“No,” Linnea agreed with a laugh.

Anna shrugged. “I figure if 2020 could change my life, then I could change my name. It’s Anna now. Straight, simple, like me.”

“Well, Anna,” John said with exaggeration, “may I carry one of your suitcases in?”

Linnea watched as John, in his inimitable fashion, immediately broke down Anna’s chilly wall. He had her laughing about something, and she readily stepped back and allowed him to hoist the enormous suitcase with enviable ease.

“Back room?” John asked Linnea as he passed.

“Yes. Let me get the door.” Linnea sprang into action and hurried ahead of him, up the stairs to push wide the front door while juggling the potted plant. “Follow me. She’ll be in Palmer’s room.”

She walked into the seaward bedroom. The walls were paneled with pecky cypress and a door opened out to the deck with a view of the ocean. The coastal décor, rich with texture, was fit for a man or a woman. The furniture was vintage: a curved wicker headboard on the full bed, Palmer’s old painted wood dresser, and the small wooden desk under the window where, years back, Toy had studied for her GED under Lovie’s tutelage.

Linnea set the potted plant on the desk and turned to see John taking in the room.

He said, “It’s funny in a cool way how you still refer to the bedroom as your dad’s.”

“It’s the way it’s always been,” she replied. “Back when Grandmama Lovie lived here, these were Cara’s and Palmer’s rooms.” She pointed to the bedroom across the hall, currently occupied by Hope. “They shared the bathroom. Years later when Cara returned to the island, she stayed in her old room while Toy Sooner, who was pregnant, stayed here in Palmer’s old room. I don’t mind telling you it annoyed him to no end.”

“Why would he care?”

“He didn’t want Lovie out here in the first place, then to find out an unwed mother was her caretaker—well, you know my father. Always worried about what other people might think. Anyway, Grandmama Lovie had her own way, and it was the best thing that ever happened to Toy. Changed her life… Now it’s Annabelle’s turn.”

“Anna’s…” they said at the same time, then laughed.

“This sweet cottage has welcomed many visitors in its time,” Linnea said wistfully.

“Which way?” called Anna’s voice from the front door.

“Here!” shouted Linnea, and hurried from the room. John followed, pausing to scan one of the many black-framed family photographs.

“Hey, that’s the Fourth of July party.” John drew closer, then pointed and laughed. “Is that you?”

Linnea knew the photograph he was looking at, had looked at it many times the summer they’d dated. It was the Fourth of July party when they’d first met. Well, in truth, John didn’t remember her, but she’d sure remembered the handsome Peterson brothers in their prime, all bronzed from surfing. They’d breezed through the party as a courtesy to their mother, wolfed down burgers and shrimp, and headed straight back out without talking to anyone. Emmi had been furious.