She paused again, letting them all remember that several months ago, they learned that Roger had gotten in trouble with what the FBI called “the Dixie Mafia” and Artie had essentially set himself up as a decoy so the Feds could take the gang down. He bartered Roger’s release from prison for white-collar crimes in exchange for his heroics, but the men had decided, for safety, the two families should be separated—temporarily.
With Roger’s death, that separation had lasted thirty years.
But that wasn’t what Roger wanted, was it?
“‘Artie’s going to risk his life to save mine, and I think we should pay him back for that, Maggie. This little piece of sand on the Gulf has always been a haven for the Lawsons and Wylies. Iknow I bought it for you, but I’d like to give them half. I hope you agree.’”
She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears Tessa was sure she’d never seen before. No one breathed as she continued.
“‘We’re about to go through some tough things, Maggie, and I’m sorry. But we’ll come out the other end. We’ll be okay.’” She shuddered, fighting tears.
“He knew it was coming,” Eli said. “Just like that FBI agent told you, Mom. He and Artie cooked the whole thing up. And this was his way to pay Artie back.”
“How sweet,” Jo Ellen cooed. “And sad.”
“Keep reading, Mom,” Vivien urged.
“Okay. He writes, ‘And we’ll have this place—God willing—so you and Jo can giggle and gossip, the kids can get old and bring their own kids there, and maybe Eli will finally open his eyes and see that Kate’s the one for him. Oh, and Peter will finally get off his butt and marry Vivien.’”
Vivien gasped, and everyone gave a soft laugh at just how prophetic it all was.
“‘Anyway, I might not be around for the next summer in Destin. I just don’t know. It’s up to God and maybe the FBI. But whatever happens, remember this. The Wylies aren’t just our friends, Maggie. Artie is like a brother I never had and you and Jo? Well, you two girls should be sitting on the back porch sipping limoncello under the stars until you’re ninety. I hope I’m there with you. With all of you. I made some dumb mistakes, and I regret them all. But what I don’t regret? You, our family, our friends, and our summer house in Destin. May they all last forever. Love you, Roger.’”
For at least five heartbeats, nobody spoke.
Then Maggie lowered the paper and looked down at Jo Ellen. “Limoncello under the stars, my friend? Looks like you own the place.” She turned to Tessa and Kate. “You all do.”
Dusty pushed the door open and marched in, still holding his phone. “Yes,” he said simply, going straight to Tessa.
“What?” She grabbed his arm. “Yes…what?”
“Yes, if you own the house and have for more than a year?—”
“Thirty years!” Maggie said, waving the letter.
“She needs to see the document,” Dusty said. “We can scan it and she’ll get it into the system. We have to file a certified copy with the county recorder tomorrow morning to reflect the title transfer in the public record. She needs the home study update form, which she’s starting herself today. She needs an affidavit from us about Olive’s current care arrangement, and once that’s all done, we’re in compliance.”
Tessa swallowed. “And…”
He looked at her. He was half-smiling and half-something else. “And Olive is ours.”
Closing her eyes, Tessa let the absolute joy of that news wash over her as she hugged Dusty. Then she rushed to Maggie and hugged her, too. And Eli and Vivien, then she and Kate both carefully hugged their mother, who was bawling.
“Guess it’s a good thing I wrote those diaries,” Vivien joked as they finally started to come down from the high. “Who knew they’d be the thing that saved us all?”
Maggie smiled. “Roger knew.”
November 24, 2025
Dear Diary,
Here I go again…a Destin diary.
How could I not? My darling Peter—must give the obligatory diary —gave me this beautiful woven silk notebook last night at dinner and told me to keep the tradition going. This fall, he and I read every page I wrote during those seven summers. Now he insists I keep the Destin Diary tradition alive.
And that’s not the only thing Peter McCarthy had in store for me over our romantic candlelight date last night. He also delivered a heartfelt (but short because Detective McCarthy is a man of few but always perfect words) speech about his undying love for me.
And then…he proposed! Cue my teen Vivien squeal.
