Later, inside, we get ready for bed with the easy rhythm of people who’ve been doing this longer than we have. Calvin brushing his teeth while I wash my face, me changing while he checks his phone for messages from Seattle he’s been ignoring, both of us ending up in bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

  “Thank you,” I say into the darkness. “For tonight. For your brothers. For the sunroom. For everything.”

  “Thank you,” he says back, pulling me against him. “For taking a chance on this. On us.”

  I fall asleep listening to his heartbeat, trying not to think about how many more nights we have. Trying not to count. Trying to just be here, now, in this moment that feels perfect even though everything around us is uncertain.

  CHAPTER 22

  CALVIN

  Several days later I wake alone in the bed that still smells like Maren’s shampoo. The morning light filters through the curtains, softer than it should be for what today is. Memorial day. The day we say goodbye to Mom.

  Maren left a note on her pillow: Had to get to the bar early to set up. Be back in time for the memorial. You’ve got this. -M

  I trace the letters with my finger, then fold the note and tuck it in my pocket. Something to hold onto.

  The house is too quiet as I move through it, Laila at my heels, making coffee with Mom’s pour-over setup, the familiar ritual both comforting and painful. Through the kitchen window, I watch the rental company wrap up setting out all of the chairs on the bluff. White folding chairs in neat rows, facing the water where Mom used to sit for hours. Maren helped us to orchestrate all of this. The rentals, the timing, the logistics of grief made manageable.

  I’m outside waving off the rental company van when Dominic’s BMW pulls up the drive, polished even for a memorial. Laila sits beside me, her tail sweeping the gravel as she watches the van leave. He’s early, of course he is. Always has to be first, always has to be in control.

  He steps out looking like he’s dressed for a funeral and a boardroom meeting. Black suit perfectly pressed, and that particular tension in his shoulders that says he’s ready for whatever conflict I might bring. We haven’t spoken since the confrontation at his house. Haven’t addressed the elephant in the room wearing a Verdant State logo.

  Laila trots over to greet him, tail wagging, and Dominic bends to pet her.

  “Hey there, girl,” he says softly, and she leans into his hand before remembering her morning mission and trotting off toward the big Douglas fir by the fence, the one where Maren says she saw a raccoon months ago. Laila checks it religiously every morning, just in case today’s the day it returns.

  “Cal,” he says, straightening up.

  “Dom.”

  We stand there, two brothers who share so much history and absolutely no idea how to talk to each other anymore.

  “The place looks good,” he says finally, gesturing at the house, the fresh paint on the shutters, the repaired steps. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Maren and I handled it together,” I say.

  He shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable at her name. “Right. She’s been... helpful.”

  “She’s been everything,” I correct, feeling defensive. “She was here. Actually here.”

  “I know that,” Dominic says quietly. “I told you that myself.”

  We stand there for a moment, the morning still gray and quiet.

  “We need to talk,” I say finally. “About the sale. The cabins.”

  “I know. Theo already called me twice this week trying to get me to delay things.” He sounds tired more than angry. “And before you ask, I will consider alternatives if you can give me something concrete. But it has to be real, Calvin. Not just wishes.”

  “I’m working on it,” I say. “I’ve been talking to my financial advisor, looking at what I can pull together. Between my savings, investments, and a potential loan against my Seattle place, I could make a reasonable offer. Should have real numbers by next week or so.”

  Dominic looks surprised that I’m actually putting something together. “You’re serious about this.”

  “Of course I’m serious. It’s our family home.”

  “The developers’ offer is substantial, Cal.”

  “I know.” I meet his eyes. “But please just give me a little time to try and make this work.”

  He studies me for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do about slowing things down. But Calvin, I need something concrete soon.”

  “You’ll have it.”

  Before either of us can say more, another car pulls up. Theo’s Subaru, with Chloe visible in her car seat in the back. Perfect timing.

  “Uncle Calvin!” Chloe races toward me as soon as Theo lets her out, a single daisy clutched in her small fist, already slightly wilted. “I brought a flower for Grandma Susan. Daddy says we’re going to throw it in the water and it will find her in heaven.”

