Chapter 18
Maggie had watched the driveway for the better part of an hour.
She stood at the kitchen window, a cup of coffee growing cold in her hands, her eyes fixed on the long gravel road that led from the main highway to Beth and Gabriel's farmhouse.
Paolo had tried twice to coax her away, once with the offer of a fresh cup, once with news that Alexander was awake and looking for admirers, but she couldn't make herself move.
They were close. Lauren had texted more than an hour ago from Sturbridge, which was near the Massachusetts border.
“You're going to wear a hole in the floor,” Chelsea said, appearing at her elbow.
“I can't help it. When my mother is in a hurry to see her great-grandchildren, she’ll drive above the speed limit.”
“For heaven’s sake, Maggie. Lauren and Sarah have some say in controlling her. You make your mother sound like she’s impossible.”
Maggie stared at Chelsea. “Excuse me? Have you met my mother?”
Chelsea laughed and then pointed out the window. “The RV!”
Maggie's heart leapt. There it was—the Garrison Getaway, that ridiculous beige behemoth that her mother had insisted on buying. It lumbered up the gravel drive like a friendly whale, dust billowing behind it, and Maggie was out the front door before she had time to set down her coffee cup.
The RV rolled to a stop, and for a moment nothing happened. Then the door swung open and Grandma Sarah emerged, stepping down with the careful precision of a woman whose knees were stiff but whose dignity would never allow her to admit it.
She wore a purple tracksuit and white sneakers, her silver hair pinned back. Her eyes found Maggie immediately, and her face softened into something that looked almost like relief.
“We made it,” she announced. “I told everyone I'd get us here in one piece, and I did.”
“She only almost killed us twice,” Lauren said, appearing behind her.
“Three times,” Sarah corrected, climbing down after her sister. “You're forgetting the merge near Hartford.”
“That wasn't my fault. That truck came out of nowhere.”
“It was in a lane. Going the speed limit.”
“It was lurking.”
Maggie laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in her chest, and pulled her mother into a hug.
Grandma Sarah felt smaller than when Maggie last hugged her, more fragile somehow, but her grip was still strong and her perfume was still the same floral scent she'd worn for as long as Maggie could remember.
“I'm so glad you're here,” Maggie whispered.
“Where else would I be?” Grandma Sarah pulled back and studied her daughter's face with sharp eyes. “You look tired.”
“I am tired. It's been quite a week.”
“It's been quite a lifetime from what I hear.” Grandma Sarah glanced toward the house. “Where are my great-grandchildren? I didn't drive fifteen hundred miles to stand in a driveway.”
Lauren had reached Maggie by now, and she wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Maggie breathed in the familiar scent of her daughter's shampoo. “How was the drive? Really?”
“Educational. I learned that Grandma has opinions about every rest stop between here and Florida. I also learned that Sarah snores.”
“I do not snore,” Sarah protested, joining the huddle.
“I have recordings.”
“Inadmissible.”
Maggie pulled Sarah into the embrace as well, holding both her daughters close. These women who had once been small enough to carry on her hip, who had once needed her for everything, were now grown with children and lives of their own. And yet, in moments like this, they were still her babies.
“Where's Paolo?” Lauren asked, looking toward the house.
“Inside with the twins. Beth is resting, she was up half the night with Charlotte, and Gabriel is trying to fix something in the barn that apparently couldn't wait.”
“Some things never change,” Sarah said. “There's always something in the barn that can't wait.”
Chelsea had bounded down the porch steps and was making her way toward the group, her face bright with excitement. “You're here! Finally! I was starting to think you'd driven to Canada by mistake.”
“Canada is north,” Grandma Sarah said. “We went north. It was a reasonable concern.”
Chelsea hugged each of them in turn, Lauren, Sarah, then a more careful embrace for Grandma Sarah. “How are you? How was the trip? Did you survive being trapped with two Wheeler women for three days?”
“Don’t listen to any of their complaints. The ride was perfect. You’ll see when I get the two of you to join us for the ride back.”
Maggie looked at Chelsea who was as shocked as she was. “There is no way Chelsea and I are going to ride south in that thing.”
“We’ll see,” Grandma said as she winked at Lauren and Sarah.
A figure appeared from the direction of the orchard, walking toward them with purpose. Emily Wheeler, her boots muddy and her jacket dusted with something that looked like tree bark, approached the group with her characteristic directness.
