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L ynda carried another stack of photo albums into the living room, adding them to the growing pile on the coffee table.

“I had no idea you had so many albums,” her daughter Amy said, looking up from the box of papers she was sorting through. “Dad was always the one taking pictures, but it seems like you’re the one who organized them all.”

Amy smiled, tucking a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. She was the perfect blend of her parents—Ray’s coloring and Lynda’s determined chin and practical nature. “Dylan keeps asking to see pictures of me when I was his age. He’s convinced I was never a child.”

“Well, these should dispel that notion.” Lynda handed Amy the album. “Especially the photos from your cowgirl phase.”

“Oh no,” Amy groaned, flipping to a page that showed her seven-year-old self in a fringed vest, cowboy boots, and a hat far too large for her small head. “I’d successfully blocked this from my memory.”

Lynda laughed, the sound echoing in the house that had seemed too quiet since her return from Sapphire Bay. Having Amy visit for the day was a welcome change from the emptiness she’d felt moving through the spacious rooms alone.

They’d been working for hours, sorting through decades of accumulated papers, photographs, and memorabilia.

It was part of Lynda’s plans to prepare the house for its eventual sale.

Boxes labeled “Keep,” “Donate,” and “Discard” were gradually filling up, though the “Keep” box remained stubbornly small despite Amy’s attempts to preserve more family heirlooms.

“What about these?” Amy asked, holding up a stack of photo envelopes. “They’re from your thirtieth wedding anniversary trip to Hawaii.”

Lynda hesitated, then reached for the packet. She hadn’t looked at these photos in a long time. She’d deliberately avoided any images from what had turned out to be her final vacation with her husband. Six months later, she’d discovered Ray’s affair.

Her hands were surprisingly steady as she opened the envelope. There they were—her and Ray on the beach, hiking to waterfalls, at a luau with ridiculous flower leis around their necks. She looked genuinely happy in the photos, and Ray had his arm around her in most of them, his smile matching hers.

“You both look really good,” Amy said carefully, watching Lynda’s reaction. “It was a nice trip, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Lynda agreed, studying the images with a sense of detachment that would have been impossible a few years ago. “I remember feeling so grateful that we’d made it to thirty years, that we still enjoyed each other’s company enough to travel together.”

“Did you have any idea then?” Amy asked softly. “About Melissa?”

Lynda shook her head. “Not a clue. That’s what made it all so surreal when I found out. I kept thinking there must be some mistake, that the person in those text messages couldn’t possibly be the same man who’d held my hand as we walked along a Hawaiian beach six months earlier.”

She set the photos down, surprised to discover that the familiar knot of anger and hurt that usually accompanied memories of Ray had loosened considerably. The betrayal was still there, the facts unchanged, but the sharp edge of the pain had dulled to a distant ache.

“You seem different when you talk about him now,” Amy observed. “Less angry.”

“Do I?” Lynda considered this. “I suppose I am. Ten years is too long to be bitter.”

“It’s more than that,” Amy insisted, studying her mother with the perceptive gaze she’d inherited from Lynda herself. “It’s like you’ve finally let go of it. You used to get this tight look around your eyes whenever Dad’s name came up, but it’s not there anymore.”

Lynda thought about what Amy had said as she returned the photos to their envelope.

There was truth in what she’d said. The burning sense of injustice, of having been fooled and discarded after decades of shared life, was her constant companion for years after Ray left.

It had fueled her determination to succeed on her own, to prove she didn’t need him or anyone else.

But somewhere along the way—perhaps in the quiet mornings watching the sun rise over Flathead Lake, or during long nights helping Matt care for orphaned puppies, or in the simple pleasure of being part of a community that valued her for exactly who she was—that burning had cooled.

“I think I’ve just gained some perspective,” Lynda said finally. “Your father’s choices were about him, not me. I can acknowledge that our marriage had good years, that we created a wonderful daughter together, without letting his betrayal define the rest of my life.”

Amy’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s... remarkably healthy, Mom. And not at all what you were saying a year ago.”

Lynda laughed, surprising herself with the lightness she felt. “I know. I’m as shocked as you are.”

“Does this change of heart have anything to do with a certain veterinarian in Montana?” Amy asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “The one who sends you puppy photos every day?”

Lynda blushed. It didn’t surprise her that Amy had noticed her checking her phone or the smile that appeared whenever Matt’s name flashed on the screen.

“Matt is part of it,” she admitted. “But not everything. It’s Sapphire Bay itself, the work at the shelter, the friends I’ve reconnected with. I’ve found something there that I didn’t even realize I was missing.”

Amy set aside the box she’d been organizing and sat beside Lynda on the couch. “You’re moving there permanently, aren’t you? That’s why we’re sorting through all this stuff.”

The direct question caught Lynda off guard, though it shouldn’t have. Her daughter had always been able to read her with uncomfortable accuracy.

“I am,” she confirmed, the first time she’d said the words aloud to anyone besides herself. “I’ve already spoken to Robert about buying the practice. We signed a contract yesterday, and he takes over ownership of the clinic in six weeks.”

Amy was quiet for a moment, processing what Lynda had said. “Wow. That’s... a big step, Mom.”

“It is,” Lynda agreed. “And there are a lot of things to work out. But the more I think about it, the more right it feels.”

“What would you do in Sapphire Bay? Start a new practice?”