  Laila bounds over at the sound of Chloe’s voice, tail wagging so hard her whole back end moves.

  “That’s perfect, sweetheart,” I say, lifting her up. She’s light, all energy and excitement, smelling like apple juice. Her dress is yellow, bright against all the black everyone else is wearing.

  “Laila!” Chloe squeals, wiggling to get down. I set her back on the ground and she immediately wraps her arms around the dog’s neck. Laila licks her face enthusiastically while Chloe giggles.

  Theo follows, already in his black suit, looking tired. “Alex is at the restaurant, making sure everything’s ready to transport to the bar for the celebration of life gathering.”

  “Thanks for handling all that,” I say, meaning it.

  “It’s Mom,” Theo says simply. “Of course.”

  We’re still standing there, this incomplete family unit, when the distinctive roar of a motorcycle cuts through the morning quiet. Jack. He pulls up fast enough to spray gravel, pulling off his helmet to reveal hair that’s definitely too long for Mom’s taste and that grin we all know means trouble.

  “Miss me?” he asks, swinging off the bike like he’s been gone for a weekend instead of missing most of the summer.

  Laila abandons Chloe to investigate Jack, sniffing his boots with interest.

  “You made it,” Theo says, relief clear in his voice despite trying to sound neutral. We’d all been worried he wouldn’t make it in time.

  “Cutting it close, as always,” Dominic says, but there’s affection beneath the sarcasm. That’s just how they talk to each other, always have.

  “Flight from Nice was delayed twice. Mechanical issues, then weather in Paris,” Jack explains, pulling off his riding gloves and absently petting Laila. “Then I had to Uber from SeaTac to Tommy’s place in Georgetown to get my bike. Got stuck on I-5 for an hour. But I’m here.”

  “We weren’t sure you’d make it,” Dominic admits, which is as close to ‘I’m glad you’re here’ as he gets.

  “Hey, Chloe-bear,” Jack says, immediately crouching down to her level, his whole demeanor softening. “That’s a pretty flower you’ve got.”

  “It’s for Grandma,” she says solemnly, showing him the daisy. “For the water.”

  Grief passes over Jack’s face, quick and raw, before he gets control of it. “She would love that. Yellow flowers were her favorite, did you know that? She used to make me pick dandelions with her when I was your age.”

  Cars start arriving shortly after that. Neighbors who’ve known us since we were kids, friends from Mom’s book club, people she touched over the years. The crowd grows, filling the space between the house and the bluff with quiet conversations and shared memories. Chloe and Laila wander off together toward the chairs, Chloe still clutching her daisy while Laila stays protectively at her side.

  I spot Maren’s car pulling up and feel my chest loosen. She’s here. Whatever else happens today, she’s here.

  She emerges looking beautiful in a simple black dress, her hair pulled back, moving with that particular grace she has. Our eyes meet across the yard, and the world narrows to just that. Her looking at me like I’m worth crossing a crowded lawn for. She starts toward me, but Dolores Henderson intercepts her, needing to share some memory about Mom. Maren listens with patience, nodding, touching Dolores’s arm gently, even as her eyes flick back to me.

  “So that’s happening,” Jack observes, following my gaze. He’s lit a cigarette despite Theo’s disapproving look, leaning against the porch railing like he owns the place.

  “Shut up,” I say.

  “She’s good for you.” He takes a drag, exhales slowly, watching the smoke drift. “Mom always said Maren had the best heart in Dark River.”

  “Mom was right.”

  “Usually was.” Jack watches as Maren finally extricates herself from Dolores, making her way toward us through the growing crowd.

  Maren reaches us, and Jack grins at her with that particular charm he’s been perfecting since high school.

  “Well, well. Maren Strand, destroyer of hearts and pourer of drinks,” he says, stubbing out his cigarette. “You clean up nice.”

  “Jack Midnight,” she says, shaking her head but smiling. “Still making inappropriate comments at inappropriate times, I see.”

