Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lily
The twins burst through the front door with the force of a summer storm, each carrying a lumpy bag of clay supplies and loud opinions.
“Shotgun!” Blaze yelled.
“No fair!” Nora shouted back, swatting his arm with her canvas bag.
Lily sighed but smiled, keys already in hand. “There’s no ‘shotgun,’ guys. It’s three blocks. We’re walking.”
“But you have your keys in your hand,” Nora stated.
“Because they unlock the building,” Lily laughed.
“Okay, but if we were taking the car,” Blaze insisted, hopping on one foot as he shoved his sneakers on, “I would totally have called it.”
Lily opened the door wider. “Out you go, little captains. Let’s get to the studio before your mom finishes her tea and decides she doesn’t want peace and quiet after all.”
Anna appeared in the hallway just then, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding her phone. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she smiled back at the sight of the twins and their grandmother.
“Thank you,” she said softly to Lily, squeezing her arm. “A few calls I really need to make.”
Lily nodded. “Take your time. I’ll keep the twins distracted.”
“And the clay in the studio this time?” Anna raised a brow.
“I make no promises,” Lily said, then turned to shoo the kids down the steps. “Let’s go! Clay waits for no one!”
It was an eventful walk to the studio, as the kids oohed and ahhed over just about everything.
They’d been doing this walk for some time now, and the kids had developed a routine.
They waved to passing cars, people on bikes, or those also walking the sidewalks.
They knew some of the dogs by name and, with permission, brought treats in their bags for those dogs.
They loved taking this walk just as much as Lily did.
When they arrived at the boathouse, Lily unlocked the door and they walked inside. The studio still smelled faintly of kiln heat and dried lavender, a combination Lily had always loved. Her fingers itched to wedge clay, to shape something from nothing.
Blaze darted ahead, racing Nora to a wheel.
“I’m going to make a bowl for Mom!” he yelled.
“I’m making one for Max!” Nora said. “And maybe some other dogs, too.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them!”
Lily laughed as she put her things down and flicked on the lights. The space bloomed around her, sunlight pouring through tall windows, the tables half-dusted in clay, the drying shelves lined with mugs and wonky vases from the weekend’s kids’ class.
They’d only been there ten minutes, the twins already elbow deep in wet clay, when Jess’s car pulled into the driveway. She was already out of the car and making her way toward the businesses of Vineyard Haven before Lily could flag her down.
About two hours later, Lily noticed Jess on her way back.
She was walking down the opposite side of the street, shoulders rounded against the wind, her arms full of folders and fliers.
Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she wore a tailored blazer that stood out in the laid-back attire of the rest of the island.
“Jess?” Lily stepped onto the sidewalk, waving. “Hey!”
Jess turned, blinking, and then smiled when she recognized her. She waved at her aunt and crossed the street.
“Hi!” she called. “Wow, hey.”
“Come inside,” Lily said. “You look like you could use a break.”
Jess hesitated, glanced down at the stack in her arms, then crossed the street. “I really shouldn’t. I’ve got a whole second round of pitches to make in Oak Bluffs.”
“Nonsense,” Lily said, already opening the door wider. “Come in. Say hi to the kids. We’re headed back to the house soon anyway. Join us for lunch?”
Jess looked like she might say no. But then Blaze appeared at the window, holding up something that looked more like a lump of chewed gum than a bowl and yelling, “Grandma, look what I made!”
Jess’s expression cracked into something more genuine. “You know what?” she said, sighing. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll come.”
The walk back to the house was easy. Jess held one of Nora’s clay-covered hands in hers, not caring about the mess, and Nora launched into a detailed description of her dream to build a pottery-themed playground.
“You could have swings made of bowls!” she declared. “And a climbing wall shaped like a teacup!”
Jess chuckled, tired but entertained. “Honestly, I’ve heard worse pitches today.”
When they reached the house, Anna was curled on the porch swing, still mid-call. She waved, mouthing a thank you to Lily before ducking back inside.
The kitchen came alive quickly. Lily tied on her old apron, and Blaze and Nora were dispatched to wash their hands. Jess leaned against the counter, her blazer tossed over a chair. She had the faint look of someone freshly unplugged, her shoulders slowly dropping, breath deepening.
“So, what brings you to Vineyard Haven today?” Lily asked, chopping tomatoes as Jess arranged slices of turkey on sourdough.
“Marketing,” Jess said. “Or trying to, anyway. I printed these fliers offering small business consulting and social media services, just an hour here or there to help people get set up or grow. I figured I’d try walking into shops, talking to owners.”
