The driver parked and the engine quieted. He felt his heart constrict at the prospect of walking into his parents’ house. At twenty-one, he was once again a kid living with mom and dad. He released a heavy sigh. It hadn’t worked out well the last time. Cooper closed his eyes at the memory. His overdose at eighteen had broken the family; but it had proved their redemption and the first step toward rebuilding. They’d all made strides forward since that summer after his graduation. He’d gone off to college, Linnea had left for California, and his father had gotten sober. Since he’d left, they’d had a tenuous peace. Cooper hadn’t spent more than two weeks under their roof. God help him now.

He pushed open the car door. Brown wing-tip shoes stepped on the sandy soil as he emerged from the car. His tan suit pants were creased, his white button-down was wrinkled, and he smelled of stale food. He’d dressed formally, in the British style, a signal to his parents that he wasn’t a boy any longer. That he’d changed.

Lifting his arms over his head, he stretched, breathing in the salt-tinged air, moist and refreshing. The front door of the house flung open. Looking up, he saw a blur of pink. Heard his mother’s voice.

“He’s here!”

LINNEA ALWAYS FELT a surge of goodwill when she walked through the gate into Emmi’s garden. Gardening had become a bond shared between Emmi and Flo since they’d shared the house, and it served as an inexpensive intervention that kept Flo occupied as her dementia progressed.

Hope enjoyed the garden too, Linnea thought as she spied Hope on her knees digging in a patch of earth. The puppy was deliriously happy digging nearby, spraying dirt. Both little girls would need a bath tonight. Emmi had been her salvation the past week, cheerfully volunteering to babysit a few hours in the mornings while they gardened. Emmi had set aside a small plot just for Hope so she could have her very own garden and allowed her to choose what she planted.

Linnea slipped on her mask and entered the enclosed garden, making a beeline for Hope. “What have you got there?” she asked the little girl, curious to know what she’d chosen.

Hope turned, her face blooming with color when she saw Linnea. She rose and rushed to Linnea, wrapping her arms around her legs, making her love the child even more. Something had changed in the past week between them, a connection that went beyond their being cousins, or even caretaker and child. Linnea wasn’t sure if Cara had been right and it was the puppy, or perhaps it was due to Hope’s time outdoors in the garden, or their cooking together, or the hide-and-seek game of notes with John, or a combination of all, but Hope had blossomed from the recalcitrant, listless child into the sweet, bubbly one she’d remembered. Her homesickness had abated, replaced with a joy for life that lifted the spirits of all she encountered.