Linnea looked at Anna as she lustily put a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Anna had lost the dull pallor and the cloud of gloom that had hovered over her when she first moved in. She was still a slob in her room, but she was making efforts to join in cleaning the house and never delayed chipping in her fair share of expenses. So this was going to be the new normal at the beach house, she thought.

“Sometimes it’s easier not to struggle upstream and simply go with the flow.”

Anna reached out with her mug. “I’ll drink to that.”

They clinked mugs.

Linnea said, “Look, I get it. You and Cooper are both adults. It’s awesome if you like each other. As his big sister, I think you should know something, though. Cooper used to party a lot. And he’s been quite the ladies’ man.”

“Okay.” Anna had put down her mug and was listening intently.

“But that part of his life is over,” Linnea said, stressing her words. “Cooper had a life-changing event at eighteen.”

Anna breathed out. “I know. The drug overdose. He told me.”

“Oh. Good.” Linnea was glad he had. But she had more to say. “He’s grown so much since then. Mature beyond his years, you could say.” She looked up again and caught Anna’s attention. “But he has a soft underbelly. When he cares, he cares a lot. And here’s the thing. Take it from one who knows. When you move in with someone, things get serious fast.”

She pointed her finger at Anna in a nonthreatening way. “Remember this. If you break his heart, you’re not just ruining one relationship.” She moved her hand and added a finger to indicate two. “You’re ruining two.”

chapter ten

During these days of isolation, it was all the more important to spend time outdoors, especially when the glowing sun broke through the darkness and filled the sky with pink and golden rays.

LINNEA’S FAVORITE TIME of the day was the very early morning when the dawn song of nearby birds pierced the night’s silence. She’d lie in bed and listen to the first clarion call, a blend of joy and bravery—I’m alive, this is a new day, and this is my territory. She could get behind that. After a few strident calls, the song would be returned by another bird, over and over, a simple duet until other neighboring birds joined the chorus. One of the benefits of staying at home was not having to rush out of bed, to dress and dash to work. She could lie there and appreciate the concert of a new day’s birth.

At length she rose, yawned, then went to her bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She slipped into her yoga attire and heard Luna pawing at her crate.

“I see you, baby. Come on,” she crooned as she undid the bolt. “Let’s go out.”