“Damn you,” Jess whispered. “Seriously, don’t you ever look tired?”
Maggie smiled and batted her eyelashes. “You should see how many gallons of concealer I have on these bags.”
“Next?” The concierge motioned them up to the desk. “I hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said pleasantly as she took Jess’s room key, then Maggie’s.
“We did,” said Jess. “Thank you.” After they’d paid and Maggie took a package from the concierge, the sisters went to join the rest of the family in the lounging area.
“Well, it looks like this is it.” Maggie’s voice cracked, and Jess suddenly noticed the tears streaking her sister’s face. Maggie pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a softie. I’ve always hated good-byes.”
“Oh, Mags.” Virgie bounced up. “I’ll see you really soon, okay? I love you.” And before she knew it, everyone was embracing and saying their good-byes.
Jess caught Jackson standing off to one side, his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking slightly at sea. “Don’t worry. We almost never do this,” she reassured him across the group hug, and he laughed.
“Okay,” he said. “Good. I think.”
After a few more minutes, the family disentangled themselves. Virgie and Jackson were staying an extra night, and Maggie teased that Jackson better look after their sister or he’d have Maggie to answer to. Gloria would drive back to Boston after visiting some friends in town. “Till tomorrow, then,” Maggie said. It was an old saying, one she always liked to offer at the end of their holiday gatherings, precisely because she hated saying good-bye. Somehow it made the leaving seem easier. Maggie flipped her sunglasses back down on her face.
“Give those precious grandchildren kisses for me,” Gloria ordered.
“We will, Mom,” Jess said as she fell in step behind Maggie. They headed for the revolving doors, and Jess gave a little wave over her shoulder.
“See you soon!” called Virgie.
Jess couldn’t recall the last time Virgie had looked so happy. Nor could she recall the last time all the sisters had been together outside of the beach house. Odd how Arthur’s passing had precipitated everything. What a long summer it had been! And yet, what strides everyone had made. She thought secretly that Arthur was looking down on them, gratified to see that the mess of his life had become the very catalyst to bring them together again, to cast clarity on their own jumbled lives. It would be good to have Virgie closer to home. And in a strange turn of events, thought Jess, in losing Arthur, they’d gotten Gloria back. However loosely, their mother was knitted into their lives again.
Perhaps, Jess thought, she was beginning to understand the conundrum that was her life—at least a little. And she realized with a start that she was happy, too. For the first time in a long time, she was truly, honest-to-goodness happy: she had her husband back; her kids were showered with love; she had a job that made a difference in the world; and she’d shown up for her sisters when it mattered. They were a family who had been tested—and tested again. And they’d survived.
In the parking lot, Jess leaned in to give Maggie a hug before climbing into the car. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” Maggie asked.
“Everything. For helping me get my marriage back.” Jess settled into the driver’s seat.
“You did that. You know that, right?” said Maggie.
Jess shrugged, then smiled. “I guess. Well, till tomorrow then,” she said. “And I mean it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I know you will,” said Maggie. “That’s what makes this okay.”
Jess waved to her sister as she drove out of the hotel parking lot. The sun shone down as the car passed the local flower shop and a string of seaside homes fronted by wide porches. When she rolled down her window, a cool, salty breeze washed over her. She wanted to breathe it in, to take it all in, so that she could conjure this moment whenever she might need it at school or even back home. Because she didn’t want to be fooled into thinking ever again that life should be a certain way or that marriages should follow a certain path—and that if they didn’t, then something was the matter. Because she understood now that it was all necessary, even the heartache. She recalled a quote from a book she’d been reading last night by one of her favorite authors, Annie Dillard. She’d been searching for words to make sense of Arthur’s death, but instead she’d found a statement that seemed appropriate to the entire summer, her entire year. She had highlighted the line in bright yellow ink:
If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary.
It had been a long night. But Jess had found her stars this summer, indeed an entire dark sky studded with stars. She switched on the radio, pulled onto the ramp for the highway, and fastened her eyes on the bright road ahead, eager to get home to her husband and kids.
Maggie
After breakfast, Maggie carted all the books back to the library. She wanted to understand why her dad had collected so much stuff, but now she realized she probably never would. Not fully. There was a part of her that got it: Arthur had wanted to hold on to every little thing in case he needed it. Perhaps after losing Gloria, he began to worry that it was only a matter of time before he lost all that he cared about—the rest of his family, his mind. He had gathered every piece that might one day be of significance.
She phoned Mac to let him know she was on her way home and offered a quick update: the ceremony had been lovely, but she and Jess would probably need to come back over the next few weekends to help finish things up. There was still work to be done on the house. Oh, and Virgie was moving back! Into Arthur’s house. They weren’t going to sell after all. Her sister was slowing down and was going to try to figure out next steps in light of her diagnosis.
“Good for her,” Mac said, sounding genuinely pleased. “It’ll be nice for all of you to be together again. And moving into your old house. How about that?” He waited a beat. “Arthur would love to hear it, I’ll bet.”
