Epilogue
Melissa
The lake was quieter than it had been in July.
Most of the summer crowds had vanished, driven back to classrooms and offices by the turn of the calendar.
School had started on Tuesday—Lila’s first day of second grade, complete with a new backpack, new shoes, and a packed lunch that June had insisted on making.
Now it was Sunday, and the three of them had the lake almost to themselves.
Melissa spread the blanket beneath an oak tree and watched June and Lila at the water’s edge.
Lila was attempting to skip stones, her small arm winding up with fierce concentration before each throw.
Most of the rocks sank immediately, but occasionally one would skip once, twice, and Lila would whoop with triumph.
“Did you see that? It went three times!”
“I saw!” June crouched beside her, demonstrating the wrist flick again. “You’re getting really good. Try to find a flatter one, they skip better.”
The light was different now than it had been in summer—softer, more golden, slanting through the trees at an angle that made everything look like a memory even as it was happening.
The air was cooler too, carrying the first hints of autumn, though the afternoon sun was still warm enough for bare feet and rolled-up jeans, at least for a while.
Melissa pulled her knees to her chest and let herself just watch.
This was new, this stillness. For years she’d filled every moment with work, with planning, with the constant calculation of what came next. Sitting quietly, doing nothing, being present—it had felt like failure. Now it felt like the whole point.
I almost lost this, she thought. I almost threw it all away.
But she hadn’t. Somehow, despite everything, she hadn’t.
A bird called from somewhere in the trees—a series of rising notes that Melissa didn’t recognize. Lila’s head snapped up.
“That’s a Swainson’s thrush,” she announced. “June taught me. They migrate south in the fall.”
“Very impressive,” Melissa called back.
“There’s also a…” Lila paused, listening. “A robin, I think? The one that sounds like it’s laughing?”
“That’s right.” June ruffled her hair. “You’re becoming quite the birdwatcher.”
“I’m becoming quite the everything-watcher. That’s what June says.”
“Did she now?”
June caught Melissa’s eye across the beach, her expression warm and sheepish. “I may have encouraged some observation skills.”
“She says paying attention is a superpower,” Lila added. “And that most people don’t use it enough.”
“That sounds like something June would say.”
Lila went back to her stone-skipping, and June made her way up the beach to the blanket. She dropped down beside Melissa, close enough that their shoulders touched, and let out a long breath.
“She’s getting good at that. The skipping.”
“She’s getting good at a lot of things.” Melissa watched Lila hunt along the shoreline for the perfect stone. “Second grade seems to agree with her. She actually wanted to tell me about her day when I picked her up on Friday.”
“That’s huge.”
“I know.” Melissa paused. “She made a friend, I think. A girl named Emmy who also likes animals. They’re planning some kind of project about endangered species.”
“Of course they are.” June smiled. “She’s going to save the world, that kid.”
“Probably.” Melissa reached for June’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching Lila throw stones and the light shift across the water. A family with two teenagers was packing up further down the beach; an elderly couple walked slowly along the shoreline, hand in hand. Normal life, happening all around them.
“I’ve been thinking,” June said after a while.
“About?”
“The catering thing. I talked to a woman at the farmers’ market yesterday. She runs the event space on Birch Street and she said they’re always looking for recommended caterers for small events.”
“That’s great, June.”
“It’s terrifying, is what it is.” But June was smiling. “I’d have to get licensed, figure out the business side, find a commercial kitchen to rent. There’s so much I don’t know.”
“You’ll learn. You’re good at learning.”
“I’m good at cooking. The rest is—” June shook her head. “What if I fail? What if I spend all this money on licenses and equipment and then nobody hires me?”
“You could start in our kitchen,” Melissa said. “Just doing a few things unofficially. Building up a client base.”
“Our kitchen,” June echoed. “I like that.”
“I can talk to a few of my acquaintances. See if they need food for a party or an event. Get you a few recommendations before you put serious money into it.”
“That sounds good,” June said. “Yes. Okay.”
Melissa squeezed her hand. “The point isn’t that it has to succeed on the first attempt. The point is to do the thing you actually want to do, instead of the thing that feels safe.”
June looked at her sideways. “When did you get so wise about career risk?”
“I told a legislative committee I was bisexual on live television. I think I’ve forfeited my right to advise caution.” Melissa smiled. “Besides, I’ve eaten your food. Anyone who doesn’t hire you is an idiot.”
“You’re biased.”
“Completely. Doesn’t make me wrong.”
Lila called out, and they looked up to find her crouched at the water’s edge, something cupped carefully in her hands. “I found a frog! Come look, come look!”
They walked down to her and she opened her hands to reveal a small green frog, no bigger than a golf ball. It sat very still, apparently stunned by its capture.
“His name is Professor Hopsworth,” Lila announced. “But I don’t know what sort of frog he is.”
“Perhaps we need to get a book on just frogs,” June said.
“A book on something other than otters,” Melissa said. “Imagine that.”
“I’ve had lots of books on other things than otters,” Lila said, a fierce note to her voice. “I already know that frogs can absorb water through their skin. They don’t actually drink.”
“I did not know that,” Melissa said.
“That’s from a book,” Lila said. “We’re going to the library for new books soon, so we can learn more new things. And she’ll teach me other things.”
“What kind of stuff?” Melissa asked, glancing at June curiously.
“Cooking stuff. Bird stuff. Maybe some flower stuff when spring comes.” Lila looked up, her grey-blue eyes serious. “She said she’s staying. For real staying, not just summer staying.”
“That’s right.”
“Good.” Lila nodded firmly, as if confirming something she’d already decided. “I like it better when she’s here.”
June and Melissa exchanged a glance, and Melissa’s heart was so full she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“So how come he’s a professor?” June asked, her voice a little thicker than it should’ve been.
Lila gave her a look that only seven-year-olds could give. “Because he looks like one.”
“Of course,” June said.
“He’s very distinguished,” Melissa said.
“I’m going to let him go. I just wanted you to see him first.” Lila stroked the frog’s back with one gentle finger.
Then she carried Professor Hopsworth to a patch of reeds near the water and carefully released him.
The frog sat frozen for a moment, then hopped twice and disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Goodbye, Professor!” Lila called after him. “Good luck with your frog life!”
June laughed, that warm, full sound that Melissa had come to love. “I think he appreciated the send-off.”
Lila nodded. “Everyone deserves a good send-off.”
Half an hour later, they packed up the blanket, collected the scattered remnants of their picnic, and made their way back to the car. Lila walked between them, and somewhere along the path she reached up and took both their hands at once, swinging as they walked, entirely unselfconscious about it.
Melissa looked down at her daughter’s small hand in hers, and then across at June, who was already looking back.
The parking lot was nearly empty now, the afternoon fading toward evening. The light had gone fully golden, painting everything in shades of amber and honey. In a few weeks, the leaves would start to turn, and the lake would be too cold for swimming.
But that was later. That was the future, coming at its own pace.
They loaded everything into the trunk and piled inside—Lila in the back, already talking about what books she wanted to read next, June in the passenger seat. As Melissa started the engine, June’s hand came to rest on her knee, warm and easy, like it had always been there.
The lake receded in the rearview mirror.
Lila was still talking. June’s thumb traced a slow circle against Melissa’s knee. The road home was familiar and the evening was gold and somewhere in the back seat her daughter was explaining, with great seriousness, why Professor Hopsworth had almost certainly been a professor of marine biology.
Melissa drove, and listened, and didn’t perform anything at all.
THE END