“He was a wild child. A boy in a man’s body, loving everything and everyone. Your grandparents—her parents—would never have approved of him. He would have never become a real part of the family. She would have had to separate from all she knew to be with him. He lived a … different life.”

“Well, maybe that’s why she loved him.”

“Of course it’s part of why. But this was not a man you marry. But she gave her heart to him. When I realized her heart was gone, it was already too late for both of them.”

“How?”

Birdie stood now. “That’s enough for now, Ellie. Because here is the thing—you need to take what I’ve told you and find out if it’s enough.”

I heard my mother’s voice in this woman. “I know. Mother always told me that I wanted too much, that I was too much, that with me—everything was too much. You think you can want too much?” I asked. “Really want too much so that nothing is ever enough?”

“Of course.” Birdie held up her hand. “Absorb this, Ellie. It’s a lot to know and feel and understand. Can’t it just be enough to know that your mother loved and lost?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I really don’t. But I’ll try. But maybe, Ms. Birdie, maybe you can also want so little that you settle for something that isn’t even close to enough.”

“Maybe so, Ellie.”

“Will you tell me a little bit about the legend of your Summer House?”

“Legend?” She laughed and shook her head. “Rumor is more like it. They say that when you stay at this house the truth is revealed, that you see your life in a new way and understand. I just think that being by the bay does that. Nothing magical. Just a searching people usually come here with. But don’t tell anyone I think that—it’s a nice legend to pass down. Really that’s what happens—rumor becomes story becomes legend. So let’s just keep it that way.” She winked at me.

“I’m in.”

I walked across the lawn to the guesthouse, hearing Birdie’s question in the rustling palm fronds. Was it enough?

Mother lost; everyone does. When she was in love—when anyone is in love—the heart cannot imagine its loss. When I first met Rusty, I of course could not imagine hurt or loss would come from his words, which had then been nothing but sweet.