Forever Friends

by Sarah Mackenzie

  She sent a text to Renee.

  Feeling a little freaked about this storm—how about you?

  It took a moment for her friend to respond.

  Not SUPER worried yet… Come over here if you get nervous though, ok?

  Well, that was a comforting thought anyway. She could always ride the storm out with Renee if things got really bad. Sadie set down her phone. At the very least she needed to go search for some flashlights and batteries. But they were in the garage. And the last time she went in there she was chased by a spider.

  Okay, maybe it was just scuttling off to make a new web, but it felt like it wanted her blood.

  Suppressing a shiver, she took Grandma Hester’s worn diary out of her back pocket. She’d been carrying it around with her everywhere, and at this point, she’d read it so many times, she practically had it memorized.

  Sinking into the couch, she cradled it on her lap, treating each word, sentence, and paragraph with utter importance, maybe even reverence. She searched the entries for some sort of direction.

  Sadie still couldn’t get over the fact that Grandma had wanted to open a pie shop and then never seen her dream come to life.

  Maybe Sadie’s mom, Hester’s daughter, would have some answers.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Melissa answered on the third ring, slightly breathless. “Just got back from a committee meeting at the Smithsonian. Did I tell you about it yet? It’s quite engaging.”

  “I think you mentioned it.” There was so much Sadie wanted to unload, from Ethan, to the storm, to the pie shop venture. But she was on a mission.

  “So, I found Grandma’s diary. It was in this funky old steamer trunk in the attic that was full of photographs, recipes, that kind of stuff.”

  “The trunk Mom and Dad always kept in their bedroom? I searched for it after they died but I figured they’d unloaded it at some point.”

  “Nope, it was in the attic.”

  “Odd. Wonder how it got up there. That thing must have weighed a ton. But you found Grandma’s diary, huh? She was such a character, Mom was. Anything scandalous?”

  Sadie smiled. “No, nothing like that. It’s mainly just little summaries of her days. But I want to know more about Grandma’s bakery idea.” She paused, giving her mom a chance to jump in.

  But her mom was silent.

  “Her what?” she finally asked.

  “Grandma wrote about wanting to open a bakery,” Sadie said. “It was her dream. She had these adorable logos sketched out and everything. She thought her specialty could be pie.”

  Melissa sighed, “Well, strange. I don’t recall her ever mentioning it.”

  “She wrote about it quite a bit in her diary,” Sadie prompted again.

  “I know how much pleasure she got out of baking for the Fourth of July bake sale every year, but no, she never talked about opening up a bakery of her own.”

  Lincoln abandoned his cartoon and jumped on her lap. She ran her fingers through his curls.

  “Well, she did mention that Grandpa Hank was kind of against it.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Grandpa Hank was a little old-fashioned and they weren’t really living in the big city, now were they.”

  “But Grandpa Hank always told me to follow my dreams, before he died,” Sadie ruminated. “Why didn’t he encourage his own wife?”

  “I’m sure these details are somewhere in her diary, but you know your grandpa loved your grandma beyond measure and always wanted to spoil her to bits. He probably worried about her being overwhelmed, overworked. I know he wanted to give her the best life imaginable.”

  Sadie thought of her own Ethan’s startlingly similar words. She delicately stroked the yellowed diary pages between her fingertips.

  Holding someone back was not the same as taking care of them. Grandma Hester knew this, Sadie knew this, and she believed Ethan knew it too.

  “Luckily times have changed,” her mother declared briskly.

  Had they?

  “Sadie, how are you really doing? Your dad and I miss you.”

  Sadie thought about the pregnancy scare, the bakery, the joys and trials of marriage, her friendship with Renee.

  “It’s been…” she hesitated, settling on, “good.” Good felt right. Hard but a good life.

  “I dreamed the baby was a girl,” Melissa offered.