“I know. Talk about coming full circle.”
“Did you get our package?” Mac asked.
“Package?” Her chest tightened. “No. Oh, no! Was it something for the memorial service?” She panicked that she’d missed something important.
“No, no, nothing like that. Just a little something the kids put together for you. They thought it might cheer you up.”
“Oh, how sweet. I’ll have to check. You sent it to the hotel?”
“Yes, should have arrived yesterday.”
After she’d she pulled up to the hotel, Maggie was headed for the front desk when she bumped into Gloria, treating herself to the free Danishes and coffee. “Oh, honey, can you help me? I can’t seem to get my suitcase shut. I’m afraid I’ve packed it to the hilt. You know how I am—can never seem to decide what to take and what to leave at home.”
“Sure, Mom.” She followed Gloria back to her room. When Maggie caught sight of the suitcase yawning on the hotel bed, she burst out laughing. “You weren’t kidding!” Shirts, skirts, and scarves stuck out everywhere. A stray shoe sat forlornly next to the bag, as if it had long ago given up searching for its match. Maggie flipped open the top and worked for a few minutes to rearrange her mother’s clothing. At last, when it looked as if it might close, she jumped on top and tugged the zipper from one end to the other.
“There!” she exclaimed, triumphant. When she hopped off, she saw the suitcase was slightly misshapen with a raised lump in the corner, but it would do. She yanked it off the bed with a loud thunk.
“Thank you, honey. I could have never gotten that thing closed without you,” Gloria said and laughed, tucking her blond hair behind her ears.
“You’re welcome. Here to help anytime.” Maggie felt the words come out with more meaning than she’d intended, but Gloria drew her into a hug nevertheless.
“I know you are, honey. It means a lot. Especially now with your father gone.”
Maggie pulle
d back slightly. It was the first time she could remember her mother admitting any vulnerability since leaving Arthur. The first time she’d hinted that Arthur had filled a void, even in her single life. Maggie had always assumed her mom still loved Arthur, that a love of forty-six years didn’t simply vanish with a snap of the fingers. But she’d also assumed that her mother called Arthur regularly as a way to assuage her own guilt over leaving him. Now, Maggie wondered if Gloria had been equally adrift, missing her husband but too proud to admit it. Would Gloria pick up the phone one night in the upcoming weeks and dial Arthur’s number out of sheer habit, expecting to hear his voice? Had those talks been as important to her as they were to him? Maggie felt a knot form under her breastbone. Was it possible that Gloria had been faking her happiness, her joie de vivre for the last year and a half? That shortly after the divorce she’d regretted her decision, and they’d never known?
Of course, her mother would never give voice to those thoughts. But it was shocking to consider that perhaps Gloria had longed for Arthur as much as he had longed for her. Maggie gazed into her mother’s soft blue eyes and smiled. She had missed all the signs with Arthur. She would not make the same mistake with Gloria.
“We’ll stay in better touch, Mom. I promise,” she said now, hugging her back.
“I’d like that,” Gloria said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
When Maggie got back to her room, she packed quickly, throwing everything in without any mind to what was dirty and what was clean. It was unlike her, but a lot of what had happened in the last weeks was unlikely. She felt a small sliver of herself ceding control. She’d struggled for so long to keep her world neatly organized, and look where it had gotten her. Hah! Arthur was gone. Lexie had spent most of the summer in a funk. Virgie was fighting MS. Jess and Tim were fighting for their marriage. And even Mac, her dear, sweet Mac, wasn’t entirely ready to jump on board with her idea of fostering a child.
Maggie was ready to cry “Uncle!” to the universe. “You win!” she shouted as she struggled to zip her suitcase shut. Arthur didn’t have OCD, but Maggie feared that her own tendencies in that direction could tumble down a slippery slope. Was there a switch in the brain that could just as easily turn her obsession with neatness into an obsession with stuff? Maggie didn’t know, but she desperately did not want to find out.
No, this summer had given her a new perspective. Her battle to keep everything the same had been lost. How silly of her. Of course, the girls and Luke were growing up. That was a good thing. Of course, there would be setbacks in the family. That was life. Certain traditions would be kept; others would be tossed, and new ones would take their place. Life is change, Mac had counseled her. At the time, she’d thought it trite, but now she was struck by its authenticity. She couldn’t freeze time. Nor, she realized now, did she want to.
She headed for the lobby, where everyone had already gathered in the semicircle of lounge chairs and couches at the front. She waved and joined Jess in the checkout line. When she reached the front desk, she realized she’d almost forgotten. “Excuse me, but do you have a package for Maggie McNeil?” She turned to Jess. “Mac said the kids made something to cheer me up.”
“That is so sweet,” said Jess. The young concierge ducked his head behind the desk for a moment and returned with a padded envelope the approximate size of a book.
