Chapter 55
Ella
Tuesday
“I’ve always loved her tea set, these delicate flowers painted on every piece,” I say, twirling the teapot in my hands. “She always offered me a cup of tea after our piano lessons, whether it was summer or winter.”
“Tea was indispensable,” Miles says, letting out a laugh.
He stretches to try to reach the vase that Miss Amara kept on top of her kitchen cabinet. “I don’t know how she even managed to put it there in the first place,” he says with effort, and I laugh while providing moral support.
Every summer, Miss Amara would place that vase on the entryway dresser, refreshing the flower arrangement every week. And every winter, the vase returned to its spot on top of the kitchen cabinet, untouched until the next summer.
I’m writing down the kitchen utensils on the inventory pages when Miles finally grasps the vase, stepping down carefully from his tiptoes on the chair.
It’s just as his t-shirt catches on one of the cabinet’s small handles that I glance back at him, and my mind flashes to the distant memory of the first time I noticed his birthmark on his lower back.
The first time I invited him to be my company, the seed of a companionship that would quietly flourish.
“Got any flowers?” he asks, smiling back at me, holding the vase, and I grin at the wordplay he doesn’t know he made.
We spend the next hours visiting every corner of Miss Amara’s house and every memory made there, the ones we were part of, and the ones she told us about.
The bean bag in the living room reminds us of a night when the three of us walked back from the CIC and she invited us for dinner.
Pumpkin soup, pumpkin pasta, and pumpkin dessert (pumpkins were growing proudly in her garden).
I had burned part of that bean bag’s fabric when I accidentally leaned it against the fireplace.
I remember apologizing so much and offering to find her a new one, but Miss Amara and Miles just laughed.
She decided she liked this one and would keep it. She kept it all these years.
“Alright, the next step will be to help with packing and transporting,” I say, reviewing the sheets attached to the clipboard in my hand.
“Will you stay around to help?” Miles asks.
“I will. I talked to the Research Institute and there’s no problem in me staying away for a few days and working from home on my stuff.”
“That’s great,” he says, looking out the window. The sky is already darkening, and the street lamps are on. “I have to go back to New York tomorrow morning. My agent scheduled a meeting with the filmmakers of the movie I’m writing music for.”
My smile fades a little. I wasn’t expecting him to leave so soon. “Is everything going well there?”
“It is,” he smiles. “If everything goes as planned, you’ll be able to see this movie in a few of months.”
“That’s exciting, Miles. I’m glad you’re happy, and your career is going so well.”
He offers me a tender smile and we head for the front door silently. We had already decided it was time to leave (and that our task was complete), but that decision was made before I knew he was leaving Evermere in a few hours. And now a heaviness I can’t quite name tugs at my chest.
Please don’t leave.
“Let’s deliberately decide to stay friends,” he suddenly proposes.
A proposal that sounds really good to me.
“Let’s stay friends,” I say, and he curves his lips up. “I’ll be one phone call away if you need me. We can update each other on life resolutions, and not just disappear.”
He stretches out his arm to shake my hand, but then slowly moves closer to me and wraps me in a quick, tight hug.
We leave Miss Amara’s front door.
I’ll be back tomorrow. But Miles knows that this house won’t look the same when, and if, he returns. So, he lingers, staring through the window from the outside in, taking a mental picture of the place as we once knew it, still unchanged in shape, but no longer held by her presence.
I watch him do it and give him the time he needs. His eyes wander over the exterior of the house. He’s tucking it away dearly in a drawer of his heart.