7. Tessa
The empty car seat in the back of Dusty’s truck added weight to Tessa’s already heavy heart.
“You’re staring at it again,” Dusty said, eyes on the road.
“Of course I am. I miss her. She’s my little buddy.” She reached over the console to touch his arm. “Don’t even pretend you don’t miss her.”
“I do,” he told her. “But if Lynda is okay with this temporary arrangement, then we have to be as well.”
Tessa sighed, understanding that Olive’s mother hadn’t changed her mind about adoption—something she could do up to the moment the papers were signed—but she’d been doing well enough to earn a forty-eight-hour off-site break from the inpatient center, as long as she stayed at her own apartment.
The two days were technically still “supervised” because Morgan had to check in twice daily with her counselor by video. Lynda approved it because the court would look favorably on Morgan having had this kind of meaningful time with Olive before signing the final adoption papers.
Dusty fought to make it happen because blocking Morgan from this visit would have been worse for the adoption than allowing it.
Tessa leaned in and whispered, “Can I ask you something?”
“Do I trust Morgan? Yes. But do I have a full tank of gas and a backup plan in case she flakes out on Friday? You betcha.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask,” she replied. “It’s about…Morgan.”
He slid her a look. “You know the rules, Tess.”
All too well. How could he keep a secret like the details of Morgan’s problem and treatment? Tessa would have to cut out her tongue and then she’d still let something out after one glass of wine with Vivien.
Which is why Dusty, not Tessa, was the therapist.
“But, like, from a medical standpoint, don’t you think I should know in terms of taking care of Olive? Is it mental? Emotional? Addiction?”
His eyes shuttered, but he fought a smile. “Not going to say.”
She gave a soft grunt. “I know that her husband and parents were killed while she was in the hospital with a newborn, and that she has no one else, and is a desperate, destroyed, depressed single mother.”
“That’s enough for you to know. When we adopt Olive, we’ll get her medical records and family health history.
” He closed his hand over hers. “I can’t and won’t tell you more, but surely the fact that she’s allowed to leave her treatment center and take forty-eight hours at her own home should give you confidence. ”
It did, but this “mom” worry was new to Tessa. And, whoa, it was intense. “We’re cutting it close on the storm, Dusty. I know she’s not in an evacuation zone, but trees fall on houses, roads flood, things happen.”
“We will have Olive for the storm. We will be safe and, no matter what, we will protect her with our lives.” He squeezed her hand. “I’d give mine for hers.”
Her heart felt like it folded in half. “Don’t make me love you more, Dustin Mathers.”
He grinned and jutted his chin toward a house covered in plywood, with big red letters sprayed on to demand: Go away, Norman!
Maybe he would, she thought glumly. Hurricanes turned course all the time…right?
She could hope.
They pulled into the Summer House driveway behind enough cars to confirm that the gang was all here.
Inside, the place was full of familiar faces, the scent of Kate’s red sauce on the stove—thank goodness, there would be dinner—and a weird hum of tension that Tessa could not remember ever feeling in this house.
Maybe once, that fateful night when the Wylie and Lawson parents had “the big blowout”—although that was a completely different house.
She’d come home from an unfortunate outing with Eli when she’d rejected his request for a kiss in the worst, most cavalier Tessa Wylie manner, only to find their little cottage had been turned upside down in a heated argument.
After that, they’d all sailed away to separate lives, until this year.
But this tension wasn’t anger or unspoken words.
This was a mix of fear and uncertainty and low-key confusion.
Atlas was on the floor mat in the living room, kicking with the focused effort of a five-month-old considering a rollover.
Pepper sat cross-legged beside him in shorts and a faded T-shirt with the silhouette of a ballerina on the front, one hand resting lightly on the baby’s belly, making soft cooing sounds at him.
Tessa stopped in the doorway and watched, caught by something in the gesture, the young woman’s voice, the gentleness of her touch. It was…maternal. Deeply natural and unconscious.
Huh. Jonah had won the lottery with that nanny.
Tessa hugged and kissed loved ones as she made her way through the room, pausing at the sight of her mother, inches from Maggie, tucked together on the loveseat, heads bent toward each other, whispering.
A flash of that memory from thirty-plus years ago—the yelling, the accusations, the fury, the fight…the insane absence of a goodbye.
Look how far these old friends had come.
She gave her mother a kiss and beamed at Maggie, explaining why they didn’t have Olive.
Eli was at the dining room table with a laptop and a slightly abused legal pad covered in scribbled notes, barely looking up to give her a wave.
How far they’d all come, she mused as she greeted Meredith and Connor, deep in conversation at the island, on her way to the stove. There, Vivien was sipping a glass of wine next to Kate, who was stirring her sauce.
