“No,” she says, taking her phone from the pocket of her jacket. “I need to do this myself.”

Taylor walks out onto the bow to give Willa some privacy.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Willa. Oh God. Willa.” The tears in her mother’s voice make her cry harder. “I’ve been worried sick and I’m furious with you, but right now I have never been happier to hear your voice. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I threw my phone in the lake,” Willa says. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’m sorry I judged you and demanded you change your life because I didn’t like your choices. I’m just . . . so sorry.”

“Where are you right now? Are you in a safe place?”

“We’re still tied to the ferry dock at Sapelo Island in Georgia,” Willa says. “But we’ll be heading for Brunswick tomorrow morning. We got thumped pretty hard by the outer bands of the hurricane, but the boat is fine. Taylor and I are fine.”

“Good. Now . . .” The strength has returned to her mom’s voice, and Willa braces for a different kind of storm. “Don’t you ever ignore me like that again.”

“I promise.”

“From now until you reach Key West, I expect regular updates. From you, not your Instagram.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And another thing . . .” In the pause that follows, Willa racks her brain to think of what else she’s done wrong, but she draws a blank. “I broke up with Steve and on Monday morning I start as a teller at Civista Bank.”

“Wait . . . what?”

“You were out of line, but you were also not wrong,” her mom says. “My choices affected you in ways you didn’t deserve. I should have been your role model, not the other way around, and I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey, Mom? I love you, do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you, do you love me?” her mom replies, and Willa’s smile reaches all the way down to her heart.

As her mom fills in the details about how Mrs. Donoghue helped her get the job and let her borrow a pantsuit for the interview, Willa thinks about all the unbelievable things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours and how this—her mother—might be the most unbelievable thing of all.

Taylor

WILLA STANDS ON THE BOW as Taylor drives Whiskey Tango Foxtrot toward a slip in the marina. She’s never actually done this before—that’s always been Willa’s job—but if the boat can survive a hurricane, it can survive Taylor learning to dock. She tries to envision herself gliding neatly into the dock, hoping that if she can imagine it, she can do it. In reality, Taylor turns the tiller too soon, bumps the piling, and kind of bounces into the slip. She feels like she might die of embarrassment, but Willa gives her a thumbs-up. “You did it!”

“That sucked.”