Page 148 of Key West Homecoming

“On the veranda,” she said. “It's cooler.”

They moved outside. Jasmine climbed one of the columns, and a fig tree filled a corner of the small walled garden. Rebecca had already put out a pitcher of iced tea and four glasses.

Emma took the same chair she'd sat in eleven days earlier. That afternoon, Edmund had told her the truth about Gloria and the cottage. It seemed impossible that so much had happened since then.

The sandwich was extraordinary, and Emma told Rebecca so.

“It's the bread. There's a Cuban bakery on Petronia that presses their own. If you don't have their bread, you don't have a Cuban sandwich. You've got a ham and cheese with pretensions.”

Jake smiled. “Ham and cheese with pretensions. I like that.”

Edmund set his sandwich down.

“Emma, may I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“Your grandmother said something to me once that I've been carrying around for a while now. I meant to write it down for you, but I never did. I think I'd rather say it out loud.” He glanced at Rebecca. “You can correct me if I get any of it wrong.”

“I've heard this one before.”

“Have you?”

“You told me on the porch in Providence when the girls were eleven.”

“I did?”

“Twice.”

“That sounds like me.”

Edmund turned back to Emma.

“Gloria told me that people spend too much time trying to decide what the next part of their life should look like. She said sometimes you don't decide it all at once. You pay attention to what you keep reaching for and where you feel most like yourself. Eventually, if you're brave enough, you stop arguing with what you already know.”

Emma smiled. “That sounds like Grandma.”

“She said she figured it out some six years after your grandfather died. She'd spent those years wondering whether she was allowed to be happy again. Eventually she got tired of waiting for permission.” Edmund smiled. “Then she met me at the mailboxes.”

“And you were what she kept reaching for?”

“Every day of the eight and a half years.”

Emma looked down at her hands.

She thought about the last two weeks and all the times she'd found reasons to stay a little longer. There had been mornings at Margarita Max's when she could have gone back to Winslow's but didn't. There were evenings on Jake's porch when she had known she should leave and hadn't wanted to.

Even the hearing had stopped feeling like the thing she was waiting for before her life could begin.

Maybe Gloria was right. Emma had been paying attention without realizing it. She had noticed what she wanted for weeks and was ready to declare it.

“Edmund?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Em.”