“Come here,” Vivien demanded, flicking her fingers to get Tessa to move faster. “I need to look at you.”
Tessa let herself be drawn behind the kitchen island, and Vivien put one warm palm on her cheek. “What a week, huh? You good?”
“I’m okay,” Tessa said.
Kate looked over her shoulder, the spoon slowing as she frowned. “You look terrible.”
“Thank you, sis. Never forget we’re twins.”
“Olive’s with Morgan?” Vivien asked.
“Two nights. We get her back Friday morning before we head out. We have a hotel in Tallahassee. Traffic will be so much fun, right?”
“No, no, you can stay with us in Rock Hill,” Vivien said. “The sheriff’s office found a huge overnight rental and Peter’s invited anyone who wants to bunk in an Airbnb to stay there. Wine?”
Tessa shook her head. “I’ll need my wits about me to follow Eli’s instructions.”
“No kidding.” Kate rolled her eyes. “The man is on a safety and security mission. I’ll take a wine, Viv.”
While Vivien poured, Tessa grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and looked out across the open space that made up the main floor of the Summer House.
Her attention landed on Pepper, still on the mat. She’d picked up Atlas and was rocking him on her shoulder, placing soft kisses on his head.
“Isn’t she a godsend for Jonah?” Vivien asked, sidling up to her and following her gaze.
“It’s unreal. They’re connected at the soul level and she’s babysat him, what? Twice?”
Vivien nodded. “Exactly what Atlas needed, not that we don’t all love that baby to pieces.”
“And what Jonah needed,” Tessa said.
“Please.” Vivien laughed. “The only person who looks at Pepper with more love in his eyes than Atlas is his daddy.”
Tessa launched a brow. “Do tell.”
Vivien shook her head and pointed to the dining room. “Can’t. It’s showtime.”
Eli cleared his throat, standing. “Everyone’s here, right?”
“Jonah’s on his way,” Pepper called out, her voice confident in this big group of tightknit family and friends. Like…she belonged here.
Tessa shot a look at Vivien and got a definite “I told you so” eye in return.
Eli clicked on his laptop. “For anyone not obsessively checking the last update from the National Hurricane Center, Norman is now officially a cat three, cone is tighter, gusts up to one forty-five, moving north-northwest at nine miles an hour, landfall predicted east of Destin now.”
For a moment, no one spoke, even though this wasn’t news. It was…real.
“Which means we’re on the dirty side,” Connor said softly to Meredith.
“Not sure what that is,” Meredith replied. “But something tells me it’s not as fun as you think it sounds.”
The two of them locked gazes for way too long for just co-workers. So the rumors were true, Tessa thought, sharing one more look with Vivien, who just smiled.
“It’s the surge we need to worry about,” Eli continued, oblivious to the interactions Vivien and Tessa observed.
“Current projection is six to nine feet on Choctawhatchee Bay and similar on the Gulf side. Our dunes are tall enough to break that on Gulf Shore Drive—historically, they’ve held.
Tessa and Dusty, your stretch in Miramar Beach is more exposed. ”
That brought Tessa back to the moment. She closed her eyes while Dusty reported on their many, many sandbags. As if those would stop a nine-foot wave.
“It’s just a house,” Vivien cooed under her breath, putting her arm around Tessa. “If you get hit, you rebuild. It’s exactly what I told Crista, who was at DEFCON 1—or 5, whatever it is—when she left.”
“Is her new house going to be okay?”
Vivien shrugged. “Same as yours, not quite as close to the water.”
Eli threw them a look for talking and Tessa bit her lip. “Sorry, professor.”
He relaxed into a smile and continued. “Peter’s lined up an Airbnb in Rock Hill that can sleep eight comfortably and ten in a pinch on blow-ups.”
“No one will sleep that night anyway,” someone noted.
Eli nodded in agreement. “Like the name implies, it’s on rock and higher ground, so it will be safe. Right now, on the list to stay is Maggie, Jo Ellen, and —”
“Take us off your list,” Maggie said, making every eye in the room turn to her.
Jo Ellen nodded enthusiastically. “We are staying with friends in Crawfordville.”
Eli looked at the two women like they’d lost their minds.
“Excuse me?” he croaked.
Maggie shifted her sharp gaze to Kate, who’d come close to Vivien to look over the island. “Didn’t you tell him?” she demanded.
All eyes moved to Kate, who took a slow breath and held her someday-maybe-mother-in-law’s gaze. “I told you that you can have the honors.”
“You know about this?” Eli asked her.
Kate hesitated, then tipped her head. “I think it’ll be okay.”