“Wow. Very accomplished women,” Emma said.

“We believe in strong women around here,” SuAnn said, setting her empty plate on the table.

“Sorry I didn’t have any coffee,” Emma said, suddenly feeling like a terrible host.

“No problem. We invited ourselves at a very inopportune time,” Julie said, standing up. “And we aren’t going to keep you from what you need to do anymore.” Janine stood too, but SuAnn wasn’t budging until Julie walked over and pulled on her arm. “Besides, I need to get to work and Janine has classes to teach. Come on, Mom.”

“Already? We didn’t get a very long visit. I wanted to know more about you, Emma.”

Emma wasn’t ready to share much about herself, especially her recent past. She was thankful that Julie was practically dragging her mother out of the cottage.

“She has work to do, Mom. Let’s leave her to it.”

SuAnn finally stood and walked toward the door. “We’ll be sure to come back and take the tour next week, so we’ll get plenty of time to chat then.”

Janine rolled her eyes. “Let’s not threaten her, Mom.”

Emma loved the back-and-forth relationship that these grown daughters seemed to have with their mother. She wished that she’d had that, even though she could tell there was some frustration and old baggage there. Her mother had never really been motherly, and her grandma had belonged in a mental ward or possibly prison. Definitely not the stuff funny sitcoms are made of.

She said her goodbyes to the women, thankful that she didn’t have to reveal much about herself during the short visit. As she watched them walk away and disappear into the mossy trees, she wondered if she’d be able to keep her cover for very long, or would someone recognize her and reveal who she really was.

Dixie stood at the end of the dock and waited for her son’s boat to come back. He’d taken a small group of businessmen on a tour of the marsh, but he said he’d be back in time to meet her for lunch. It was long overdue, and she was looking forward to it.

Of course, she had an ulterior motive, as mothers often did. It was hard for her to see her son making what she thought was a mistake, and she was going to try to say something about it. Whether he appreciated her uninvited input was another question altogether.

She didn’t like to think of herself as a meddler, but as she’d gotten older, she’d come to accept that part of herself. Aging had given her the ability to say what she wanted and just be considered an old woman with no filter between her mouth and brain.

Sometimes, it was refreshing that no one seemed to expect as much from her anymore. Even though she knew she could contribute just as much to society as anyone else, the unfortunate side effect of aging was that people thought you were all washed up at a certain age. It wasn’t true, but she tried to use that stereotype to her advantage when she could.