FOUR
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ansley
When I opened the door to the store that morning, the first thing I did was rush to my store-manager-turned-design-assistant, Leah, and hug her. Her strawberry-blond hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail, and she was wearing an emerald-green silk blouse, the exact color of her eyes. The dusting of freckles across her nose had become more prominent this summer.
I looked around. Everything seemed pretty much the same despite my almost total absence over the past month. The living room display set up at the front of the shop, the tables of accessories, the shelves of books and candles. The only thing better than the inside was the gorgeous view out the window of the waterfront. And I never took for granted that work was a two-block walk from home. It was the best commute I knew of.
She laughed. “What was that for?”
I shook my head. “What was it not for? You have run my entire life for more than a month, Leah. There aren’t enough thank-yous.”
She waved me away like it was nothing, and before I could say anything else, she asked, “Any thoughts on those ceilings at the Turner house?”
But it wasn’t nothing. That she had taken over like this said a lot about her future at the store, her future with me—and made me realize that I needed to give her a raise.
The Turners had just bought the house at the end of my street. It was surrounded by water on three sides and, built in the mid-1700s, was one of the oldest white clapboard houses in town. That, of course, posed a few design challenges. But if there was anything I loved, it was a challenge. Admittedly, I had a few more than I wanted coming at me these days, but I could handle one more if it meant figuring out how to make seven-and-a-half-foot ceilings seem taller and make tiny rooms feel more spacious.
I nodded. “I’ve been going back and forth, but I think we need to rip them out like we did in the kitchen. Let’s stain the exposed rafters to give them a beam-like feel and lacquer the shiplap between them. It will give them a few more inches of height.” I paused. “And will add so much character.”
She smiled. “I love that, and we are so on the same page. I was thinking about going a little bit transitional, adding some modern flair.”
This was why I loved Leah. She got me. “Yes!” I said excitedly. “It’s never going to be a grand home, no matter what we do, so I say we mix key antiques with new upholstery and some unexpected accessories.”
Leah nodded and handed me the mood board she’d been working on. “Faye loves gold, so what about these?”
The Barbara Cosgrove jar lamps with gold stripes and gold shades would be a perfect, fun touch on the pair of antique demilune commodes we were using underneath a pair of windows in the living room.
“Let’s mix natural fiber rugs with those great antique Persian ones they have.”
Leah nodded and made a note. “The ones with the blues, right? The greens aren’t going to work.”
“Exactly,” I said, walking toward the back of the store to check out the boxes waiting there for me. This was the best thing about having a store. You got presents every day.
“Oh, and Leah,” I called. “I want one of us to be there every day during construction. We need to make sure the original floors, moldings, window casings, and those amazing pocket doors are properly restored.”
She nodded, standing beside me now. “Do you want them burned back to the original?”
I thought for a second. “Only in the rooms with the egg and dart.”
The bell on the door tinkled, and my mouth started watering before I even turned around.
“As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Ansley Murphy in her store.”
I turned to smile at Kyle, with his tanned limbs, sun-kissed hair, and perfectly chiseled jawline. To be clear, I was drooling over the coffee he was delivering. I’d leave the drooling over Kyle to the younger generation. “Can you even believe it?” I asked.
Kyle was beside me now. I turned, and he kissed me on the cheek. “Our girl looks a little better,” he said.
I smiled. “She’s a mess, but she’s out of bed.” I shrugged. “I’ll take it.”
He handed me my cup. “What is it?” I asked.
“I felt like you needed comfort and stability, so I went back to your old favorite: skinny vanilla soy latte.”
I was a little hurt when he didn’t add, “But you don’t need the skinny,” like he usually did.
“I know Sloane loves chocolate milk,” Kyle continued, “so I made her some with a bit of ashwagandha to relieve her stress. It’s amazing if I do say so myself.”
I held my breath as I asked, “Did she drink it?”
He smiled and nodded, satisfied. “Leah,” he said as she panted over. “Iced coconut chai latte for you, my friend.”
“Thanks, Kyle,” she said breathlessly. She took a sip. “It’s so good.”
Kyle turned back to me and winked. He knew what he did to these poor girls. To my knowledge, he hadn’t been romantically connected to anyone in at least six months. That seemed unusual for him.
The door tinkled again and, to my surprise, it was Kimmy, Peachtree Bluff’s resident produce girl. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, and she looked different. Her previously spiky half-blue hair was longer and all black again. It was softer, cute. Cuffs with diamonds traveled up her ears, and a tiny diamond stud twinkled in her nose. “Oh, good,” Kyle said. “You’re here.”
I looked from one to the other, trying to assess what they were up to.
“We’re making you dinner tomorrow night,” Kimmy said.
I put my hand to my heart. “What?”
Kyle nodded. “Yes. Chef Kimmy and I are making dinner for all the Murphy women.”
“And the two tiny men,” Kimmy added.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, flattered.
“Of course we do,” Kimmy said.
“We love you, Ansley,” Kyle agreed. “Now that Sloane is out of bed, let’s give her a reason to stay out. Let’s celebrate a little.”
“You sweet, darling children. I accept your very kind offer.”
Kimmy grabbed a cup out of the insulated Coke crate–turned–coffee carrier that was hanging by a leather guitar strap around Kyle’s neck. She tapped her cup to mine. “It wasn’t an offer,” she said. “We were doing it whether you liked it or not.”
It was one of those times that made me remember why I lived in Peachtree Bluff, why this town meant so much to me. These small kindnesses might not have seemed like much. But at times like these, small kindnesses were actually everything.
