I smiled and yet didn’t correct her.

“You want a late breakfast?”

“I’d absolutely love a late breakfast.”

She had made hash browns and scrambled eggs that morning, and I sat in the yellow kitchen with my bay-soaked hair and worn T-shirt and shorts.

“The party was great. Really great. Did you know Uncle Cotton was gonna be here?” I said.

She grinned as if she held a deep secret. “Yep. I knew he was speaking at the book festival, so I invited him. He’s not usually one for parties, but when I told him you were here, he wanted to surprise you.”

“He did. It took me longer to recognize him than it should have, which is embarrassing considering he’s my uncle. My only uncle. How … synchronistic that he’s in town.”

“Well … he’s actually here quite a bit.”

“He lives in Asheville.”

“Yes … .” Birdie turned away and changed the subject. “So, did you meet anyone new?”

“A few people.”

“Did you meet that journalist?”

I shook my head. “What journalist?”

“There is this woman from Coastal Living who is doing an article about ‘Coastal Houses with Legends,’ and she wants to do a bit about the Summer House. I’ve been nervous about letting someone come asking questions about my home, but I guess it’s better coming from me than from rumor.”

“Oh, I think that’s fantastic. I bet you have great stories.”

Birdie shrugged. “We’ll see.”

“Well, can I ask you something?”

“About the house?”

“No … do you know Micah Reynolds or Otis Shepherd?”

Birdie squinted at me. “Why are you asking?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Cotton was part of that summer group y’all hung out with?”

“The names don’t matter. Only what we did matters.”

“Well, he told me those names and I just wanted to talk to them. You know … just talk to them.”

“Well, Otis died years ago, but Micah lives out on Route 66. His office is downtown. He’s an incredible man; he’s our county commissioner, with eight kids and untold number of grandkids who still live here and are involved in the community.”

I moved my eggs around without taking a bite. “Do you think he’d care if I asked him about that summer?”

“No, he’s very proud of what happened. He believes we changed his life and the life of his family. He has great stories. I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you. But, Ellie, don’t expect him to tell you what you want to know. He won’t. He just won’t. If you want to know about what we did, what that summer was like for all of us with the movement, he’ll tell you.”

“Is he African-American?” I asked.

“Of course.”

I nodded and stood to kiss her. “Thanks for the breakfast.”