Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The email arrived while Anna was grading student portfolios at the Shack.
She’d commandeered the corner booth—Bernie’s booth, technically, but he was at a dentist appointment and had graciously granted her “temporary territorial rights”—and spread her students’ work across the table.
Charcoal sketches, watercolor experiments, one ambitious attempt at perspective that had gone gloriously wrong.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, expecting another text from Bea about dinner plans.
Instead—an email from her property manager.
Hi Anna — Quick update on your tenants. They’ve asked about extending their lease another six months, through February. Same terms, same rent. They love the place and want to stay. Let me know if you’re interested and I’ll draw up the paperwork. — Frank
Anna stared at the screen.
Six more months. Same rent. Through February.
She’d been planning to move back into her house after school started.
That had been the deal—renters through the end of summer while she and Bea stayed at Meg’s place temporarily since they’d come back from Florence early, then back to normal life.
Back to her own space, her own studio, her own routines.
But now—
She looked around the Shack. Joey was restocking napkins with his usual intensity. Stella sat at a table near the window, editing photos on her laptop. Through the kitchen doorway, she could see Tyler plating an order, moving with the easy rhythm he’d developed over the summer.
This place had become hers in a way she hadn’t expected.
Not hers alone—theirs. The whole family’s. But Anna had found a role here that fit. She wasn’t the disruptive one anymore, the one who rearranged furniture and implemented “systems” that nobody wanted. She was... useful. Present. Reliable.
She liked being reliable. That was new.
Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Bea.
Can we get Thai for dinner? Meg’s working late and I don’t want to cook
Anna typed back.
Sure. Meet me at the Shack in an hour?
Already here. Back booth. Brought homework.
Anna looked up. Sure enough, Bea was settled in the booth behind her, textbooks spread across the table, earbuds in, completely absorbed in whatever she was studying.
When had her daughter arrived? How had Anna missed her walking right past?
She was losing her edge. Or maybe just relaxing into things.
The email glowed on her phone screen. Six more months. Same rent.
She did the math in her head.
If she kept the rental income through then, she could afford to drop to half-time teaching this semester. The department had been asking—budget cuts, declining enrollment, the usual—and she’d been resisting because she needed the full salary. But with rent coming in...
Half-time teaching meant more time at the Shack. More time to be the steady presence they needed. More time to learn the rhythms Margo had been trying to teach them all summer.
More time to actually be here, instead of always rushing somewhere else.
“You’re thinking loudly.”
Anna looked up. Stella had appeared beside her booth, laptop tucked under her arm.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t. I was taking a break anyway.” Stella slid into the seat across from her. “What’s going on? You’ve got that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re doing math in your head and not liking the answer.”
“I’m liking the answer fine. That’s the problem.”
Stella raised an eyebrow—a very Tyler expression, Anna noticed. “Explain.”
So, Anna did. The email, the extended lease, the half-time possibility. The idea that had been forming, slowly, over weeks of working shifts and covering gaps and learning to be someone the Shack could count on.
“I could be the anchor,” she said, the words coming out before she’d fully decided to say them. “That’s what we’ve been missing. Margo was the anchor for fifty years—always here, always steady, always the person everyone could rely on. And when she stepped back...”
“Things got wobbly,” Stella finished.
“Things got wobbly. Because nobody stepped into that role. We were all just... covering. Taking shifts when we could. Squeezing the Shack around our real lives instead of making it part of our real lives.”
“And you want to make it part of yours.”
Anna looked at her niece—this girl who had appeared from nowhere and somehow become essential to all of them.
“I think I already have,” she said. “I just didn’t realize it until now.”
Stella was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she smiled.
“You should talk to Meg.”
“About what?”
“About the house situation. If you’re keeping your renters, you and Bea need somewhere to live. And Meg’s been basically living at Luke’s for weeks now.” Stella shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to make it official. Both ways.”
“Both ways?”
“Meg moves in with Luke for real. You and Bea take over Meg’s place for real. Everybody stops pretending they’re in temporary situations when they’re obviously not.”
Anna stared at her. “When did you get so observant?”
“I’ve always been observant. You lot just weren’t paying attention.” Stella stood, tucking her laptop more securely under her arm. “Talk to Meg. I bet she’s been waiting for someone to give her permission to do what she already wants to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Stop managing everything and just be happy.” Stella headed for the door, then paused. “Also, tell her I said the pesto grilled cheese is better than the original and she should stop being modest about it.”
“I am not telling her that.”
“Your loss. It’s true.”
The door swung shut behind her.
Anna looked back at her phone. The email. The math. The possibility.
Then she looked at Bea, still absorbed in her homework in the back booth. Her daughter, who had spent a year in Florence learning to see the world differently, and who had come home to find... what? A mother who was finally figuring things out?
“Hey,” Anna called.
Bea pulled out an earbud. “Yeah?”
“How would you feel about staying at Meg’s place a little longer?”
“Define ‘a little longer.’”
“Through the first semester. Maybe longer.”
Bea considered this. “Would I still have my own room?”
“Yes.”
“Would you still be weird about my music?”
“Probably.”
“We’d stay closer to Stella?”
Anna smiled. “Three houses down.”
