion dollars. And that’s just fine. We’ll move and find something better.”
“We can’t move!” says Annie.
