I’d told her all about it over a coffee the next morning. Although she hadn’t responded to my giddy, scrawled note. I supposed there wasn’t much else she had to tell me. I’d miss Josephine, though – we’d become quite good friends through all of this.
Lorraine came around the counter to give me a hug. ‘You, Molly, are going to live a long, love-filled life. And you deserve every bit of happiness that comes to you. Now run along and catch up with your family. I’ll see you all tonight at the pot luck.’
‘Deal,’ I said.
‘One thing before you go: what should I bring? The éclairs or the spiral croissants?’
I laughed. All right, so I’d never live down my indecisiveness. But with a strong support system of people around me who truly wanted the best for me, and the conviction of my heart, sometimes even I could make a decision.
‘The cardamom heart cookies,’ I said decisively. ‘And an enormous pitcher of your spiced chai latte.’
Now it was Lorraine’s turn to grin.
‘Well, look at you go,’ she said, then set to work boxing up a delectable assortment of baked goods.
‘Come on, Molly,’ shouted Tiff from outside. ‘If you take much longer, the season’s going to change.’
Chapter 36
ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING
The Pink House was gloriously chaotic. The kitchen counters and dining-room table groaned with decorative platters and gold-rimmed dishes topped with everything from home-made ravioli to vibrant Vietnamese salads. The wine collection had spilled out of the fridge and onto the floor by the dozens, looking like a fancy ten-pin bowling setup.
The Bluetooth was behaving, and rather than playing crackling whisperwinds or AM talk radio, the speaker system boomed with upbeat jazz tunes. The final Summerween dinner was Rosie’s only concession to music that wasn’t from the eighties. If she hated it, she hid it well, because she was spinning around the room in a gorgeous full-skirted dress from For Old Times’ Sake. We’d all gone shopping after our trip to Lorraine’s earlier today, and we had an impressive collection of dresses and heels to show for the effort.
The party was split between indoors and out – the latter being where most of us had decided to spend the evening. After all, it was our last night with the beach as our backdrop and Rosie’s gorgeous garden all around us.
As I poured myself a glass of wine, Rosie swept up beside me, slightly out of breath from all the spinning.
‘I just wanted to let you know that Finn’s doing fine,’ she whispered, holding out a glass so that I could top her up. ‘He just wants you to be happy. For all of us to be happy.’
I smiled. ‘He has a good heart.’
‘He does.’ She paused as I topped up the glass of wine for her. ‘Thank you for your help with Charlie’s guitar, by the way. We both appreciate it. It’s such a special piece, and it deserves to live on.’
Her voice hitched on the last words.
‘It does,’ I said, trying to keep the same hitch out of my own voice. ‘I’m really proud of Finn for finding something he’s passionate about. Something that really has meaning to him.’
And I meant it, too. I wanted the world for Finn. I just wanted that world to be one where we were what we’d always been: great friends.
‘One more thing,’ said Rosie, having settled the tears that had threatened. ‘I’ve decided not to sell the house.’
I squealed so loudly that magic erupted from my fingertips, sending sparkles flying throughout the kitchen and living area. The beach towels flapped in their basket, and Bertha the orchid wobbled in her pot.
‘It’s not just mine, after all,’ Rosie said breathlessly as I wrapped her up in a hug. ‘The Pink House belongs to all of us. And now that it seems the magic has settled, perhaps we can all settle, too.’
‘Yes!’ I screeched, inviting a look of alarm from Mom, who was hurrying by for some napkins. (As far as Mom was concerned, you could never have enough napkins.) ‘Talk about making the right decisions.’
‘It must be the whisperwinds in the air,’ said Rosie with a grin. ‘And speaking of the air, why don’t you head outside and enjoy yourself.’
I squeezed her arm and went outside, where the party was in full swing.
Finn perched on one of the deep outdoor couches with Charlie’s guitar and started to play along with the traces of swing music that filtered out through the house, plucking softchords from the instrument using the musical magic he’d honed over the summer.
Nothing made me gladder than seeing that he’d found something he loved – giving his music a whole-hearted effort in a way that would make Charlie proud.
Well, almost nothing.
