Marigold offers the design for our new billboard, going up later this week, featuring groceries, grub, and gators—it’s her best work yet. Even better, it’ll go up near Sunny’s parking lot. Travelers won’t miss it, and, for once, they’ll have a choice.

Grady arrives around the same time as Mom and Tilly, and they funnel into our meeting together. They meet Marigold, Peter, and Wren before rounding to the boys. Christie trips over his Birkenstocks, rising to greet her. Roy looks a bit more guarded, his hand hovering in front of his crotch awkwardly as I introduce him, and he barely speaks, as if afraid the wrong thing might come out. Good.

Mom is quite lovely, with her fiery hair, full curves, and bright personality, and Wade must think so too. Their handshake lingers between them, and we’re all surprised by the gentleness in his voice when he says, “We love Marnie and hope you find a home here with us too. You and Tilly.”

He then offers Tilly his hand for a high-five. Tilly giggles, slapping it and saying, “You’re a funny bunny.”

Wade straightens at this and hesitantly glances at his friends, as if worried they might start referring to him this way. “Better than being a grumpy Gus, I suppose.” He scratches his head, mussing his combed hair.

A bubbly laugh erupts from my sister, filling the room. Grady and I share an amused grin.

“How sweet,” Mom coos. “I appreciate it, Wade. Once I’m settled, I’ll give you all free haircuts to say thanks.”

All three men run their hands over their heads sheepishly.

Leaving the rest to run the store, Wade takes us to The Marshes to tour the trailers available to rent. A wide dirt road leads into the woods, flanked by trailers on each side, starting with Wade, Roy, and Christie’s. Though somewhat dated, the homes are clean and well-maintained. An older couple waves at us from their screened-in front porch. Children Tilly’s age wobble on bikes up and down the lane. A family hangs wet beach towels on clotheslines as we pass. It’s a cozy, homey place tucked in and tidy.

Wade has a two and a three-bedroom to rent, but Mom’s quick to take the larger home.

“In case you ever need a place, Marnie,” she says, “and if you don’t, it’ll make a lovely craft room for Tilly and me. I make my own jewelry these days.” Her pink fingernails dance over a chunky beaded necklace in greens and pinks, matching her army green pants and delicate pink blouse. Mom has always been thrift-store chic.