“I don’t know.” Michael shrugs. “Mom’s getting on in years and the house might be getting too much for her. I need to stay for a while.”
“Well, if you need a job at the boatyard you give me a call.”
The edge of Coatue comes into sight and Jeff and Michael stand up and lean on the railing, Michael unaware that a smile is playing on his lips, for there is no place like home. Never has been. He just hadn’t remembered that until now.
“It’s still beautiful,” he says with a sigh.
“Yeah. It’s changed, but it’s still my favorite place in the world.”
“I’m not sure I realized it until now, but I think it may be mine too.”
“Bet you didn’t miss the traffIc?” Sarah asks as they turn the corner into a wall of cars.
“Wow? What happened?” Michael cranes his head to see what’s causing it. “Looks like Manhattan.”
“I know. You should try parking.”
“No, thanks. Not today. How is Mom, then, Sarah? Really. I talk to her and she sounds great, but this whole boarding-house thing sounds nuts. Do you think the house is getting too much for her?”
Sarah lays a hand on Michael’s arm. “I know you’re worried, but she’s actually amazing. Your mom has more energy than anyone I’ve ever met, and renting out these rooms seems to have given her a whole new lease on life. Anyone else would have been exhausted at the prospect of getting the house ready, but she was extraordinary—she just never stops. And,” she continues, “the first tenant arrived and she adores him.”
“You’re sure he’s not an ax murderer?”
“A property developer. Although that may be the same thing?” Sarah snorts at her joke.
“A property developer? And she let him in the house? I thought she hates those developers—every time I talk to her she tells me how they’re circling to get their hands on the house.”
“Yes, but this one’s not local. He’s from Connecticut and doesn’t seem to be a threat. Poor guy just separated from his wife, and she and the kids are in a house out on Quidnet and he wanted to be close for the summer.”
“Anyone else?”
“There’s a woman coming in a few days. Daff something or other.”
“Do we know anything about her?”
“You know your mom—I think she got her life story in the first five minutes. Single mother, daughter staying with the dad for the summer, has always wanted to come to Nantucket.”
“Maybe she and the other guy will get together.” Michael laughs. “Wouldn’t that be something? A little romance over at Windermere. God knows it’s been years since that house has seen anything romantic.”
“Well, how about you, Mr. Powell? Speaking of romance, any special ladies in your life?”
Michael shivers. “Not something I want to talk about. Let’s just say I’m taking a break from romance for a while. A few years, perhaps.”
“Shame. Sam’s got a couple of nice women working at the store, if you change your mind.”
Michael laughs. “I’ll let you know. How is Sam?”
“Busy as ever. But life’s good. We’re happy. Lucky.”
“That’s great to hear. Thank you again, Sarah. For taking such good care of Mom. Honestly, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” she says softly. “She’s more like family than my own family.” And as Sarah looks over at Michael with a smile, the traffic finally starts to move.
Nan’s laughter peals through the house as Michael walks through the front door.
“Hello? Mom?”
“Darling!” Nan comes barreling down the hallway, apron on, wooden spoon in hand, looking exactly as he remembers her.
It is only now he realizes that he has a morbid fear of seeing her and not recognizing her, expecting her to be stooped, or slow, getting older.
But she looks exactly as she has always looked. Her hair pulled back in a chic chignon, her lips a dark red, her figure as slim as ever and, most importantly, she looks happy.
“Oh Michael!” She flings her arms around him, squeezing him tight, then steps back to look at him, a smile of delight spreading over her face as she cups his chin. “You look handsome but sad,” she says, gazing into his eyes. “You need to be home, I think. Oh how I’ve missed you!” And she links her arm with his and leads him down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Oh. Hi.” There is a man standing at the island, dicing onions