We decided it would stop with us.
On the final evening of summer, we carried dinner onto the beach.
Jamie chased gulls until Mia made him sit down.
Chloe opened lemonade.
Diane brought Vivian’s old recipe for peach pie.
Sophie sat beside me as the sky turned pink over the water.
“Do you regret coming here?” I asked.
“No.”
“Even after everything?”
She considered the question.
“I regret what happened. But I don’t regret knowing.”
Then she looked toward Chloe and smiled.
“I always wanted a sister.”
“So did I,” Mia called from across the blanket.
We laughed.
The seaside house had nearly been stolen because Eric believed its value could be measured in money.
He was wrong.
Its greatest value was not the land, the ocean view, or the developer’s offer.
It was the place where three branches of a broken family finally met.
That summer began with a barefoot child asking why I was sleeping in his mother’s bed.
