“I know Sloane loves chocolate milk,” Kyle continued, “so I made her some with a bit of ashwagandha to relieve her stress. It’s amazing if I do say so myself.”
I held my breath as I asked, “Did she drink it?”
He smiled and nodded, satisfied. “Leah,” he said as she panted over. “Iced coconut chai latte for you, my friend.”
“Thanks, Kyle,” she said breathlessly. She took a sip. “It’s so good.”
Kyle turned back to me and winked. He knew what he did to these poor girls. To my knowledge, he hadn’t been romantically connected to anyone in at least six months. That seemed unusual for him.
The door tinkled again and, to my surprise, it was Kimmy, Peachtree Bluff’s resident produce girl. I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, and she looked different. Her previously spiky half-blue hair was longer and all black again. It was softer, cute. Cuffs with diamonds traveled up her ears, and a tiny diamond stud twinkled in her nose. “Oh, good,” Kyle said. “You’re here.”
I looked from one to the other, trying to assess what they were up to.
“We’re making you dinner tomorrow night,” Kimmy said.
I put my hand to my heart. “What?”
Kyle nodded. “Yes. Chef Kimmy and I are making dinner for all the Murphy women.”
“And the two tiny men,” Kimmy added.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, flattered.
“Of course we do,” Kimmy said.
“We love you, Ansley,” Kyle agreed. “Now that Sloane is out of bed, let’s give her a reason to stay out. Let’s celebrate a little.”
“You sweet, darling children. I accept your very kind offer.”
Kimmy grabbed a cup out of the insulated Coke crate–turned–coffee carrier that was hanging by a leather guitar strap around Kyle’s neck. She tapped her cup to mine. “It wasn’t an offer,” she said. “We were doing it whether you liked it or not.”
It was one of those times that made me remember why I lived in Peachtree Bluff, why this town meant so much to me. These small kindnesses might not have seemed like much. But at times like these, small kindnesses were actually everything.
WHEN I GOT BACK home that afternoon, Mom and Caroline were chatting on the white linen living room couch while Caroline fed Preston a bottle. The house seemed quiet. Too quiet.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Emerson convinced Sloane to take the boys out in the wagon,” Caroline said, adjusting the swaddle blanket on her shoulder that covered part of the sleeveless white blouse she had paired with perfectly fitted black shorts. It was simple, but on Caroline, impossibly chic. “Vivi is riding her bike with them.”
My eyes widened. I was impressed. “That’s major.”
Mom exhaled and put a hand up to the opera-length pearls that hung over a simple pink, long-sleeved shift. Looking at the two of them side by side, it was easy to see where Caroline got her style. “Y’all need to stop babying her. If you keep doing everything for her, you’re just going to make her worse.”
Caroline smiled down at Preston as she said, “I feel so sorry for her. Even I’m having a hard time doling out the tough love.”
I sat down in one of the club chairs across from Mom and Caroline. “I think we’re even more sympathetic because we’ve all lived what she’s living, not being sure if someone you love more than life is dead.”
“Oh, I don’t think she thinks he’s dead,” Mom said.
“Well, she knows he’s in a horrible situation.”
“Right,” Mom said. “She’s in a horrible situation, he’s in a horrible situation, and you’re all complicit in letting her wallow in it.”
Caroline sat Preston up on her lap, leaning his chin into her hand, and patted his back to coax out a burp. “No, we’re not,” she said. “Not anymore.”
“And it worked, didn’t it?” Mom asked.
This conversation was making me uncomfortable and a little bit angry. Sure, Mom hadn’t let me come home or helped me in any way after my husband, Carter, died. And, yes, it turned out OK. But that didn’t mean that’s what I needed to do with Sloane. I loved my mother and I respected her, but freezing me out like that when I needed someone to lean on had nearly killed me. I wasn’t going to put my daughter through that.
“Kimmy and Kyle are making dinner for us tomorrow night,” I said, changing the subject as the door slammed.
“They are?” Emerson asked. “That’s so nice.”
Sloane trailed in behind her, Taylor on her hip. His head was resting on her shoulder, and I could almost feel his bliss at having his mother back. Sloane was so thin that her little shorts were hanging off her hips. Her light brown hair was ratty and pulled back into a slouchy ponytail. The circles under her doe eyes had circles. Usually Sloane had rosy cheeks, clear skin, and that sort of natural, effortless beauty reserved for Neutrogena commercials. Now, she was so pale and sallow, her normally full cheeks sunken in. I hardly recognized her. I wished I could hold her and make it better like she was doing for Taylor.
“I want some more of that chocolate milk,” Sloane said, exhausted.
“If you want chocolate milk, then you shall have chocolate milk.”
I could hear Vivi and AJ laughing and yelling out on the lawn.
“Is this dinner a family thing?” Emerson asked. She leaned casually against the wall, her leggings and tank accentuating her lithe body. She was eating well again, off that dreadful juice cleanse she had been on when she got to Peachtree Bluff, but her legs and arms still looked too thin to me. And she was a bit pale, too, which was odd, considering she was getting plenty of June sunshine.
I cocked my head to the side. “Well, no. I suppose not. Did you want to invite some friends?”
She took a sip out of the water bottle in her hand as she strode across the room
