I heard Sloane take a deep breath. “I understand, Caroline.”
She paused. I could tell, even from across the miles, that there was so much she wanted to say. It was killing her.
But instead of grilling me, Sloane said, “Wait. Emerson, why are you leaving LA?”
“Oh, right,” she said, sniffing again. “I’m filming in Atlanta and around Georgia for a few months. I found this awesome town house to rent.”
This was the best news I’d heard in a long time. Maybe this wouldn’t just be the pathetic divorcée coming home. It would be fun sisterly bonding. “Wait! No! You should come live in Peachtree Bluff, too!”
“Well . . .”
She sounded skeptical. “Come on, Emerson,” I coaxed. “It will be so fun. We can paddleboard and swim and go over to Starlite Island like old times.”
“You guys know I have major FOMO,” Sloane said.
“You should bring the kids for a couple of weeks,” Emerson said. “To visit Caroline, Vivi . . .” She paused dramatically. “And me!”
“Yay!” I cheered.
“Actually,” Sloane said, “Adam just got deployed for nine months.”
“Oh, Sloane,” I said, feeling my heart break for my sister. I didn’t know how she did it. “Un-yay.”
I could hear the tears in Emerson’s voice as she said, “Sloane, no. Not again.”
“Girls,” Sloane said. “Yes. Again. This is his career. Buck up.” In this regard, Sloane was just like me. She never let anyone see her sweat.
“So you come, too!” I said. “Bring the kids, and come to Peachtree Bluff. It will be like a fun sisters’ retreat!”
“I guess I could,” Sloane said. “At least for a month or so. That will be so much better than sitting around here worrying by myself.”
That was when my heart began to race. Mom’s guesthouse was plenty big for Vivi, the new baby, and me. It had two stories; the upstairs had two bedrooms, and the downstairs had one, with its own kitchen and living room. It was almost as big as our apartment in New York.
But if Emerson and Sloane were coming home, I wouldn’t be the only one who wanted that prime location. And now it was more essential than ever, because if I didn’t get the guesthouse, Sloane’s germ-ridden children would be near my baby all the time. I couldn’t have that happening. I cringed at the mere thought of those noses, always a little runny like the drip hoses Mom kept on her roses.
“Girls,” I said casually, “don’t worry a bit. We will stay in the guesthouse so no one has to hear any of that pesky middle-of-the-night crying.”
There was a long pause. I knew Sloane wouldn’t say anything. And what could Emerson say? It wasn’t like she could justify taking the guesthouse with its three bedrooms when she didn’t have any children.
But I didn’t want to risk it. So I said, “Oh, my goodness. I have to run. My lawyer is calling.”
I hit End abruptly. I hadn’t hired a lawyer, so my lawyer wasn’t calling. But my credit cards were. Better put those babies to good use before the separation was finalized.
In reality, I was lucky. James couldn’t cut me off. New York was a fault state, and he had cheated on me. Even if the settlement didn’t go the way I thought, I knew I had the nest egg Dad had left for us to fall back on.
I felt it again. That lump in my throat. I cleared it. Only three shopping hours left before Vivi would be home from a birthday party. A spa birthday party. I rolled my eyes. I’m not sure I had realized how ridiculous our lives had become.
It was increasingly evident that we needed to get to Peachtree. And fast. Plus, I had to stake my claim to that guesthouse before anyone else could.
It occurred to me, briefly, that I didn’t know what Emerson’s new role was. No matter. I’d find out soon enough. Maybe she would get to play the lead this time. Maybe this would be her big break.
I wondered briefly if you actually recognized your big break as it was happening to you or if it was only in hindsight. Then I grabbed my tote and walked out the door, calling the mover to pack up all our things as I did. Really, when you thought about it, this was going to be the best thing that ever happened to my mom. She obviously didn’t have anything going on in that sleepy town of hers.
It was a sucky time any way you sliced it. But it made it a little bit better to think that Mom was going to be so happy.
THREE
this side of the mason-dixon
ansley
I’m not sure why my grandmother chose to leave her Peachtree Bluff home to me. It didn’t make sense that she wouldn’t have left it to her children. Or at least to all of her grandchildren. I’ve never been quite so shocked as when my mom told me the news after the funeral, with a bit of a put-off air, that I was the new owner of the Peachtree compound. My cousins never went to Peachtree anyway, but my brothers, Scott and John, did. Scott, in true Scott fashion, couldn’t have cared less. He was off on his next adventure before it had time to be a blip on his radar screen. But John had a fit.
It was so childish, as though I had gone to Grandmother and begged her to leave me the house, as though I had tricked her into rewriting her will and held the pen while she was doped up on morphine. I had no control over her actions and promised my siblings and cousins that they could use the house anytime they wanted to. But that wasn’t enough for John. In fact, he quit speaking to me altogether for quite some time. Over the years, I had received a terse sympathy phone call from him when Carter was killed and had talked to him a few other times. I thought it would blow over quickly, be no big deal. My brother was going to disown me over a house? It didn’t seem possible. But he had. Since the day after Grandmother’s funeral, nothing much between us had changed.
In similar fashion, I was pretty sure nothing about this boat had changed since 1974 when it was built—at least, nothing for the better.
This was a beautiful old motor yacht, no doubt about that. If it had been a house I would have said it had great bones. But houses didn’t have to float on water. Or run. I was unconvinced that this once-proud vessel could competently do either.
The white boat had huge flecks of paint missing from its sides and two of the windows were broken.
“Yikes.”
“Bad hurricane,” Sheldon said, unconcerned.
I could tell from the look on his face that this project meant a lot to him.
“Hey there, Ansley, Sheldon,” I heard Dockmaster Dan call from behind us. It really was uncanny. It was as though you had to have a name that would alliterate well with your chosen profession in order to live here. No one could believe I wasn’t an architect. Kimmy had been Kale Kimmy for an entire hour. But she wasn’t having it. And she has a lot of tattoos, which makes people uneasy. So everyone dropped it.