  Sadie sighed. “A girl. I secretly dream that too. Well, I’d love either really.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes, mostly about Lincoln’s new habits and quirks (he’d recently called Sadie by her first name, having heard a cashier use it, and she and Ethan had burst into laughter), before Sadie said, “Mom, I have to go. I don’t know if you heard but we’re getting a hurricane.”

  “Has the tropical storm that veered by us made its way all the way up to Maine? Just like ’eighty-five?” Her mom suddenly sounded a wee bit frantic. “How did I not know this? Do you want to catch a train down to D.C. from Boston? You three can stay with us until the storm passes.”

  “I think it’s a little late for that, but thanks. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Meteorologists love to blow these things out of proportion.”

  “Just be careful, okay?” Sadie was surprised to hear the seriousness in Melissa’s voice.

  She agreed, ending the phone call. Sadie transferred Lincoln, who had fallen asleep on her lap as she talked on the phone with her mom and stroked his head, to the couch. Then, with stiff pregnancy joints, Sadie pushed herself to standing. First she had to tackle the garage and those spiders.

  But just you wait, Grandma Hester. You will get your bakery even if it’s fifty years too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Renee gasped as a screaming gust of wind picked up the cushions from her patio furniture and scattered them around the yard. She tossed her bag of groceries on the countertop and hurried outside. The wind chime’s brass pieces crashed against each other, sounding more like warning bells than melodious chords. She rescued one cushion from a tree branch before chasing the others from her tomato plants. One by one, she tossed them into her storage shed. She set the wind chimes gently across the worktable in her garage, pushing aside a pair of pink work gloves and a small succulent she’d been meaning to repot. Then she brought the wrought-iron chairs and table inside, as well, dragging each piece of furniture into the shelter and fastening the latch for extra measure. One last stop to gather the ceramic pieces of Tansy’s fairy garden before returning to the safety of her cottage.

  She continued putting her emergency provisions away in case the power ran out—bottled water, canned soup, peanut butter, and a loaf of bread—before a special news bulletin running across the TV screen grabbed her attention. Her heart raced at the sound of the alarming beeps so often associated with bad news. With a carton of eggs still in one hand, she made her way to the family room, perching on the edge of the sofa.

  For the past few days, the meteorologists had worked themselves into an ever-growing tizzy of speculation. Every hour the projected force of the winds grew, as did the anticipated amount of rain and wave height. They were even interviewing longtime residents along the coast, including a few in Cranberry Cove. She shook her head. Anything for ratings.

  “The waves came crashing right through our living room window!” Ninety-two-year-old Alma Wilson swore from the screen, referring to the 1985 hurricane. She gave the Pomeranian sleeping in her lap a loving pat on the head before raising her hands dramatically in the air. “One of the waves took our tabby cat right with it! Never saw that kitty again. Best mouser we ever had.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Gotta love a feel-good story,” Renee muttered, walking to the kitchen table, picking up the phone, and hitting Tansy’s contact.

  Please answer…

  Please answer…

  Voicemail. Again.

  She dropped the phone to her side with a quiet groan. How long was her kid going to give her the silent treatment? She’d been trying to connect with her for weeks now, but whenever she dialed,
Tansy rejected her call after one ring or two. They were getting into an absurd routine. Heartbroken, angry, and completely frustrated, Renee would then leave a terse message, asking her to please call her back.

  Tansy always followed this up with a cryptic text, usually blaming homework or saying she was about to take a nap.

  Predictably, her phone started to buzz.

  Studying for a Spanish test. Hablamos luego!

  Cute. Real cute.

  She punched her fingers into the keys. Just thought you might want to know a hurricane is headed for the Cove.

  She paused, debating whether or not to add an extra dramatic touch.

  We’re being told to take proper precautions—boarding up the house, having a shelter plan, those kinds of things.

  Well, that was all technically true. She glanced over at the breathless weather person standing out on some beach making wild gestures. Guess she shouldn’t throw stones. Turns out she wasn’t above using the storm to boost her ratings.

  Her phone buzzed once more. Tansy again.

