Ugh.
But what changed the half-smile to a satisfied grin was knowing she’d turned a corner. She’d keep her business, for now. She’d keep researching the idea she and Elaine were working on until they had enough information to make an informed decision—or a calculated leap of decently funded faith.
And she’d start to make art again.
She giggled. Make art.
Okay, maybe that was a bit presumptuous. She’d made room in her psyche for the idea of returning to creative work. Next up was a space to work, materials, and tools. She could go home now and return to being fifty-year-old Anna without the need to hide or shrink.
By the time she disembarked the ferry and drove across the island toward home, everything inside her body was calmer. Her heart rate was relaxed, and the ball of tension she’d developed under her sternum had disappeared. Turning into her driveway, she had to stop short and maneuver around the boxy, white storage container with bold red lettering her Space Savior had arrived.
Anna giggled.
Something about the way the box claimed the end of her driveway declared her house project was officially a thing. She emptied the cab of her truck and made a second trip for the six-pack of flattened storage boxes purchased on the way home. She called Elaine and asked if she wanted to supply Anna with pizza and gossip while helping to sort a roomful of books.
“I think I know what prompted this monstrous project, but how about you fill me in?” Elaine put herself in charge of filling and labelling the boxes, once Anna decided where the individual piles would go.
“I’m tired of being surrounded by so much stuff I don’t use or read or even need anymore. And I’m back to thinking about a move to Toronto. Maybe. Part-time at most.”
Wait, when did that idea insinuate itself into her head?
She thought her plans were made, the road ahead plotted, ready for the area to be cleared of cloying underbrush and readied for grading.
“You WHAT? Do you have any idea what Ontario’s like in the winter?” Elaine’s voice went up half an octave. She underlined her point by dropping two heavy reference books into a box.
“I’d come here in the winter.”
“How could you do that, if this house is rented out?”
Elaine made a good point. “I’d only rent it out in the summer? Live with you?”
Clearly, the endless list of logistics needed consideration, and Anna’s arguments for the move were growing weaker. Must be a sign. She refilled their wine glasses, rinsed the bottle, and put it into the recycling bin.
“Think this decision through carefully, Anna. It’s not like when the kids were little and wanted us around twenty-four-seven. I know you and Suki get along, but Gary belongs to her now.”
“You think I should drop this idea of moving,” Anna said, affecting a pout. She plunked her butt onto the couch and crossed her legs. Her attempt to convince herself and Elaine she was seriously contemplating a cross-country move was halfhearted at best.
“Yes, I do. I think it’s a reaction to being dumped by two men, neither of whom deserves you.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but I wasn’t dumped. And I’m trying to not make this about a man.”
“But it is, in a way,” Elaine chided. “Your feelings are hurt, and your instinct is to run away and lick your wounds. But this island is your home. You have friends here, and clients. You love the ocean, and there was no ocean in Toronto last time I looked. And besides, we have the floating bordello project. Which I am completely serious about.”
“Then tell me, how do I stay here and not go right back to all my old habits?” Anna stood, fists on hips, surveying the kitchen like it was a castle in need of storming. The clutter in her cupboards clamored for liberation, and Elaine seemed to have a handle on the books.
“You finish this project you started. You buy yourself a new bed. You get rid of those godawful curtains. And you open yourself to the possibility that there might be another wonderful man out there for you. And there might not. But you’re not allowed to go all weepy wallflower on me because I don’t do pity very well. And my wine glass is empty.”
Anna laughed and went to the floor to hug her friend, knocking over a pile of books as she bent over.
“Watch it, girlie, I charge extra for restacking. And while you’re refilling my glass, how about another slice of that pizza?”
One of the projects Anna started—technically, Daniel started—nagged for resolution. The day after Elaine gave her the pep talk and the help with the boxes, Anna called Daniel at his home.
“Annalissa.” He picked up on the first ring. “It’s you. I was hoping we could talk.”
She nodded, knowing he couldn’t see the relief flooding her body, blasting away the knot that had reformed in her chest as she’d prepared what she wanted to say, once she’d decided she should call him. She wrapped a crocheted afghan around her legs for comfort, took a big breath in, and let it out.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she offered. “We owe it to each to mend whatever we broke in Mexico.”
“And in New York,” he added, his voice simultaneously soft and hopeful. “But I’m choosing to view it as something we broke open, Annalissa, not something we can’t repair.”
Lowering her chin, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her nose was starting to run. Tears would be next. She was genuinely ready to stop being so close to crying so much of the time. She threaded her fingers through the holes in the coverlet and pulled it up to her thighs.
“Where do we start?” she asked.
“I’ve wanted to tell you what happened, why my reaction to seeing you in New York was so…intense. May I begin?”
Anna curled deeper into the corner of her couch, her nod unseen, and choked out a