“Then I’m in.” Bea put her earbud back in, conversation apparently concluded.
She gathered her students’ portfolios, stacking them neatly. She’d finish grading later. Right now, she had a sister to find.
Meg was at Luke’s, because of course she was.
Anna parked on the street and sat for a moment, looking at the bungalow. It was a nice place—small but well-kept, the garden slightly overgrown in the way that suggested someone who cared more about tide charts than landscaping. But she did notice some new basic plants and smiled. That was new.
Through the front window, she could see Meg at a table, laptop open, phone pressed to her ear.
Working. Always working. Even when she was supposed to be relaxing.
Anna got out of the car and knocked on the door.
Luke answered, dish towel over his shoulder, smelling faintly of garlic and lemon.
“Anna. Hey. Meg’s on a call, but she should be done soon. Come in?”
“Thanks.”
The inside of Luke’s bungalow was exactly what Anna expected — surfboards in the corner, marine biology texts on the shelves, a tank of something bioluminescent glowing softly in the living room.
And everywhere, small signs of Meg’s presence.
Her sweater on the couch. Her coffee mug on the counter.
Her organization systems slowly infiltrating Luke’s comfortable and steady presence.
“She’s basically moved in, hasn’t she?” Anna said.
Luke smiled, a little sheepish. “It’s been gradual. I don’t think she’s noticed.”
“She’s noticed. She just hasn’t admitted it to herself yet.”
“Probably.” Luke gestured toward the kitchen. “Want some tea? I just made a pot.”
“Sure.”
They sat at the kitchen table while Meg’s voice drifted from the other room—something about quarterly projections and timeline adjustments. Luke poured tea and didn’t try to fill the silence, which Anna appreciated.
“I’m going to ask her something,” Anna said finally. “And I need you to back me up.”
“Okay.”
“I’d like to keep my renters. Extended lease through February. Which means Bea and I need somewhere to live.”
Luke’s eyebrows rose. “You want to stay at Meg’s place.”
“I want to stay at Mom’s place. Our mom. Sam.” Anna wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Meg’s been holding onto it because she thought... I don’t know. That she was supposed to. That keeping it empty except for her meant keeping it ready for Mom to come back someday.”
“And you don’t think Sam’s coming back.”
“I think Sam does whatever Sam wants, and the rest of us have spent too many years waiting for her to want us.” Anna heard the bitterness in her own voice and tried to soften it.
“I’m not angry. Not anymore. I just think it’s time for that house to be a home again.
A real home, with people living in it. Not a shrine. ”
Luke nodded slowly. “And you want me to back you up when you tell Meg this.”
“I want you to be honest with her. About the fact that she’s already living here. That her life is here now—with you, not in that house. And that letting me have it isn’t abandoning Sam or the family or anything else she’s convinced herself it would mean.”
The call ended in the other room. Footsteps approached.
“Anna?” Meg appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking tired but pleased. “When did you get here?”
“Few minutes ago. Luke made tea.”
“Luke always makes tea.” Meg kissed him on the cheek as she passed, the gesture automatic, intimate, the kind of thing people did when they’d been together long enough to stop thinking about it. “What’s up?”
Anna took a breath.
“I’d like to keep my renters,” she said. “And I want to move into Mom’s house. Officially. Me and Bea. Through the first semester, at least. Maybe longer.”
Meg went still.
“You want to—”
“I want to live there. Make it a home. Stop pretending any of us are in temporary situations when we’re obviously not.
” Anna met her sister’s eyes. “You’re living here, Meg.
You have been for weeks. Your toothbrush is in his bathroom and your spreadsheets are on his table and you come back to Sam’s house like it’s an obligation instead of a home. ”
“Anna—”
“Let me finish.” Anna stood, moving closer to her sister.
“I know why you’ve been holding onto it.
I know you think if you keep it ready, Sam might come back someday.
Might want to stay. But Sam doesn’t want to stay anywhere.
That’s who she is. And waiting for her to change has cost us too much already. ”
Meg’s eyes were bright and she blinked to hold back the tears. She didn’t speak.
“The house should have people in it. Bea doing homework at the kitchen table. Me painting in the living room. Noise and mess and life. And of course you, too, if that’s really where you want to be.
” Anna reached out, took Meg’s hand. “But we know it isn’t.
And that’s okay. Let me give it that. And let yourself have this. ”
She gestured at the bungalow. At Luke, watching quietly from the table. At the life Meg had already built without admitting it to herself.
“I don’t know how to let go of it,” Meg whispered.
“You already have. You just haven’t said it out loud yet.”
They stood in Luke’s kitchen, sisters who had spent years circling each other, finally meeting in the middle. In the truth.
“Okay,” Meg said finally. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Meg squeezed her hand. “Move in. Make it yours. Make it a home.”
Anna hugged her—quick and fierce, the way their family did it.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Just... take care of it.”
“I will.”
They pulled apart. Luke was smiling, soft and fond, watching them figure things out.
“So,” he said. “Anyone want more tea? Or should we celebrate with something stronger?”
“Something stronger,” both sisters said at once.
And Luke laughed, and opened the good wine, and they sat together in the kitchen that was becoming Meg’s real home.