Fireflies in the Field

by Elizabeth Bromke

  Clara rolled her eyes, but her hands drifted to the computer and she flexed her fingers, hovering as she asked, “What’s the business name?”

  Megan faltered and bit down on her lip. “Okay, so I’m not sure yet. We nixed Summer Lovin’. And we’re definitely doing this Labor Day weekend, so it’s not going to be Spring Fever, either.”

  “Not the event. We’ll get to that soon. I mean the business name. The entity. Your page can probably run ads or something to specific events or whatever.”

  “Oh, okay. So, like, the matchmaking business.” Megan drummed her fingers against her chin. Clara saw they weren’t painted black for the first time in forever. Deep, deep red. Almost black. But not black. A small smile pricked Clara’s lips before her sister replied, “Megan’s Matchmaking?”

  “What happened to Hannigan Sisters Enterprises?” Amelia questioned.

  “No.”

  Megan and Clara said it together. In tandem. They locked eyes. Clara frowned. “I don’t like that name. It’s too cliquey.” She was proud to speak her mind, even if she wasn’t being totally honest. She was being mostly honest, though. No matter her relationship, she didn’t feel like she was one of the Hannigan Sisters. Especially if they had an enterprise. Call her jealous. Call her bitter, but there it was. She didn’t like it.

  “Yes, that,” Megan said, pointing her gaze at Clara momentarily, “Cliquey. Ladies, this is my matchmaking company. It’s not your lighthouse or your inn or your tutoring service or social media coaching service.” She winked at Clara, who could have melted then and there.

  For the first time in forever, Clara felt seen. Noticed. Considered. Maybe she wasn’t biologically Megan’s sister. Or Amelia’s or Kate’s. But if they were still her sisters, which really they were, she just found her favorite. And it was not Kate. No. No. No. She smiled back, in on the conspiracy now.

  “Okay, so you need a matchmaking business name. Or,” Kate stretched the or out as far as it would go, “an events company name. Don’t shy away from the idea of scaling your business.”

  “Can I just skip that step for now?” Megan asked over Clara’s shoulder.

  Clara shrugged, disappointed to disappoint her new sister. “Not really. But what we can do is set up a page for now. You can change it later or add a new group or something. That way you can get the ball rolling. It could be vague enough to cast a wide net, then you can set up the event through the page.”

  “Okay, what about Birch Harbor Events and Services?” Kate was trying hard.

  “I’d go with something a tad more personal,” Amelia suggested.

  “I think,” Clara confessed, “that using Hannigan might not be a bad idea. I mean, before she died, Mom—I mean, Nora—really had quite the following around town. People know the name. I just wouldn’t do sisters. Maybe just…”

  “Okay, I’ve got it,” Megan said, her hands spread open wide across the air. “Hannigan Field. Boom.”

  Clara hesitated only a split second before typing the phrase into the Business Name box.

  Hannigan Field.

  She liked it. She liked it for Megan. She liked it enough that she just might have to help out. It would do her some good to get away from the water, maybe. Dry off in a field of grass at sunset. Like a mini staycation. A fresh locale. Where she could test out this whole mingle idea.

  “Love it,” Amelia said.

  “Same,” Kate declared.

  Megan added, “Clara, you inspired me. And now you’re making it happen for me, look at you, Clar.” She pointed to the screen and squeezed Clara’s shoulder.

  “Okay,” Clara said at last. “What’s the description of the services you offer? Maybe a cute tagline or a hook?”

  Flashes of Mercy’s dad blazed through Clara’s head. And blips, small ones, of every time she saw a cute tourist and immediately sized him up as unavailable only to keep her eye on him during a long weekend on the lake. That’s how things went in Birch Harbor. You saw the same people over and again. And yet, where were all these matches? Where was the opportunity for romance in Birch Harbor? Maybe Megan was onto something after all. Clara wondered aloud, “What if your angle has to do with, like, location, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Megan’s eyes widened and she nodded slowly. “I like that. Something like… find love anywhere.”

