They did none of those things.
One family left a note in the guest book.
Thank you for sharing a home that feels loved.
I read it five times.
Then I called Ellen.
“You were right.”
“I’m documenting this call.”
“Don’t become insufferable.”
“Too late.”
By August, our family gathered at Cape May again.
This time, there were three cars.
Plenty of room.
I arrived last.
When I pulled up, everyone was on the porch.
Brenda came down the steps.
For one absurd second, I remembered the morning she had shut the car door.
Then she stopped a few feet from me.
“Do you want help with your suitcase?”
Not, Let me take that.
Not, You shouldn’t carry it.
A question.
“Yes,” I said.
She took the bag.
Inside, Gregory was cooking.
Poorly.
Jennifer was giving instructions.
Douglas had taken the children for ice cream.
On the kitchen counter sat a strawberry shortcake.
