his specialties. My absolute favorite. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans—the good fat ones.” Maeve unwrapped a square pan covered in foil.
“What is it? Rolls?”
“Nope. Corn bread.”
They ate, nibbling on everything and not saying much. Amanda got up and looked outside. “It’s starting to get dark. There’s another reason I picked this hotel, besides the fact that it looked really pretty online.” She pulled back the curtain. “In about thirty minutes, all of these beautiful trees out here are going to light up.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. We can sit out on the balcony and watch it all come to light.”
“You’ve really thought of everything. I definitely don’t want to miss that.” Maeve grabbed her overnighter and headed into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, they stood out on the balcony in their nightgowns and fluffy white robes. They weren’t the only ones doing that. To the left and right, Amanda noticed couples in their robes too. They stood waiting for something to happen. People meandered along the road below, anticipating the event. A nervous energy filled the air.
“Even if they didn’t light them up, the trees are lovely here,” Maeve said. “Almost as beautiful as those at the plantation.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’m loving it.”
Suddenly everything lit up and the town went silent. Seconds ticked by, peacefulness cloaking them. White twinkle lights lit every single tree for as far as they could see. The moss blurred the lights, making it appear like a misty haze.
And just as quickly as the lights came on, voices rose and chatter started filling the air. The perfect moment had passed.
Maeve went back inside. “This has been a perfect day.” She sat down on the bed. “I’m going to have amazing dreams tonight.”
Amanda had followed her inside, locking the french doors behind her and pulling the curtains. “Me too. I’m going to sleep like a baby.” Amanda picked up a small box from the nightstand and peeked inside. Thank goodness the hotel had been able to do this for her.
“This is for you.” She handed the small box to Maeve.
“What is it?”
“Open and see.”
Maeve opened the box, then put the top back on it. “You did this?” She lifted the lid again. “Spanish moss of my very own.”
“Yes. I had them freeze it to be sure we weren’t delivering you to Judy with a bunch of bugs, but I wanted you to have something to help you remember this trip every day.”
“Oh my. Judy would’ve gone crazy at the thought of bugs. Almost worth the look on her face, but I wouldn’t dare do that to her.”
“Not exactly the way you want to be remembered.”
Maeve shook her head. “Could shorten the grieving process. She wouldn’t miss me as much when I’m gone. It could be considered a favor.”
Amanda couldn’t hide the shock. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“You’re right. That wasn’t nice.” Maeve covered her mouth. “That was really bad. Thank you. Very thoughtful.” She scooched down on the bed, laying her head on the pillow. “I can’t believe you’ve done all this for me. We’ve known each other such a short time, but it feels like longer, doesn’t it?”
“You feel like forever family to me.” Amanda turned off the lights over the beds, then went back over and opened the drapes. “The lights will be nice to fall asleep to, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” Maeve pulled her covers up under her chin.
“Honestly, I’m not sure if it’s pretty or spooky at night,” Amanda said.
“I guess that’s a matter of perspective, but I still think it’s gorgeous. I wish I’d been able to put some of this moss in my tree in the backyard. It would’ve been so beautifully out of place on that live oak. I would’ve…”
Amanda turned toward Maeve, who had fallen asleep midsentence. She wondered if she was dreaming of the moss in the trees tonight. She hoped experiencing it firsthand had lived up to Maeve’s dreams.
She missed Hailey and Jesse, but she treasured this time with Maeve. She was so glad she’d been able to take this trip with her. It seemed like such a small thing compared to the gifts Maeve had given her. Not just friendship, but the strength to move forward. The trust Maeve placed in her buoyed her faith. Amanda and her children would be better people for having known her.
She thought of that first shell she found with the quote by Havelock Ellis: “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go