  “Or,” Clara offered carefully, typing the words as she said them, “Birch Harbor: come for the lake, stay for the love.”

  13

  Kate

  With three social media accounts established by supper and the men en route to join them, Kate felt frantic. They’d spent the whole day online which had her eyes burning. Bringing Clara in to help really woke Kate up to what she’d been lacking in her own “digital presences” and even online marketing.

  More than ever, she realized that both Megan and the Heirloom Inn now needed someone who could work their websites. Someone a little more professional than Clara.

  “Brian,” Megan said on a sigh, when Kate asked about taking everything a step further. “He’s a whiz. He could bang out a website in an hour if he had to.”

  “Is he joining us for dinner?” Kate asked.

  Sarah answered from her station in a kitchen chair, curled up with her phone, ever the teenager. “Yep. He just texted me and asked if the other guys were coming.”

  Amelia chimed in. “Michael is.”

  “I’m not sure about Matt,” Kate replied. “I invited him,” she flicked a quick glance at Clara, who seemed to twitch. Maybe it was Kate’s imagination. “But he’s with Vivi.”

  “Yes!” Sarah cheered from her seat. “Please! Have him bring Vivi!”

  Kate’s stomach churned. “I don’t know,” she replied to her niece. “Could be a little complicated.” Kate could feel heat from her youngest sister. Her… daughter.

  “Actually,” Clara began, “maybe that would be nice.”

  All eyes turned to the petite blonde who sat at the island, quiet and still. The master of the monitors. The queen of their marketing push.

  “Huh?” The word fell out of Amelia heavily.

  Clara shrugged. “We don’t have to say anything. If Matt hasn’t told her, then we don’t have to say anything at all.”

  Sarah interjected. “So, let me get this straight. We’re still keeping the secret? The Kate-Clara one?”

  Kate let out a long sigh. The whole matter was a sore spot, still. Uncomfortable. Like an elephant in every room, and she was well aware that even though she was excited to reunite Matt and Clara, the latter wanted no part. Should they tear down those walls now? Or add another truss?

  “It’s up to Clara, I say,” she pronounced as she crossed her arms over her chest and directed a gentle gaze on the young woman she’d longed to cuddle. To wrap up in a hug and inhale her scent and wonder what could be left of their beginning. Had the faulty adoption ruined everything? Surely not.

  Clara cleared her throat. “What’s the point of keeping the secret? That’s what I want to know. Maybe the world has a right to know.”

  “Do you want the world to know?” Megan asked. She had a point. If they knew one thing about Clara, it was her repulsion toward attention.

  Swallowing audibly, Clara frowned. “I don’t want them to know. I just… it seems like you are all just moving on, and I’m still sort of—” she pressed her palm to her head, wincing then finding her words and recovering. “I feel as if I’m stuck in the same place I always was. This limbo of relationships. Even growing up, when I thought Nora was my mother, well… I wasn’t your sister.” She glanced along the room, pausing at each face and holding Kate’s gaze finally.

  Kate crossed the floor and twisted Clara away from the computers, holding her shoulders. “You were always our sister. You were always Nora’s daughter, too. Nothing will change that. And I bet Nora wouldn’t want us to change that, honestly.” Kate looked at the others. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Actually,” Amelia answered, “despite the dramatic diary entry,
I’m positive Mom would never want it to get out. It’s a small town. What would that have done to her reputation? I mean, didn’t she want to hide it forever? Wasn’t that the whole point to begin with? The reason we spent a summer in Arizona? The reason Kate stayed at the cottage when she came back?”

  A wisp of Clara’s blonde hair loosed from her temple, and Kate caught it in her fingers, tucking it behind her ear then catching the girl’s stare. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve just…” She lifted her gaze to the others, then squeezed Clara’s shoulders. “I’ve waited to be your mom forever. But I guess I can do that without announcing it to the world, right?”

  “So, we’re keeping the secret?” Sarah prodded.

  “It’s what Mom would want,” Amelia added.

  Megan agreed.