“The RV made it,” Emily observed. “I heard it from the north section. The engine has a distinctive sound. Slightly unbalanced, probably needs a tune-up.”
Grandma Sarah turned to look at her, and a smile spread across her face. “Emily. There you are. I was wondering when you'd appear.”
“I was assessing the pruning needs on the older trees. Thomas showed me this morning.” Emily stopped a few feet from the group, her posture slightly stiff but her expression open. “Hello, Grandma Sarah. Hello, Lauren. Hello, Sarah.”
“Hello yourself.” Lauren stepped forward and, after a brief hesitation, pulled Emily into a hug. Emily stood still for a moment, then relaxed slightly. “Beth told us you've been amazing. That she doesn't know what she'd do without you.”
“I’m happy I can help.” Emily paused.
Sarah hugged Emily too, a quick embrace that Emily tolerated with good grace. “It's good to see you, Emily. Really good.”
Grandma Sarah approached Emily and took her hand. “I heard what you've been doing here,” Grandma Sarah said. “I bet your mother is very proud of you.”
Something flickered across Emily's face. “My mother is adjusting. She calls every day to check on me.”
“That's what mothers do. We never stop worrying, no matter how old our children get.” Grandma Sarah glanced at Maggie. “Isn't that right?”
“Absolutely,” Maggie agreed.
They made their way toward the house, a chaotic procession of rolling suitcases and tote bags and Grandma Sarah's oversized purse, which she refused to let anyone else carry.
Emily fell into step beside Lauren, answering questions about the orchard in her precise, detailed way.
The farmhouse rose up before them, white clapboard and black shutters, smoke curling from the chimney.
It looked like something from a painting, Maggie thought.
Like the kind of home people dreamed about but rarely found.
Paolo met them at the door, his warm smile a welcome beacon. “Finally! The travelers have arrived. Come in, come in. The house has been too quiet.”
“Too quiet?” Chelsea laughed. “There are two newborns here. When has it been quiet?”
“You know what I mean. It's been missing something.” He kissed Maggie on the cheek as she passed, then turned to greet the others. “Sarah, Lauren, you look wonderful. And Mrs. Garrison...”
“Paolo, I've told you a hundred times to call me Sarah.”
“And I've told you a hundred times that I was raised to respect my elders.”
“Elders.” Grandma Sarah snorted. “You make me sound ancient.”
“Not ancient. Distinguished.”
“Better.” She patted his cheek as she passed. “You've always been my favorite of Maggie's husbands.”
“I'm not sure I believe that, but I'll take it for now.”
The living room was warm and cluttered in the way that only a house with newborns could be. Baby blankets draped over every surface. A basket of tiny clothes waited to be folded by the fireplace.
And there, in the middle of it all, was Beth.
She sat in the large armchair by the window, Alexander cradled against her chest, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion. She wore an oversized sweater that had seen better days and her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, but when she looked up and saw her sisters, her whole face transformed.
“You're here,” she said, her voice cracking. “You're actually here.”
Lauren crossed the room in three strides and dropped to her knees beside the chair. “Of course we're here. Did you think we'd miss this?”
“I thought you might get lost. Or stranded. Or drive each other crazy and turn around.”
“We did drive each other crazy. But we didn't turn around.”
Sarah approached more slowly, her eyes fixed on the bundle in Beth's arms. “Is that Alexander?”
“This is Alexander.” Beth shifted slightly so they could see better. “He just ate, so he's in a milk coma. Charlotte's upstairs sleeping, she had a rough night.”
“He's beautiful.” Sarah's voice was barely a whisper. “Beth, he's absolutely beautiful.”
“He looks like Gabriel. Same nose, same chin.” Beth smiled down at her son. “Charlotte looks more like me. Poor thing.”
“Stop that,” Lauren said. “You're gorgeous and you know it.”
Emily had positioned herself near the doorway, observing the reunion with quiet attention. Beth caught her eye and smiled.
“Emily, come here. You're part of this too.”
Emily hesitated, then moved closer to the group. “I don't want to intrude on family time.”
“You are family,” Beth said firmly.
Grandma Sarah had made her way across the room with the determination of a woman on a mission. She stopped in front of Beth and held out her arms.
“Give me that baby.”
“Grandma, you just got here. Don't you want to sit down first?”
“I've been sitting for three days. I want to hold my great-grandson.”