“Marina,” I say, as she contemplates the fiftieth pen she’s examined since we strolled down this aisle, “If you don’t start filling this basket, I’ll fill it for you.”

She purses her lips. “I do love school supplies.”

“Prove it.”

She drops the multicolored pens into my basket.

“Fill it, Marina. Seriously. Get everything you need to start the G&G project.”

A few steps later, she adds more, seemingly more unrestrained every time something drops in. Good. After Ashe, I want her to feel better. Or at least, distracted.

“Tell me more about Wade,” she says, ogling measuring tapes. She chooses a pink one and tosses it in the basket. “Why exactly is he off-limits around the rest of the family? Or is that too personal? Just say it’s none of my⁠—”

“Nah, asking questions falls under our truth policy. Right? I didn’t want to discuss it with Marigold in the car. Family drama stresses her out.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Thinking about Uncle Wade and where to begin, I’m overrun with memories. “Dad and Wade have always had a strained relationship. Dad was always the responsible one, Wade the partier. My grandfather died, leaving the farm to Dad and half of the G&G and the trailer park to Wade. He took that as a slight.”

“Well, it is a swamp, but it’s surprisingly beautiful there.” She circles the notebook aisles, picking up binders and putting them back. It’s a struggle, focusing on my story with her nibbling her bottom lip over every decision and smiling as ideas come to her. I swear, I could watch this woman all day without saying a word. Her eyes cut to mine, urging me to continue.

“Um, yeah. In Granddad’s defense, Wade’s never been good with money or responsibility… at least not until Maureen came into his life.”

“Oh, tell me about Maureen.” She perks up, finally deciding on a hardcover spiral notebook with tabbed sections, interior pockets, and a pen holder. She holds it up. “Green, like the lily pads around the swamp.”

“Perfect.” I smile as she drops it in. “Maureen was Wade’s… everything. He was at a particularly bad place in his life, drinking a lot, pissing people off, until finally, one day, he took off on his motorcycle for a cross-country adventure. Three months later, he came back with Maureen.”

“A whirlwind romance.” She tugs her jean jacket off and ties its arms around her waist, making me remember my hands there last night and wanting them there again. Damn it, Grady. “That’s sweet.”