  “It’s a gift,” he says cheerfully. “Thanks for everything you’ve been doing. The memorial planning, taking care of this grump.” He jerks his head toward me. “Must be exhausting dealing with all that brooding.”

  “You have no idea,” Maren says, playing along.

  “Tragic,” Jack agrees solemnly. “You know I tried to teach him how to have fun once. Summer before he left for college. Complete failure.”

  “I’m standing right here,” I point out.

  “We know,” they say in unison, and then Maren’s laughing, a bright sound that somehow fits into this heavy day.

  “How’s the season going?” Maren asks him. “Still racing?”

  “It’s good,” Jack says, his expression shifting to something more genuine. “Competitive year. The team’s solid, and there’s talk about a full seat next year if things go well. I’ll know more after Monza next week.”

  “That’s exciting,” Maren says. “Susan mentioned you were doing well.”

  “Yeah, she kept track,” Jack says quietly. “Even when I didn’t call enough.”

  Dominic’s voice carries over the crowd, calling out that it’s time to begin, and we all move toward the bluff where the rental chairs wait in neat rows. The crowd arranges itself with the rustle of programs and quiet murmurs. My brothers and I stand at the front, the urn heavy and final in Dominic’s hands.

  Theo speaks first, because he’s always been better at this than the rest of us. He talks about Mom’s strength, her laughter that could fill a room, how she made everyone feel like family even if they’d just met. Alex follows, shorter but genuine, about her teaching him to cook, to find beauty in feeding people, how she believed food was love made visible.

  Then it’s my turn.

  “Susan Midnight was a force,” I begin, my voice rougher than I want it to be. “She raised five boys with equal parts love and boxing gloves. She ran a bar, ran a household, ran our lives even when we thought we were grown. She made a life here, on this bluff, in this house that’s seen our highest and lowest moments.”

  I pause, looking out at the faces watching me. At my brothers, each carrying their own grief. At Maren, steady and sure.

  “She made us into men who could try to do the same. To build something. To stay when it gets hard. To love even when it hurts.” My voice cracks. “To forgive, especially ourselves.”

  Dominic steps forward with the urn. We move to the edge of the bluff, all five of us, brothers despite everything. The Sound stretches endlessly before us, gray-blue and eternal, waiting.

  “To Susan Midnight,” Jack says simply. “Who loved us all better than we deserved.”

  Together, we tip the urn, watching the wind catch her ashes and carry them out over the water she loved. Chloe steps forward, throws her daisy as hard as her little arm can manage. It flutters down, a spot of yellow against the blue.

  “Bye, Grandma,” she whispers.

  We stand there for a long moment, nobody ready to move, to admit it’s over. The crowd behind us is silent except for quiet crying, the rustle of tissues. The wind picks up again, carrying the last visible traces of ash out to sea.

  Slowly, people begin to approach us. Dolores Henderson touches my arm, murmuring something about Susan’s kindness. Eddie grips my shoulder briefly, no words needed. Laila weaves through the crowd, accepting gentle pats from familiar hands. The brothers and I separate naturally, each pulled into different conversations, different memories being shared.

  Through the small crowd, I spot Maren and make my way over to her, needing the anchor of her presence.

  “Hey,” she says softly when I reach her, immediately taking my hand. “That was beautiful. Your speech.”

  “I forgot half of what I wanted to say,” I admit.

  “You said what mattered.” She squeezes my hand.

  We stand together as people start drifting toward their cars, talking about heading to the bar. Maren’s thumb traces circles on my palm, keeping me grounded.

  That’s when I notice someone walking up from the parking area. A man in an expensive suit, completely out of place here, walking with the kind of confidence that says he’s used to getting what he wants.

  “Mr. Midnight,” he calls out, approaching with his hand extended like this is a business meeting. “Cole Landry, Verdant State Wellness Group. I know this isn’t ideal timing, but I wanted to pay my respects. Your mother’s property is legendary in development circles.”

  The name clicks. This is the buyer. The wellness retreat developer Dominic is trying to sell to. Here. Now. At Mom’s memorial.

