Page 136 of Ten Day Affair

But something has shifted, like I'm seeing it through new eyes.

I walk to the sliders and push them open wider. The ocean breeze hits immediately, lifting my hair and carrying the salt-sweet smell I'd forgotten how much I needed. My eyes close automatically.

This is home. This will always be home. Maybe not this house, but this slice of heaven.

"Hope you didn't start crying without me."

The front door clicks open again, and Arden's voice fills the space with warmth I didn't realize I was desperate for.

We hug like we haven't seen each other in years. It's been a month.

"I didn't cry, but I did almost lie down on the entry rug and die a little."

She appears holding a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and one of those gorgeous charcuterie boards from the market downtown. My mouth waters at the sight of the cheeses, nuts, and those pretzel crackers she knows I'm obsessed with.

"That's my girl. Dramatic as ever." She kicks off her sandals and follows me onto the deck.

"Talk about crying. I'm so excited about sitting out here with you and drinking wine, I could cry."

She twists off the screw top and pulls two plastic stemless cups out of her bag.

"Wine first, existential crisis second."

She pours two generous glasses. We settle into the cushioned lounge chairs that face the water. The sun hangs lower now, painting the waves with streaks of amber.

"So." Arden takes a sip and studies my face. "How bad is it, really? In Atlanta?"

I rotate my glass between my palms, watching the wine catch the light.

"Bad at first. But it's getting better now. I'm starting to get my feet under me and make a few friends-ish."

"And the mobile clinic thing you told me about? Are you still thinking about trying to do that?"

"I can't stop thinking about it." The words tumble out faster than I expected.

"Well, tell me. Where are you? Did you do any research?"

"I think I can run it for around three grand a month, which I've been told is attainable with an active fundraising arm. But there is a heavy upfront cost to getting it up and running and stocking it. Probably looking at around two hundred and fifty thousand."

She nods, but I catch the worry flicker across her face.

"That sounds amazing, but also expensive. And complicated."

"It is. I spoke with the hospital outreach, and they can only commit to fifty thousand. That would be great if the van were ready to go."

"Shit. That sucks. Maybe you can organize a fundraiser?"

"I plan to. To sustain it. But I need cash now. That's why..." I take a breath.

"Why what? What are you up to? That look…"

"I'm meeting with Janet Reeves while I'm in town."

Arden nearly chokes on her wine.

"The realtor? You're thinking of selling your house!?"

The question hangs between us like a challenge. I stare at the horizon, where the sky meets the water in a perfect line.