Lynda shook her head. “Not a full practice, no. But I could set up a small clinic focused on wildlife rehabilitation and exotic animals. The shelter desperately needs someone with that expertise, and with the money from selling the practice plus my savings, I could create something that serves a real need in the community.”

“And live where?” Amy asked, practical as always.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Lynda admitted. “I’ve been staying with Kathleen, one of my childhood friends, but I’d want my own place eventually. There aren’t many homes for sale, so I’ll have to move fast if something comes on the market.”

Amy nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And Matt? How does he factor into all this?”

Lynda smiled softly. She’d been open and honest with her daughter about her relationship with Matt.

She didn’t want Amy to be blindsided by the news that there was a special person in her mom’s life.

“Matt’s a significant consideration, but he’s not the only reason.

I wouldn’t uproot my entire life for a relationship that’s just beginning. ”

“But you care about him,” Amy pressed gently.

“I do.” Lynda sighed. “More than I expected to, more than I thought I could after your father.” She reached for her phone, opened the photo Matt had sent that morning, and showed it to Amy.

Star sat proudly on the examination table, her transformation from a frail newborn to a thriving young animal beautifully captured in the image.

“He’s kind, Amy. Genuinely kind in a way that has nothing to do with what he might gain from it. ”

“You deserve that,” Amy said softly. “After everything with Dad, you deserve someone who sees your worth.”

Lynda’s hand shook as she placed her phone on the coffee table.

She was touched by the sincerity in her daughter’s voice.

The divorce had complicated Amy’s relationship with her father.

Her initial anger at his betrayal of her mother gave way to a cautious reestablishment of their father-daughter bond.

She rarely spoke critically of Ray now. Instead, she chose to maintain a careful neutrality that sometimes made Lynda wonder what she honestly thought of her father’s actions.

“Thank you for saying that,” Lynda replied. “But what about you and the boys? If I move to Montana, I’ll be a flight away instead of a short drive. I’ll miss school plays and baseball games, impromptu Sunday dinners, and so much more.”

“We can visit, Mom,” Amy said with a hint of amusement. “And we have phones and video calls. Besides, Sapphire Bay sounds like exactly the kind of place Eddie and Dylan would love to visit—a lake, mountains, and wildlife. It’s probably a lot more exciting than coming to your house in the suburbs.”

“That’s true,” Lynda conceded, picturing her grandsons exploring Flathead Lake, perhaps even joining her and Matt on rescue calls when the animals weren’t dangerous. “Matt has grandchildren too—Lily and Ethan. They live in Missoula, about an hour from Sapphire Bay.”

“See? Built-in playmates for when we visit,” Amy said with a smile. She reached over to take her mother’s hand. “Mom, I want you to be happy. If Sapphire Bay, a new job, and Matt make you happy, then that’s where you should be.”

The simple, unconditional support brought unexpected tears to Lynda’s eyes. “Thank you for that. I was worried you’d think I was crazy.”

“I’d never think that, especially after what Dad put you through.” Amy squeezed Lynda’s hand. “You’re a strong, independent woman who showed me that it’s never too late to rebuild your life on your terms. Matt’s lucky to have found you.”

Lynda blinked back tears, deeply moved by her daughter’s words. “I just want to be sure I’m not making a rash decision. Moving to a small town and starting a new chapter at sixty-seven has a few risks.”

“Of course it does,” Amy agreed. “But so does staying here, living a life that doesn’t excite you anymore just because it’s familiar and safe.

” She gestured around the living room. “Look at this house, Mom. It’s beautiful, comfortable, exactly what you needed after the divorce.

But when’s the last time it truly felt like home? ”

The question struck Lynda with unexpected force.

She looked around at the tasteful furnishings she’d selected after Ray left, the neutral colors that had felt calming during that tumultuous time, the carefully curated artwork that meant nothing to her emotionally.

Everything in this house had been chosen to create a sanctuary from pain, a controlled environment where she could rebuild her sense of self.

But a sanctuary could also become a prison if you never ventured beyond its walls.

“I think,” Lynda said slowly, “that I’ve been confusing safety with happiness for a long time now.”

“And now?” Amy prompted.

“Now I’m ready for something different.” Lynda reached for her phone again, this time opening a photo Isabel had sent her of the Sapphire Bay animal shelter. “Something that feels more like purpose than protection.”

Amy looked at the photo and smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Something—or someone—with silver hair and a talent for carving wooden animals?”

Lynda laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. “We’re taking things slowly.”

“Of course you are,” Amy said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. Just don’t take things too slowly, Mom. Life’s short, even when you’re not sixty-seven.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lynda promised, pulling her daughter into a hug.

As they returned to their sorting, Lynda moved with renewed purpose.

The photos of her life with Ray went into a small box for Amy to keep.

They were a record of their family history that no longer needed to occupy space in Lynda’s present.

The treasured mementos of her veterinary career and items of genuine sentimental value were carefully packed for the eventual move to Montana.

And in the pocket of Lynda’s sweater, the wooden wolf Matt had carved rested against her, a tangible reminder of the new life waiting for her in Sapphire Bay. A life she was finally ready to embrace, with all its uncertainties and possibilities.

Three more days, and she’d be heading back to Montana. Not for a visit this time, but to begin the process of making Sapphire Bay her permanent home. With a smile, Lynda looked at her daughter. The thought of starting again filled her with a quiet joy that had been missing for far too long.