WHEN I GOT BACK home that afternoon, Mom and Caroline were chatting on the white linen living room couch while Caroline fed Preston a bottle. The house seemed quiet. Too quiet.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Emerson convinced Sloane to take the boys out in the wagon,” Caroline said, adjusting the swaddle blanket on her shoulder that covered part of the sleeveless white blouse she had paired with perfectly fitted black shorts. It was simple, but on Caroline, impossibly chic. “Vivi is riding her bike with them.”
My eyes widened. I was impressed. “That’s major.”
Mom exhaled and put a hand up to the opera-length pearls that hung over a simple pink, long-sleeved shift. Looking at the two of them side by side, it was easy to see where Caroline got her style. “Y’all need to stop babying her. If you keep doing everything for her, you’re just going to make her worse.”
Caroline smiled down at Preston as she said, “I feel so sorry for her. Even I’m having a hard time doling out the tough love.”
I sat down in one of the club chairs across from Mom and Caroline. “I think we’re even more sympathetic because we’ve all lived what she’s living, not being sure if someone you love more than life is dead.”
“Oh, I don’t think she thinks he’s dead,” Mom said.
“Well, she knows he’s in a horrible situation.”
“Right,” Mom said. “She’s in a horrible situation, he’s in a horrible situation, and you’re all complicit in letting her wallow in it.”
Caroline sat Preston up on her lap, leaning his chin into her hand, and patted his back to coax out a burp. “No, we’re not,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” Mom asked.
This conversation was making me uncomfortable and a little bit angry. Sure, Mom hadn’t let me come home or helped me in any way after my husband, Carter, died. And, yes, it turned out OK. But that didn’t mean that’s what I needed to do with Sloane. I loved my mother and I respected her, but freezing me out like that when I needed someone to lean on had nearly killed me. I wasn’t going to put my daughter through that.
“Kimmy and Kyle are making dinner for us tomorrow night,” I said, changing the subject as the door slammed.
“They are?” Emerson asked. “That’s so nice.”
Sloane trailed in behind her, Taylor on her hip. His head was resting on her shoulder, and I could almost feel his bliss at having his mother back. Sloane was so thin that her little shorts were hanging off her hips. Her light brown hair was ratty and pulled back into a slouchy ponytail. The circles under her doe eyes had circles. Usually Sloane had rosy cheeks, clear skin, and that sort of natural, effortless beauty reserved for Neutrogena commercials. Now, she was so pale and sallow, her normally full cheeks sunken in. I hardly recognized her. I wished I could hold her and make it better like she was doing for Taylor.
“I want some more of that chocolate milk,” Sloane said, exhausted.
“If you want chocolate milk, then you shall have chocolate milk.”
I could hear Vivi and AJ laughing and yelling out on the lawn.
“Is this dinner a family thing?” Emerson asked. She leaned casually against the wall, her leggings and tank accentuating her lithe body. She was eating well again, off that dreadful juice cleanse she had been on when she got to Peachtree Bluff, but her legs and arms still looked too thin to me. And she was a bit pale, too, which was odd, considering she was getting plenty of June sunshine.
I cocked my head to the side. “Well, no. I suppose not. Did you want to invite some friends?”
She took a sip out of the water bottle in her hand as she strode across the room and said, “No friends. I just thought I’d ask Mark.”
She was gone before we could ask her any questions, that smart girl.
“Well, that’s new,” I said.
“Not as new as you might think,” Caroline said. “You know, Mom, you should really get better control over your household.”
Mom laughed heartily. I looked at Sloane, hoping for a smile, but her face was as stone cold as ever.
“I’ve always liked Mark,” Mom said. “And it’s time for Emerson to settle down.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mom,” I said. “It’s just dinner.”
“Dinner with the entire family,” Sloane pointed out, sharing a look with her sister.
That was true. I liked Mark, and I loved the idea of Emerson settling down. I didn’t disapprove of her laser focus on her career, but I wanted her to have other things, too. I wanted her to have more.
“Mommy, I sirsty,” Taylor said.
“I can get him something to drink,” Caroline said, though she was still burping Preston.
“It’s OK,” Sloane said, walking toward the kitchen.
“See, coddling,” Mom said.
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t do this with her. Not today.
“Hey, Mom,” Caroline said. “I’m going to put Preston down for his nap. Do you mind listening for him? I’m going to take Grammy out to lunch.” Caroline winked at Mom, and she winked back. Those two were always up to something. I wished Mom could be a tiny bit better at disguising the fact that Caroline was her favorite.
“That’s fine,” I said, my mind still on Sloane. “I’m going to go make some tea,” I said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. It was terribly transparent, but if I wanted to help my daughter, then that was my prerogative.
As I reached my arms out to take Taylor from Sloane—as exhausted as I had been, I missed the boys like crazy while I was at work—I glanced out the window at the house next door that once belonged to Mr. Solomon, my crazy neighbor whom I had fought with for years over the fence that separated our yards. Happily, we made up in the weeks before his death, thanks to Caroline, of all people. Now it sat empty and alone, almost sullen, as if it were reaching out to me.
It wasn’t as large or grand as this house, but it had a charm that had always drawn me in. I wondered for the millionth time who would scoop it up when it went on the market and how I would convince the buyers to let me decorate it. And, for a split second, Jack, the first boy I had ever told how much I loved that house, crossed my mind. But he was gone, I remembered. And so were those sunny, carefree summer days.