  OMG. WHAT! I JUST LOOKED IT UP!

  Guess the dramatic really did capture people’s attention.

  With a wry smile on her face, Renee neatly typed back, Really. Figured you would want a heads-up, especially if you aren’t able to reach me in the next few days. I suspect the electricity will get knocked out.

  She laughed, wondering what scenario was more ridiculous: Tansy actually calling her or the power going out from a hurricane.

  Will you call me after the storm blows through? Nothing bad is allowed to happen to you!

  The sweet glimpse of the old thoughtful Tansy made her heart ache.

  So her daughter was in there somewhere, beneath the crop tops, secret boyfriends, and too-cool attitude. It had been weeks since they’d talked, and the realization that she hadn’t heard her daughter’s voice in so long shattered her heart.

  Tansy’s eighth birthday, that had been the last time her daughter was truly angry with her. Renee had thrown Tansy a 1950s-themed party, complete with a jukebox rental and adorable poodle skirts (sewn by Bree) for all the little girls.

  “Where’s Daddy?” Tansy had asked, giant tears rolling down her pale cheeks. She’d been wearing saddle shoes with white fold-over socks. The saddest, cutest birthday girl the world had ever seen. “Where’s my daddy?”

  “Honey, I don’t know.” They were in Renee’s bedroom, away from the happy party chatter. Elvis Presley crooned somewhere in the distance. “Maybe he got caught in traffic? Or what if a pack of llamas decided to block his driveway, and he’s stuck?”

  It wasn’t the silliest idea. Russell owned a flock or a pack or whatever of llamas in his awesome new Vermont homesteading life.

  “You never invited him!” Tansy accused. “You hate him. You did this.”

  In fact, she had called her ex two Saturdays prior, carefully dialing each number as if the right combination would yield a magical code for serenity. She’d forced herself to greet his wife as Samantha, and omit the snarky “Ms.,” and struggle through a minute of polite chitchat, before asking to speak to Russell. Her conversation with Russ mostly consisted of unintelligible stammering and awkward pauses. Despite the fact that it had been nearly two years since the divorce, her even-keeled personality still went adrift whenever they had to speak.

  But Russell had promised he’d be at Tansy’s party. He’d insisted he wouldn’t miss it for anything, and even had the nerve to ask what Tansy was “into” right now.

  The fact that he hardly knew their own daughter made Renee’s heart hurt in a whole different way. And now this.

  What. A. Cold. Bastard.

  Despite this, Renee knew what her daughter needed to hear in that moment. And she’d given it to her.

  “Uh-oh. You know what? Maybe I did forget to tell him,” she said. “I was so busy getting everything together for the party. Shoot. I’m so sorry, baby. This is all on me.”

  The little girl had instantly stopped crying, her entire demeanor changed.

  “Really?” she hiccupped, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Mmmm,” Renee murmured in reply, dancing around offering a full-out lie.

  Tansy gave her a hug and hopped off the bed. “That’s okay, Mommy. I forget things, too, sometimes. I’m going to go play with my friends now.”

  And that was that. All anger gone. No grudges, no hard feelings.

  If only a small fib could fix things now.

  She just wanted a chance to explain her side of the situation. Let Tansy know why the Colorado announcement had hurt her feelings. And why she was so worried about her schoolwork, her health, her happiness, and her future for crying out loud. Okay, maybe she was a wee bit angry too.

  And what about Bree? She longed to talk it all through with her sister about Tansy, Dan, everything.

  But her sister had never called to apologize for her outburst at the Spring Fling Gala, and Renee had learned over the years that sometimes Bree went through moods and the best plan was to let her open up in her own time. It was frustrating but she loved Bree and knew how she operated.

  Renee racked her memory bank, trying to remember every time her younger sister had acted distant in the past. She’d definitely been moody while waiting for her college acceptance letters to arrive—Renee could remember getting a hairbrush tossed in her direction when she asked if she’d heard from any schools yet. Oh, and then there was that month where Bree was convinced she was going to lose her job. She thought she had overheard her boss talking about downsizing and feared there wouldn’t be room for her anymore at the small store. She’d definitely been distant then.