“That’s brave,” Anna said, now off her call and slicing cucumbers beside Lily. “How’s it going?”
Jess exhaled. “Not great. I’ve had a whole lot of polite no’s and one guy who asked me if I could teach his nephew to TikTok dance.”
Anna winced sympathetically. “Yikes.”
Jess shrugged. “It’s okay. I mean… it’s not. It’s hard. But I expected it to be.”
Lily turned to really look at her. The fine, tired lines. The muted determination.
Jess had always been crisp, magnetic, running her old firm like a force of nature. Since the divorce and losing the business, that magnetism had dimmed, but the core of her was still there. Strong. Stubborn.
“You’ve had a heck of a year,” Lily said gently.
Jess looked down at the turkey slices. “Yeah. I have.”
Anna leaned in. “You want to talk about it?”
Jess was quiet for a second, then let out a breath.
“It’s been like… the slow unraveling of everything I thought I built.
First, the marriage. Then the firm. You know what’s wild?
I don’t even miss him, not really. I miss the version of me that thought the future was secure. That thought that I’d earned safety.”
Anna reached over, touching Jess’s wrist. “You did earn it. Life just…”
“Doesn’t care,” Jess finished, smiling faintly. “Yeah.”
The twins’ laughter floated in from the backyard. A thud, followed by Blaze shouting, “That didn’t even hurt!”
Lily smiled, but her gaze stayed on Jess.
“I miss the firm,” Jess admitted. “I miss waking up with a full schedule. I miss having goals that stretched farther than just next month’s bills. Right now, I feel like I’m in this fog of… figuring it out. Reinventing. Surviving.”
“That’s not a small thing,” Anna said.
Jess shrugged. “Some days I believe I’m doing okay. Other days I worry I’ve peaked. That I lost the only version of me that worked.”
The silence after that was gentle, filled with kitchen sounds, bread on a cutting board, the hum of the fridge, the twins’ voices outside. Lily stirred a bowl of homemade vinaigrette and turned back to Jess.
“What would you do,” she asked slowly, “if you could start fresh? Not rebuild the old life. Build a new one.”
Jess looked thoughtful, then smiled softly. “I’d help people tell their stories. Real ones. Honest ones. Small businesses, artists. I’d create strategies for them to actually grow, not just go viral. Something meaningful.”
Lily nodded, heart starting to tick faster.
She’d been thinking about her own next steps, too. The studio classes had lit something up inside her again. Saturday mornings were no longer enough. She wanted more clay under her nails. More of the laughter, the mess, the warmth of that space alive with people.
She wanted to do something with it, and she needed help.
“What if I hired you?” Lily said.
Jess blinked. “Hired me?”
“Yeah,” Lily said, pulling off her apron and facing her squarely.
“To help with the studio’s social media.
And maybe more, if it goes well. I want to get serious about expanding: more classes, weekday workshops, even maybe a gallery night.
I need someone who knows how to make it visible.
Someone who gets people and can help me build this. ”
Jess didn’t speak at first. She looked stunned, like someone had offered her a lifeline in the middle of a storm.
“I’d pay you, obviously,” Lily added, unsure if she’d overstepped.
Jess shook her head slowly. “No, I mean, yes, of course. I just… I wasn’t expecting this.”
Anna grinned. “Say yes, Jess.”
Jess laughed under her breath. “How much are we talking?”
Lily hesitated. “What do you normally charge?”
Jess paused, then said, carefully, “I’d usually quote $800 a month for a small account. That includes strategy, content creation, analytics, and weekly consults.”
Lily nodded. “Done.”
Jess blinked again. “Just like that?”
“I know your work. And I believe in this. You’d be helping me build something that matters. This is what David would’ve wanted, too. He was always telling me I should call you for input on how to grow on social media.”
Jess looked like she might cry. She didn’t.
Instead, she exhaled, steadying herself, and nodded. “Okay. Deal.”
The three women stood there for a moment in the middle of the warm kitchen, surrounded by the scent of fresh tomatoes and the sound of kids laughing in the yard. For Lily, something had shifted. She felt it in her bones, the subtle click of the next chapter falling into place.
She looked at Jess, who was now sitting a little taller, a little brighter.
She looked at Anna, steady as always, their shared grief never far but softened by days like this.
And she looked out the window, to the twins tumbling through sunshine.
Maybe this was what healing looked like.
Not a return to what once was, but a choice, every day, to build something new while also honoring her late husband.
She couldn’t help but think that it would become something beautiful soon.