  “You need to leave,” I say, not taking his hand. Maren’s grip on mine tightens.

  Dominic appears, moving quickly through the remaining guests who are starting to drift toward their cars. “Cole, what are you doing here? The site visit is tomorrow.”

  “I wanted to pay my respects,” Cole says smoothly. “I was in the area.”

  The casual way he links Mom’s death to his business opportunity makes me want to hit him. Just clock him right here in front of everyone. But I know Mom would hate that.

  “The Midnight Wellness Retreat will be special,” he continues, gesturing at the bluff like he already owns it. “This view, the history, it’s perfect for our vision.”

  I can feel my brothers moving closer even before I see them. Jack and Alex walking over from where they’d been saying goodbye to guests. Theo following with Chloe still in his arms.

  “Get out.” Jack’s voice is sharp. “Now.”

  “Gentlemen, we’re very close to finalizing⁠—”

  “You’re leaving,” Alex says, taking position beside Jack. His usual easy smile is gone completely.

  Cole looks around at all five of us now, then focuses on Dominic. “Dom, help me out here.”

  Dominic pauses. “You need to leave. Now. This was completely inappropriate.”

  Cole stands there for a moment, confidence finally cracking. “I’ll call later about tomorrow. My condolences.”

  He walks to his Tesla without hurrying, trying to salvage some dignity. The arrogance of it, the fact that he thinks this is just a minor setback in his business deal, makes my whole body tense. Maren must feel it because she steps closer, her other hand coming to rest on my arm.

  As people resume heading to their cars, Dominic turns to us. His face is flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment I can’t tell. Theo quietly says something to Chloe about going to look at the flowers people brought, walking her a little distance away so she’s out of earshot.

  “I didn’t know he was coming today,” Dominic says once Chloe’s far enough away, his tone clipped. “Obviously that was inappropriate timing on his part. But let’s not be dramatic, all right? I said I’d look into your alternatives.”

  The dismissive way he says it, like we’re overreacting to Cole showing up at Mom’s memorial. Like we’re being the unreasonable ones. Dominic’s always been like this, treating emotion as weakness, treating business as more important than everything else. But this isn’t the time or place for the fight we need to have. Mom’s friends are trying to leave peacefully. Theo’s keeping Chloe distracted. Sometimes being the better man means walking away, even when your brother is being an ass.

  Jack steps forward slightly. “That wasn’t a mistake, Dom. Guy knew exactly what he was doing.”

  “Let’s just go to the bar,” I say before Dominic can respond, glancing at Maren beside me and taking her hand. “We’ll handle this later. Mom would want us all together right now, not fighting in front of everyone.”

  Dominic looks like he wants to say more, but he just adjusts his cuffs, that nervous tell he’s had since high school.

  Theo walks back over with Chloe, who’s now clutching a handful of wildflowers. “Ready to go see friends?” he asks her brightly.

  “And Uncle Alex’s special mac and cheese,” Alex adds, steering us all toward normal. “Remember how much you liked it last time?”

  “With the crispy top?” Chloe asks, perking up.

  “Extra crispy, just for you,” Alex promises.

  We move toward our vehicles, the moment passing without the explosion it could have been. Maren squeezes my hand as we walk to the truck, and I know she understands what it cost me to not engage with Dominic right then. To be the adult Mom would have wanted me to be, even when my brother makes it nearly impossible.

  The Black Lantern is packed by the time we arrive, warm bodies and voices filling every corner. Maren and Lark have transformed it into exactly what Mom would have wanted. Pictures of her cover the walls—young Susan with baby Dominic, the five of us at various ages looking scrappy and loved, her and Dad on their wedding day. Her favorite Motown plays just loud enough to be heard under the conversations. Flowers sit on every surface, wildflowers mostly, the kind she used to pick on her walks.

  The beer is flowing freely, Theo and Alex’s food covers every available surface, and the stories have already started. I can hear Eddie by the pool table telling his favorite Susan story to anyone who’ll listen.

 

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