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“Mom and Elianna have taken over your old room,” she said.

“Joanna texted.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t come home and make it your room again.”

“I know.” But it sure felt that way. “But you didn’t fly down here to talk about my old room.”

Ava sat quietly for a moment, gripping her mug. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do what, Aves?”

“Marriage. The house, the bills, adulting.”

“Ava, you were adulting at ten.”

“I was a smarty-pants. Living securely with my parents. But, Em, this is for real. I don’t know if I can marry Jamie. Is he the love of my life? Or am I in love with love? One of my friends seems to think I am. And on top of everything else, you’re not coming to the shower. Why aren’t you coming?”

“Because of my job. I’ll send a present. And the rest sounds like a dumb Cosmo article or one of those relationship podcasts hosted by no one who’s actually ever made a relationship work. Who’s this friend? Dump her.”

“Kaitlyn Bernard.” Ava made a face. “And you’re right, I’ve been reading online articles about marriage, and, Emery, no one seems to think it’s a lasting gig.

I woke up three days ago, panicked. I thought I’d shake it, work myself out of it, but it sank deeper.

We had an appointment to look at a house, and oh my gosh, it was a stunner.

Like a dream home for someone who’s worked ten or twenty years.

Or fifty. It’s bigger than our house. You should see the back deck with an outdoor fireplace and dining, all facing three beautiful acres, trees and landscaping everywhere.

A pool. I can’t do landscaping, Emery. Plants die in my care.

” Ava’s hand trembled as she held up her phone, showing Emery a picture of the home in Gates Mills. “And the price. Did you see the price?”

“Jamie’s a successful lawyer, Ava. He made partner. Don’t you know how much he makes?”

“I do now.” She tucked her phone away. “I wanted a starter home for a young, newly married couple with eclectic furniture, some old, some new, a creaking staircase. This place is for House Beautiful . Just move in and live. It’s a frozen dinner. Heat and eat.”

Emery grinned. “Then tell him. And don’t read articles about marriage. Talk to real people. Marriage works. Look at Dad and Joanna. Dad and my mom. Caleb’s parents have been married for forty years.”

Ava looked pensive. “There’s the couple across the way who are always hosting their friends and family. They went jogging in matching outfits a few days ago when the temps hit forty-five.”

“Do you love Jamie, Ava?”

“I do.” Ava dropped her forehead to the table.

“For now. But what if I can’t do this? Be his wife forever.

What if he goes into politics, and I have to wear pantsuits and one of those coiffed hairstyles?

” She bolted upright. “We happened too fast, didn’t we?

Be honest. We did, right? You never liked how fast Dad and Mom got together. ”

“That’s because my mom had recently died. Ava, are you running away?”

“Yeah, I think I am.” She looked Emery in the eye. “I’ve watched you do it enough times.”

CALEB

On Saturday evening, Caleb turned on the patio lights, built a fire in the outdoor fireplace, and roasted bratwurst with Bentley.

His neck and arms were sore from a day of holding a paint brush o ver his head, but the side of Doyle’s was starting to look like something beautiful. The mural already had the desired effect—stirring excitement in the East End.

Folks came by all day, and at least forty or fifty people wanted to grab a brush, lay on some strokes, become a part of something happening on their side of town.

Mac Diamond used the occasion to do a bit of soft campaigning for mayor until the current mayor told him to knock it off. Gutsy man, Simon Caster.

Being divided was killing Sea Blue Beach. The two sides had become like siblings, fighting all the time. They couldn’t separate because they were family, but the tension always existed.

In the chair next to him, Bentley hovered over a book while roasting his bratwurst, only occasionally checking his progress.

Cassidy was missing this season of his life.

He was discovering things, making his own observations and conclusions.

He was smart and funny, lovable. If he still believed no one wanted him, he hid it well.

He’d tried to FaceTime his mom three times this week. She never answered or called back.

Yet, he had a blast working on the mural. Came home covered in paint.

“Geez , Bent , did you get any on the wall?”

“Hey , I was on the bottom. Y’all on top splattered us.”

When Bentley’s brat caught on fire, Caleb suggested it was done. They sat at the table with coleslaw, chips, and iced teas, Caleb lost in thoughts of the day. Bentley, his book.

Emery never returned to the mural. Between her sister’s sudden appearance, writing her story, and getting the paper to bed, he didn’t expect to see her. He thought to text her, but even something like “The mural looks great” felt like an attempt to find out her business.

