She didn’t seem to notice as she eyed the pile of newspapers on the porch. The stairs creaked as I hurried up and unlocked the door.
“I did everything that she said. The flowers just… don’t like me,” I mumbled, shouldering it open.
Margot was already inside when I remembered the giant ball of fur that was more wrecking ball than dog. Door shut, I grimaced and sent her a quick apology as Easton barreled through the house and tossed his slobber-soaked ball at Margot’s leg. It landed with a splat, sticking for a second before rolling to the floor in a trail of slime.
I groaned. “Hopefully that wasn’t expensive.”
She stared down at his panting face, frozen, and for a moment I feared that we might have broken her. Then, she laughed. Throaty at first—as if it had been a while—she grew breathless as she bent over and took Easton’s face in her hands.
“Is this the same puppy you got as a graduation present?”
I watched her, dumbfounded, as she kicked off her heels and plunked onto the floor of my foyer. Easton practically flopped over into her lap.
“Er… yes. Easton,” I replied, an unavoidable smile lifting my lips as his tongue dangled out the side of his mouth.
Margot scratched behind his ears with surprising tenderness. “I can’t believe he’s so big. He was a menace even at twelve pounds.”
“He’s mellowed out,” I fibbed.
Easton promptly rolled onto his back, smacking the floor in between her knees with a heavy thud. Margot laughed again, louder this time, and shook her head.
“You always pick the misfits.”
Something about the way she said it made my chest ache. I busied myself kicking off my own shoes, muttering, “Says the girl who took the tiniest clown fish at the county fair home.”
“Mr. Darcy lived for six years,” she countered proudly.
Her gaze wandered as Easton settled down. She stood and drifted toward the living room, pausing at the photographs tacked to the wall. One was crooked—a sun-faded snapshot of us five squeezed onto the Morning Bell couch, arms linked, mugs raised. Wes’s hair was still in springy coils like he used to keep it, dark spirals catching the camera flash, Serena looked as sophisticated as ever, and Teddy’s smile could have powered the whole town.
Margot’s hand hovered over the photo, not quite touching. “You kept this up,” she said softly.
“Why wouldn’t I?” My voice cracked more than I wanted it to.
Margot didn’t answer, instead studying the image like it was the first time she’d ever seen it. Then she turned away briskly, heading into the kitchen without another pause.
“You’ve barely changed anything,” she observed, opening a cupboard. “Same mugs. Same lace curtains. Same smell. You really never get sick of this place?”
“I don’t know how I could get sick of home,” I said.
She harumphed, noncommittal, and pulled down two mismatched mugs. “Tea?”
“Sure…” I replied quietly and leaned against the doorway, watching her fuss over my kettle and waiting for the moment she realized it’s long been broken.
For a split second, the years between us felt like they’d dissolved, leaving only the familiar cadence of Margot in my kitchen, making herself at home. But it was all a mirage. There were far too many things left unsaid and too many gaps from years apart that could never be filled. As much as I wanted to latch onto this familiar feeling, I couldn’t kid myself. She was only going to leave again.
They all did.
Easton whined, nudging my knee with his nose. I scratched his head absently, gaze drifting back to the photo. My heart ached with both loss and something fragile—something new that I didn’t have words for yet.
Margot handed me a mug of what looked like room-temperature water. “You’ve got that faraway look,” she noted lightly.
I shook my head and forced a laugh. “Just thinking about the festival. And the napkins.”
She sat at the kitchen table, took a sip, and nearly spat it out. “Oh, that’s terrible.” Margot scowled and peered into the mug like it had offended her. “It’s cold. And… dusty?”
“I’m not much for tea.” I shrugged and placed my mug down, venturing to the fridge. “That was my grandmother’s thing. Actually, I don’t know how old those tea bags are—you probably shouldn’t drink any more of that.” I shut the fridge with a wince—the shelves were mostly empty anyway—and swiped both mugs from the table.
Margot’s chair squeaked and wobbled underneath her as she shifted. “Oh. I’m… sorry. I could have sworn…”
