Willow said it as if it were a curse word.
“Hey, you said quinoa was better than you thought,” Audrey protested.
Willow and Maggie both laughed. “It is good,” Audrey protested even as she joined in.
“Congratulations, Willow,” Maggie said.
“We’re going to go to the peninsula tonight,” Audrey told her. “You’re invited for dinner and a sunset.”
“Ask me next time,” Maggie May said. “We both know there will be a next time sooner rather than later. I’ve got a date tonight.”
“Do tell?” Audrey said.
Maggie offered her a small, mysterious smile. “It’s only our second one. If he makes it past date five, I’ll tell.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Audrey assured her.
As Maggie disappeared into her own home, Willow said, “A sunset? We’re going to celebrate with a sunset?”
“Have you ever gone out to the peninsula for sunset?” Audrey countered.
“No.” Willow’s tone made it obvious that she didn’t think a sunset could qualify as much of a celebration.
“Then give it a try and tell me later what you think.”
The sunsets on Erie’s Presque Isle peninsula were one of her favorite parts of summer. When she sat on the rocky beach staring out at the western horizon, all she could see was water and sky. The world seemed limitless.
“A sunset...” Willow muttered as she stalked into the house.
Audrey sighed. Willow had only lived with her since February—not quite half a year. One day soon she’d really reach her.
She just had to keep trying and be patient.
Unfortunately, patience wasn’t one of Audrey’s greatest gifts.
It wasn’t even a minor gift, if she was being honest with herself.
She picked up the mail, placed the bills in one pile and dropped the junk mail in another. There was one envelope that was obviously neither. She opened it and felt sick. It was an invitation to her ten-year high school reunion, the last Saturday in August at the Bayfront Convention Center.
Her heart sank. She didn’t want to go. She doubted that Merrill or Ava would be there, and other than the two of them, there was no one she really wanted to see. Actually, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see Merrill and Ava. They’d kept in touch, but only just barely since high school.
She didn’t want to look back. There was nothing to be gained by it.
“Aud,” Clinton and Bea shouted in unison.
Audrey crumpled the invitation and put it in the recycle pile. She turned her attention to the kids.
“It’s official,” Clinton announced. “We’re on summer vacation.”
“And Willow finally convinced Mr. Williams to let her mow his lawn,” Audrey said.
“Good for you, Willow,” Clinton called up the stairs. Audrey guessed the girl had made a beeline for her bedroom, confirmed moments later by the sound of a door slamming.
Clinton was only a year younger than Willow, but in so many ways he was much older. He’d grown up too soon and she knew that part of that was her fault. She felt a familiar stab of pain. She’d done her best to give him a childhood, but she wasn’t always sure that her best had been good enough. At least she had given him security and a family.
“I thought we’d go to the beach to celebrate the official start to our summer and Willow’s successful campaign.”
“Sunset,” Bea squealed. “Our first one of the year. It’s still too cold to swim, right?”
It had been a brutal winter that hadn’t given way to spring until almost April. Two months hadn’t been enough to warm the Great Lake up enough for Audrey to swim, or even dunk her toes. “Well, too cold for me,” she told the ten-year-old.
Bea’s long brown braid bounced against her back. Bianca Cruz was built of sturdier stuff than Audrey. Over the winter, while Audrey had dressed in layers, Bea had walked around barefoot. “I’ll put my suit on just in case.”
“A sunset?” Willow said as she came back into the room and stared at her foster siblings. “Really, that’s your idea of a celebration?” She walked up to the counter, grabbed an apple and then went up the stairs again. Moments later, her bedroom door slammed.
“I don’t think she’s impressed,” Clinton said with typical dry humor.
“That’s because she hasn’t experienced one yet,” Audrey said with more optimism than she felt.
“You might not win her over, Aud,” he said softly. “You might have to concede to that someday.”
“It doesn’t matter. She needs us, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Everyone needs someone. I was lucky that I had you to work for, to fight for. And now Willow’s got us, even if she doesn’t want us.”
Clinton was too old to hug much anymore, but he made an exception this once and squeezed her tight. He was taller than she was now.
“All we can do is try,” Clinton said with his old-man wisdom.
Audrey nodded. “Let’s make short work of dinner so we can get out to the beach in time for that sunset.”
* * *
A COUPLE HOURS LATER, she sat on a blanket, one arm wrapped around the very damp Bea, watching as the sun neared the edge of the horizon.
It had been a lovely evening. She’d even coaxed Willow into joining the family selfie. Now, if only she could get the girl to enjoy herself.
“Really, you guys, this isn’t a celebration, it’s a...” Willow started to complain again.
“Shh,” Bea said. “We’ll miss it.” Her teeth chattered as she pulled the towel more tightly around her.
Audrey still couldn’t believe that Bea had braved the lake. No one else would join her. Not even Clinton, and Bea could normally persuade him to do almost anything.
“Miss what?” Willow asked.
Bea’s teeth chattered as she said, “Audrey knows a lady who owns a chocolate shop in town. The lady says if you listen hard enough, sometimes you can hear the sun hiss when it hits the water.”
Willow scoffed. “Oh, come on...”
Audrey caught Clinton glaring at Willow, as if warning her against hurting Bea’s feelings. His look was enough to shut down Willow’s rant before it really started.
They all knew that logically they’d never hear the sun hit the water, but that didn’t