  Well, shit.

  Maybe this wasn’t about a new boyfriend.

  “Breaking now from Massachusetts,” longtime news anchor, Chip Dierking, said. He was a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a baritone voice. “There are reports of high winds and flooding, which meteorologists say are only growing in intensity as this storm moves its way up the coast. Joining us now is our own meteorologist, Leslie Daniels, reporting from the Cranberry Cove Harbor.”

  It gave her a jolt hearing the name of their little town on national news.

  “Leslie, what’s the latest you can tell us?”

  Leslie Daniels’s highlighted hair was whipping in the wind, completely shielding her face as she tried to talk into the microphone. “Thanks, Chip. What wild weather we’ve been having this year, huh? We’re closely monitoring the system now. We think it’s a real possibility the Maine coast could be hit with a category one hurricane by nightfall. And the small town of Cranberry Cove appears to be ground zero. All residents are encouraged to take precautions—protect your property and, most importantly, yourselves. It’s always better to be overprepared than under.”

  Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, she instinctively picked up her phone and dialed Dan.

  “Renee?” Dan answered on the first ring. “Are you watching the news?”

  “I am,” she sighed. “Unsettling, isn’t it?”

  “Spoken like an understated Mainer. Listen, Moe and I are coming over now. I’ll help you get prepared.” How did he know the right answer before she had to ask? “We’ll be there in ten minutes. Sound like a plan?”

  “But what about your cabin? And the boat? Are they going to be all right?”

  “All good, or as good as I can get them. Time to concentrate on you,” he said. “We’ll ride this out together.”

  Renee tried to say thank you, but her voice was caught somewhere between her heart and her mouth. She was too overcome with relief and gratitude. Quickly, she got to work, packing a large cooler with perishables and located long-forgotten flashlights and an inherited storm radio. Thank God Tansy was safe in Southern California. She paused with a rueful smile. This was the first time she was appreciative of the fact that her daughter was thousands of miles away.

  Things are picking up. Looks like it’ll be a category one, she texted her d
aughter.

  Renee thought of a summer afternoon many years ago, when she and Tansy had gotten caught in a ferocious thunderstorm during a drive home from Portland. She’d pulled her Toyota to the side of the road and dug a battered box of Uno cards from the glove box. They’d played for twenty minutes until the rain eased. And when they spotted a rainbow just as they were pulling onto Seashell Lane, Renee took it as some sort of cosmic sign that she’d done good. She’d been a good mother, staying calm and protecting them both.

  Now, with the assurance that Tansy was safe on the West Coast, she could turn her phone off. Smarter to conserve the battery in case the power went out. But first, one last try. She dialed her best friend, her closest confidante. The person who had always made her feel the safest.

  “Renee?” Bree answered on the first ring. “Oh my God. This is so scary! Do you have the cottage all boarded up? Do you need help? Are you freaking out? I keep looking out the window wondering if we’re going to end up like SpongeBob, living in some freaking pineapple under the sea.”

  “Bree.” Renee had never felt such pleasure, such relief, in saying her sister’s name. “I’m so glad you picked up.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Renee resisted the urge to remind her of how distant and standoffish she’d been.

  “Come to my house,” Bree said. “It’s a lot farther from the ocean and up on a hill. We’ll be safer here.”

  “I’ll be there!” Renee paused. “Um, Dan is actually on his way over. He’s going to get my cottage all safe and sound. Is it okay if he comes, too?”

  “Dan as in Dr. Dan Hanlon?” Bree’s voice lifted.

  “The one and only.”

  “I want to tease you so badly right now, but I’ll resist since there’s a hurricane coming our way and all.” They both laughed. God, it felt so freaking good to laugh with Bree again. “Don’t spend too much time prepping the cottage, okay? Things can be replaced, people can’t.”