Kate didn’t answer.
“Kate,” her mother said, gentler. “I know it’s a lot.”
“It is a lot.”
Jo Ellen reached over without looking and put her hand on Maggie’s back in a move of pure solidarity. Kate watched the two of them and felt something quiet, and slightly wrenching, click into place.
Her mother had a person. A forever friend, a companion, and a replacement not for Artie, her beloved husband, but for Kate, the daughter who’d been there since that husband died. Tessa had flitted off to work on cruise lines and for the Ritz-Carlton, but Kate had stayed home in Ithaca.
And now, she was…not needed.
It was, Kate had to admit, a good thing. But it was also a little sad. Changing seasons always were.
“Okay,” she said finally. “I don’t love it. But I am not going to fight you about Crawfordville.”
“Thank you,” the two of them said in unison.
Kate stood. The morning had taken a turn she had not anticipated, and she had research to get back to. She was, she realized, going to need a longer walk than usual before she sat down with a notebook and Bible again.
“Six o’clock tonight in the kitchen,” she said. “Eli’s taking everyone through evacuation and preparation. He expects you both. You can tell him about Crawfordville yourself.”
“We will.” Her mother got up, too, and put a tender arm around her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
When she left, Kate walked down to the beach instead of back into the house, because she needed to clear her head before she could read another word of the Bible.
The empty car seat in the back of Dusty’s truck added weight to Tessa’s already heavy heart.
“You’re staring at it again,” Dusty said, eyes on the road.
“Of course I am. I miss her. She’s my little buddy.” She reached over the console to touch his arm. “Don’t even pretend you don’t miss her.”
“I do,” he told her. “But if Lynda is okay with this temporary arrangement, then we have to be as well.”
Tessa sighed, understanding that Olive’s mother hadn’t changed her mind about adoption—something she could do up to the moment the papers were signed—but she’d been doing well enough to earn a forty-eight-hour off-site break from the inpatient center, as long as she stayed at her own apartment.
The two days were technically still “supervised” because Morgan had to check in twice daily with her counselor by video. Lynda approved it because the court would look favorably on Morgan having had this kind of meaningful time with Olive before signing the final adoption papers.
Dusty fought to make it happen becauseblockingMorgan from this visit would have been worse for the adoption than allowing it.
Tessa leaned in and whispered, “Can I ask you something?”
“Do I trust Morgan? Yes. But do I have a full tank of gas and a backup plan in case she flakes out on Friday? You betcha.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask,” she replied. “It’s about…Morgan.”
He slid her a look. “You know the rules, Tess.”
All too well. How could he keep a secret like the details of Morgan’s problem and treatment? Tessa would have to cut out her tongue and then she’d still let something out after one glass of wine with Vivien.
Which is why Dusty, not Tessa, was the therapist.
“But, like, from a medical standpoint, don’t you think I should know in terms of taking care of Olive? Is it mental? Emotional? Addiction?”
His eyes shuttered, but he fought a smile. “Not going to say.”
She gave a soft grunt. “I know that her husband and parents were killed while she was in the hospital with a newborn, and that she has no one else, and is a desperate, destroyed, depressed single mother.”
“That’s enough for you to know. When we adopt Olive, we’ll get her medical records and family health history.” He closed his hand over hers. “I can’t and won’t tell you more, but surely the fact that she’s allowed to leave her treatment center and take forty-eight hours at her own home should give you confidence.”
