“Mrs. Mathers!” Vivien cooed. “I’m going to cry again.”
“You never stopped,” Kate teased.
“Can I help it that I’m emotional?” Vivien pulled back and cupped Tessa’s face. “You are radiant. Truly.”
Dusty shook the judge’s hand and signed the marriage license.
He certainly wasn’t the Dustin Mathers she’d seen drunk on the beach as a teenager. Life had changed him and, in his fifties, Dusty was a steady rock who listened more than he talked, with the quiet competence of a therapist who specialized in helping grieving people cope with loss.
He wassogood for Tessa.
He handed the pen to his bride with a slight bow of formality, and she signed her name with a flourish that made them both laugh. Watching it, Kate felt something loosen in her chest.
How had this happened? For the first time in their lives, Tessa was on steady ground, and Kate was in…freefall.
The thought came and went like a cloud across the sun, and Kate pushed it aside. Today was not about her.
They took pictures in front of the courthouse with much laughter and positioning in the sunshine. There was one that Kate knew would end up framed—Tessa and Dusty and Olive, the toddler reaching for Tessa’s face with both hands, all three of them laughing. A brand-new family.
“Dusting!” Olive tugged Dusty’s hand when her little feet hit the ground. “Ice cweam!”
“That’s right,” he said. “This young lady was promised ice cream, and I am not a man who breaks promises to a two-year-old.”
Tessa and Dusty each took one of Olive’s hands and gave her a swing in the air as she squealed with pure delight.
“Go,” Vivien said, shooing them. “Enjoy. Take a thousand more pictures. We’ll see you later at the Summer House for a family celebration.”
Kate watched them walk to Dusty’s truck, a bounce in all their steps. When Tessa turned and caught Kate’s eye, she mouthedI love you. Kate blew her a kiss and held it together until the truck pulled out.
Then she took off her glasses and wiped another tear.
“Oh, honey.” Vivien put a hand on her back. “You okay?”
“Of course!” Kate put her glasses back on and blinked the courthouse parking lot into focus. “Just, you know. My sister got married in a government building and I’m standing in a parking lot crying about it. Totally normal day.”
Vivien laughed softly. “I think what we need is coffee and a debrief. You got in so late last night, there was no time to talk. Unless you’re anxious to get back to Eli. My brother has been waiting not-so-patiently for your return from Ithaca.”
Kate was longing to see him, but she needed some Vivien time, too.
“Yes.” She exhaled. “Coffee. Please.”
The café wasbright and airy, with white subway tile and succulents on every surface. A chalkboard menu offered an array of caffeine-related concoctions, but Kate, being Kate, ordered it plain and black. She’d flown from Ithaca by way of a delay in Charlotte, all on four hours of sleep with an emotional teenager in tow.
She needed straight, unadulterated caffeine, although Vivien’s lavender latte smelled as comforting as their long-standing friendship.
They sat outside at a small iron table under a striped awning. The morning heat was asserting itself. After all, it was the first week of August in the Florida Panhandle, which meant the air had the consistency of warm soup. That alone was an adjustment after a few weeks in upstate New York, where it rarely got this hot or humid.
While they settled in, Kate asked about everyone at the Summer House. She and her daughter, Emma, had taken an Uber from the airport and arrived late last night, determined to make it to town for Tessa’s civil ceremony.
Their conversation drifted over each family member—two families, one house, lots of stories—but they spent most of the time talking about Kate’s mother, Jo Ellen.
“She’s made up her mind,” Kate said, smiling at the thought that somehow didn’t surprise her. “She and Maggie are not leaving that apartment above the Summer House garage.Ever. And I’m overjoyed.”
“It’s good for her to be here with her dearest friend. Good for my mom, too,” Vivien said. “Although I have to say the indomitable spirit of Maggie Lawson seems to mellow more witheach month she spends at the beach. Credit to your mom and what Eli calls the magic of Destin.”
Kate nodded, fully in agreement that both of the nearly eighty-year-olds seemed happier here. “It’s coming on a year since my dad died,” Kate said. “And my mom needs to be done sitting around her house in Ithaca and wallowing in grief.”
“What will you do with that house?” Vivien asked.