While on the scaffold, he’d painted part of the golden light where Lulu outlined Immanuel. His sixth-grade civics teacher taught Immanuel as “Sea Blue Beach’s own rich lore. A fairytale-like legend.” Legend or Lord? Which was true?

As a kid, Caleb found comfort in the idea of God appearing to a lost and shipwrecked prince on a dark and deserted beach. Then sending a freed slaves to rescue him. Maybe it meant He was with the townspeople. With Caleb. With Emery. With Bentley.

He’d just taken a bite of bratwurst in a bun of mustard, cheese, and onions when Bentley said, “You should marry her.”

Caleb choked. “What?”

Bentley glanced up, his cheek chipmunked with food. “You should marry her. I mean, you are a full-grown man, you said so the other day. And you’re making money, right?”

“Marry who?”

“Emery. She’s good-looking.”

Caleb laughed. “Good-looking? I didn’t know boys your age said good-looking .”

“I’m well-traveled. You hear things out there on the road.

” The wise, philosophizing Bentley slurped his tea.

“Emery’s not what you’d call pretty. Maybe beautiful, but eh, that’s overused.

Good-looking is like—” He pumped his fist. “You know, good. And looking. Like no one else.” He shrugged and sighed, done with his ruminations.

“Nice to know. Eat your coleslaw, Aristotle.”

Good-looking? Emery had been pretty as a teen, with light freckles and wavy blond hair, curves in the right places.

When Caleb first saw her at Alderman’s a month ago, he was a little bowled over.

Like, wow. She was beautiful. Or to go with Bentley’s definition, good-looking. With a couple of exclamation marks.

“Hey, Bentley.” One of the Feinberg boys from three houses down rode his bike through the yard. “Want to hang out? My mom made brownies.”

Bentley closed his book while shoving the last of his brat in his mouth. He started to dash away until Caleb called, “No, you may not.”

“Why not?”

“First, you ask. Second, did you pick up your clothes and towel after your shower?” Caleb heard echoes of his own dad in that question. And Bentley wasn’t even his kid.

“Be right back.”

The Feinberg kid munched on chips while Bentley thundered through the house—Caleb could hear him all the way to the patio. When he burst out of the kitchen door, he grabbed Caleb’s old bike from the porch and said, “Can I go?”

“Home by eight.”

“I picked up my stuff,” he said, riding off. “You should unpack your boxes.”

“Hey, I’m the adult around here.”

But the boy wasn’t wrong.

After cleaning up dinner, Caleb left the porch light on for Bentley, then headed into the living room with a glance at his boxes—when did Bentley use them for a fort?

He found a good game of college basketball—Ohio State was up on Purdue by ten in the second half.

Was Emery watching? He glanced at the time.

Seven thirty. She was probably at the paper.

He started a text, then deleted it. He had more confidence with girls at sixteen than at thirty-two.

Maybe he should heed Lizzie’s advice. Seek help.

But deep down, he already knew the answer.

Emery. She’d been in the back of his mind since the summer they met.

When she left, she took a piece of his heart.

He was soaking in this revelation when someone knocked on his door and the Ohio State point guard knocked down a three-point buzzer beater at the half.

Emery stood on the porch in a pair of jeans and hoodie, her hair in a braid.

“Can we go for a walk or something? I mean, if you’re not busy.” She buried her hands in her pocket, shivering. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go. I knocked on Delilah’s cottage, but she was out.”

“You can bother me anytime, Em.” He pulled her in for a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“My sister is getting cold feet about marriage. She’s panicking.

We went round and round.... Then I had to get to the paper.

I wrote my story, worked through Kadasha’s photos.

She’s amazing. Put the paper to bed and went to the cottage to check on Ava.

She’s sleeping. So I took a shower and came here.

” She leaned away from him to see inside. “Who’s playing?”

“Your Buckeyes.” Caleb stepped aside to let her in. “Let me get my jacket. Unless you want to watch the game? It’s halftime.”

“I can’t sit. I need to move, walk, talk. How did the rest of mural painting go?”

“We accomplished everything Lulu wanted. People came by all day to check it out. A lot wanted to help. There’s buzz about improvements for the East End. And your boy here stayed on the scaffold the whole time.”

She laughed softly through her tired expression. “I’m impressed.”

“Come on, let’s go out the back.”

“Where’s Bentley?” Emery said, exiting the kitchen onto the porch.

“With a neighborhood kid. He’s finally making friends.”