  But Kate bore her eyes into Clara’s. “Clara Katherine Hannigan, what do you want?”

  Clara bit down on her lower lip, her brows furrowing together as she crunched the thought in her brain. Kate realized it was a big question. Burdensome and riddled with implications. She opened her mouth to take it back and start over somehow, but Clara opened her mouth to answer.

  “I don’t want the eyes of Birch Harbor on me. Not now. Maybe never, but not now. I’m ready to come out of my shell a little bit. I see that,” she glanced around them. “I do. But Mom took a lot of pains to build a life for herself here, one in which everything was perfect. Her house was perfect until she moved to the cottage which was perfect until she had no more energy or mental capacity. She wasn’t a perfect mother, though. She just wanted everyone to see it in her. It doesn’t matter anymore that she’d erected a façade. But we can definitely honor her memory by keeping it in place. As much as possible, and who cares about the truth? Even if it did get out,” Clara twisted her head directly to Sarah. “Who will care? It’s old news, right?”

  Kate blinked. “So, then… lips sealed?” she mimed zipping her mouth closed and twisting a key at the center.

  Clara shrugged. “For now, yes. We have enough on our plates. The Inn. The lighthouse. Megan’s venture. Even Amelia’s search. I think if we can swoop down under the radar, that’s a better idea than to draw in a crowd for the wrong reason.”

  Nodding, Kate pulled Clara into a hug. “Then that’s the plan,” she answered, her voice low. Then, louder. “We keep it secret. For now. Clara is the miles-younger sister. Sarah’s aunt when school starts,” she lifted an eye at Sarah then at Megan, who both nodded. Finally, she added, “And we get back to discussing how we will draw a crowd for the right reasons.”

  The others agreed in various tones, but Sarah piped up once more. “Can I be friends with Vivi?”

  A disquiet pooled in Kate’s stomach. There was no reason to keep the girls apart. It might help Sarah acclimate, after all. But Clara might be tossed right in the middle. She said as much to the group.

  Clara, though, replied reasonably. “Actually, I think if we’re upholding the status quo, then yes. Bring Vivi. She seems fun, anyway. She might even distract us from the whole drama, right?” Kate watched Clara and her niece share a warm look, and it was settled.

  Matt and Vivi would join them for dinner. They’d ask Brian for tech support. Michael could keep playing lawyer and detective with Amelia. Everyone was going to be perfect. They could breathe easy and get back to living. Thriving. Building their new small-town businesses in the place they called home.

  The only thing that could get in their way was their own internal family drama. But with that neatly stored in a symbolic hope chest, they were safe. Safe to move on.

  14

  Megan

  By the time the weekend rolled around, Hannigan Field and its upcoming, as-of-yet unnamed, event was well underway. With Brian’s expertise and Clara and Sarah’s social media smarts, Megan had garnered over one hundred “followers” and even had a newspaper ad set for Saturday morning. What’s more, she managed to submit a (somewhat last-minute) proposal to the town for a public event permit. Birch Harbor Town Council was big on permits. They had to be with such a transient summer population. Otherwise, any Tom, Dick, or Harry would set up a cherry-picking venture one month only to be gone the next. It was something admirable about the town, really. That they wanted endurance. Staying power. Megan felt proud to submit her request.

  Operation Matchmaking Biz was coming together.

  The idea of adjusting to her living situation in Birch Harbor, however, had flown out the window.

  First, she’d crammed her life into the little room in the Inn. Now, she was unpacking the bare essentials in Clara’s old one-bedroom bungalow, aptly named for its cozy space. Brian, too, had started moving his clothes and personal effects from the townhome, which added a new cramp: that of sharing an apartment with the man Megan was so certain she’d fallen out of love with.

  The added certainty that Megan would not, no, no, no, not stay in the bungalow long-term made the new move even worse. She felt like a vagrant with no end in sight. No final destination. Just waiting for a real home to appear out of the dust.

  Though he had weeks left on his lease agreement near the city, Brian decided that he’d better start spending more time with Megan to help with the mixer. She agreed. Whole-heartedly, in fact.

