Page 73 of WASP

“Always enjoyable. I was about to have a glass of iced tea. Want some? I made a fresh batch of my lavender blend.”

The thought of Lynn’s perfectly blended lavender tea on her palate made her smile with delight. “Count me in,” Annie said, sliding into one of the weathered wooden rocking chairs that adorned Lynn’s front porch, still donning their Fourth of July-themed pillows. Lynn ducked into the house, returning a moment later with two tall glasses, ice cubes clinking against the sides. She handed one to Annie, taking the seat next to her.

Annie took a sip, the floral notes mixing with bergamot and citrus in a swirl on her tongue. “That’s delicious, Lynn. Everything you make is delicious. Have you ever considered opening a café?”

Lynn laughed quietly, little creases forming at the corners of her eyes as she smiled. “A time or two, yes,” she said softly.

Annie appreciated that Lynn was a woman of few words. She could probably learn a lesson or two about being more selective with hers.

She shifted in her seat, taking another sip. “What’s stopped you?”

Lynn smiled, leaning back in her chair, thinking before responding. “I could start a business, but I could also just let a hobby stay a hobby. I get more enjoyment when there isn’t the added pressure of making money. I’ve never had the stomach for business, not like you and Max.” Lynn shot her a knowing look over the rim of her glass, droplets of condensation rolling down the side.

A cunning smile unfurled across Annie’s lips. “You know about Michigan.” She stated it as a fact, not a question, on purpose.

Lynn’s smile turned conspiratorial, her hazel eyes glinting in the morning light.

“I know about Michigan,” she confirmed.

“Oh, thank god.” Annie let out a sigh of relief. “How did you figure it out? I’m so bad at keeping secrets and this has been a big one, so I’m going to pat myself on the back for not spoiling it.”

“A few months back, Max mentioned the land to me after some of our mail got mixed up. Since then I’ve kept an eye out, and wouldn’t you know, all roads lead to Michigan.” She let out a laugh. “I did warn Max when she moved in, but the walls of the house are pretty thin.”

Lynn’s words lingered between them. Heat spread across Annie’s cheeks as she wrapped her hand around the cool glass, hoping, for Lynn’s sake, that she’d only overheard their more business-oriented conversations and nothing else.

“Has she asked you to go with her yet?” Lynn asked smoothly.

Annie’s gaze snapped up, Lynn’s smile spreading even wider.

“I’ll take your silence as a no. Would you say yes if Max asked?”

“Absolutely.” The word shot out of her mouth before Lynn had even finished her sentence. “I don’t want to scare her by bringing it up so soon, especially since so much is already changing for her.”

“Max leaves breadcrumbs, Annie.”

Annie scrunched her nose. “What?”

“Max is incredibly independent. She doesn’t always vocalize what she wants right away because she’s so used to doing life alone. It takes her a little time to find the words, but if you look closely, she always leaves a trail—little things she drops along the way that tell you how she’s feeling.”

Annie considered Lynn’s observation, thoughts running through her mind instantly: the spare key that was now her key, their routine of having breakfast together on the stairs, the way Max had moved the AC unit into the bedroom for her.

The breadcrumbs were there. They wanted the same future. Only Max was building it quietly, brick by brick.

“Do you think if I point-blank ask her about moving she’ll freeze?” Annie chuckled, already imagining her girlfriend’s response to being caught off guard.

“I think you have the uncanny ability to help her grow by approaching life in a way that contradicts her instincts.” Lynn took another sip of her iced tea. “I think if anything she’s afraid to ask you to leave your roots in search of her own.”

Annie’s lightning-fast response dripped with her bluntness. “Well, that’s dumb. I’m so ready to get out of here. I hate being here.”

Lynn laughed. “Wellington Point has always had that effect on some. My late husband Dan felt the same way,” she said, leaving it at that.

“It’s not like this town is all bad. I mean, look at my mom; she thrives here. It’s just—this place has always made me feel like I don’t belong. Every time I come back here, all I can see is the hypocrisy. In a town that prides itself on community, everyone is practically a stranger, and no one seems to care. I’ve always struggled with the superficial nature of it all,” Annie admitted, unsure if that thought was meant for Lynn or herself. “How come you and Dan stayed here if he didn’t like it?” she asked quietly.

Lynn took a long sip from her almost empty glass. “Because I was too afraid to plant my roots anywhere else. Wellington Point has always been my home. I’m a product of this sometimes fucked up tiny town, just like you are,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “But now, with the hindsight of age and experience, I can’t help but think that maybe I am meant to leave and plant my roots someplace else.”

“There’s still time. If you could move anywhere, where would it be?”

Lynn gave her a long, assessing look—not a judgmental one, but one that let Annie know she was considering her question. “I have no clue.”