  When he was not around, she suspected Brian was working his rear off to secure his own providence. Though each time she asked about his app idea, he brushed her off. She knew Brian wasn’t the sort to sit and wait for things to come to him. He was decisive and determined, and her biggest dread was that he was left to look for a better job in Detroit after all.

  Especially since he ended up insisting that Megan take their savings and use it for her business plan.

  She kicked back at the idea, initially. First, she argued that he’d already laid claim to it when he decided to pursue his own software development. When he said he could make do without, for the time being, she still protested. It wasn’t hers to use. It was for emergencies only. She could make money elsewhere. She could ask her sisters for help. Again, after nothing stuck, she looped back to his original request for the money. He was going to follow his dream, right?

  But Brian had said no to it all. He could seek investors, which would be better. And anyway, the Stevenson checking account could float them for a little while. Besides, he eventually came to admit, he had a secondary prospect.

  Her worries over the whole thing escalated the evening prior, Friday night, when Brian showed up at the apartment, late, ready to stay over for the first time.

  Initially, they fumbled. He came in with two pieces of luggage. One an overnight duffle, probably. The other a bigger suitcase, heavy and awkward. She’d opened the door and tried to help, but he shooed her off. Once Megan asked if he wanted to unpack, he’d just shaken his head, studying the apartment as if seeing it for the first time.

  Later, they struggled to get the sofa bed pulled out. They struggled searching for an extra blanket. And pillow.

  Then, once they gave up on the whole bed thing and each sat across from each other with a glass of water, the window AC unit working hard against the heavy humidity that only then had begun to fall off outside, Brian revealed that her suspicions were true. That he had an interview lined up with one of Detroit’s biggest manufacturing companies for a software engineering position. Exactly the sort of job he’d been trained to do. The one he’d done forever. It wasn’t forward movement on the app. It wasn’t something closer to the lake. It was the usual. The disappointing history of his professional career.

  It is what it is, Brian had growled through a sigh, and Megan, for the first time in their marriage, was unwilling to accept something so amorphous. She fought him on the point. Told him he could have the savings; that he had to take it and had to get to work right away on his app!

  That’s when he reminded her there was a whole different issue. He needed something to drive the tech. A pitchable, fundable idea that would serve a need, remember, Megan?

  She scoffed, and they went to b
ed. Her in the bedroom with zero pillows and a quilt. Him in the living room with one pillow and no blanket.

  The next morning, however, proved to be a small fresh start.

  At the crack of dawn, as Megan was quietly standing in the kitchen, measuring half a cup of coffee grounds, a thwap slapped beyond the front door. Brian stirred awake; Megan glanced at him, nervous he’d be tired and cranky.

  He wasn’t though. He didn’t roll back over and huddle under his pillow. He stretched up, yawned, scratched his head, and grinned at her.

  “Morning,” he grumbled softly.

  She smiled back. “Good morning.”

  The last time they’d seen each other that early in the morning, he’d left the bed before she woke up. Now, the tables had turned. She caught him. His sleepy stubble along the jaw. A small twitch just before he stirred. He was at once boyish and manly when he slept, a funny juxtaposition to Megan. Sweet, even.

  “What was that?” he looked toward the door. Megan finished setting the coffee maker and strode past him, opening it and glancing out suspiciously. Just before she closed it, she looked down to see a thin, rubber-banded newspaper cutting a nostalgic image across their doormat.

  Clara hadn’t changed her subscription address yet. Funny girl, a twenty-something who read a real live physical newspaper each morning. She wasn’t the scrolling young woman she’d spoken of when they were discussing how to matchmake people her age.

  Megan bent over and scooped it up, holding it in the air like a trophy for Brian to admire.

  Slapping it on her hand, she carried it to the table.

  “That’s good timing,” Brian said as he pulled himself from the sofa bed and started to tuck the single sheet neatly beneath the mattress before folding it with one, smooth lift-and-push back into position.

  “You mean my ad?” she asked, setting the paper down and moving to the fridge in search of eggs.