“Is this what you’re looking for, ma’am?”
“I believe so. Thank you.” She took the package from him and stuck it in her shoulder bag before heading over to the others. Tears began to bud at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a softie,” she said. “I’ve always hated good-byes.” Virgie jumped up to hug her, and suddenly everyone was hugging each other.
Maggie pulled away at last.
“Bye, Mom. We’ll talk soon, all right?” Gloria nodded. “In fact, why don’t I plan to call you in a few days?” Maggie asked. She pressed her lips together. Hadn’t she just promised herself she’d stop planning every minute of everyone’s life? But this was important. She wanted her mom to know that she and Mac and the kids were there for her.
“Okay,” Gloria agreed. “That sounds good.”
Maggie swiveled and turned her attention to Jackson. “Jackson, we like you. Don’t screw things up with my sister, okay?” He stared at her uneasily and then laughed when they all broke into laughter.
“She’s kidding,” Virgie explained. “Sort of.”
“Virgie, honey,” Maggie said “I love you. We’ll see you soon.” She cleared her throat. “Till tomorrow then.” She offered her standard parting phrase and flipped her sunglasses down as she felt more tears coming. She and Jess headed out to the parking lot.
At the car, they exchanged hugs, and Jess promised to call her tomorrow.
Maggie went over to her beat-up Subaru, a few parking spaces away, and unlocked it. She hoisted her suitcase into the trunk and then climbed into the front seat, dropping her shoulder bag on the passenger seat. That was when she noticed the yellow envelope poking out. She’d nearly forgotten. She stopped and extracted it.
When she ripped it open, a faint cry escaped from her lips. There, in her hands, was a yellow notebook with red and purple flowers twirling across it. Each one had a different little face (the girls’ work, no doubt). A small raccoon face that Luke must have drawn peered out from the top right corner. In the center were scrawled the words The Book of Summer II.
“Oh,” she whispered.
She opened it, and on the first page, she began to read the long list of milestones and quotes from last month: Luke dove off the pier! Grammy went skinny-dipping! Maggie raised her hand to her mouth and covered her laugh. There was a whole stream of memories in the girls’ slanted cursive, including Lexie dumped Sophie out of the hammock. Lexie punched Sophie! Slowly, the tears began to fall as Maggie read on. Grandpa built a trap for Roger, the raccoon. We got a new teakettle. Aunt Virgie fainted and got to ride in an ambulance! Mom, Aunt Virgie, and Aunt Jess ate three cartons of ice cream in one night! It was all here, all the new memories they’d created, good and bad.
She turned the page and kept reading until her eyes fell on the very last one: The McNeils add a new member to the family, a foster child? It was in Mac’s handwriting.
It was listed as a question, but it was there. On the list, for them to decide as a family. Could it be the next step forward, building on all that was precious, on all that they were already fortunate to have? How appropriate, Maggie thought, their new Book of Summer. As with the last notebook, this one would document the best, the funniest, the most outrageous of their memories. But as Maggie had also come to understand, the family journal was as much about the promise of next summer, of a new year, as it was about the summer before. Each July stitched a bright new color in their family flag. Maggie brushed away tears as she closed the notebook and gently set it on the passenger seat.
She hooked her seat belt, checked her rearview mirror, and slowly began to pull away from the hotel. She was driving away from her childhood town, her old home, from memories of Arthur. From so many things that had shaped her into the person she was. But the hint of a smile played on her lips as she traveled forward, only forward in this sweet journey, this wonderful mess that was her life.
Because she knew in her heart that she was along for the ride. No matter what. For every beautiful mile of it.
Acknowledgments
The list of people to thank seems to grow exponentially with each book. I’m grateful to so many who have encouraged me along the way, including my gifted editor, Trish Todd; my wonderfully supportive agent, Meg Ruley; and the entire crew at Simon & Schuster.
If a girl can’t have sisters, she ought to have her own group of best friends: for me, that group consists of my “roomies”—Barb, Katherine, Lisa, and Lora—the best surrogate sisters a girl could hope for, as well as my dear friends Lori and Jennifer. My sisters-in-law—Marian, Lynne, Nichole, and Linda—have also offered great support and much-needed laugh
ter during the past year. A special thank-you to my in-laws, Barbara and Leo Francis, whose own New England home has provided endless summers of good memories and late-night bonfires on the beach (and fortunately, not nearly as much drama as this novel).
To my brother, Pedro: thanks for the invaluable car “edits” to the book. To my amazing stepkids, Michael and Katherine, I appreciate your letting me bounce a million titles off you and appropriately wrinkling your noses when they were no good. And to Mike and Nicholas: no one makes me smile more than you two. Thanks for always being my cheerleaders and for giving me the much-needed quiet time at my desk for writing.
In writing this book, I learned about hoarding and the impulses behind it. Randy Frost and Gail Steketee’s book, Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things helped to illuminate the life of a hoarder as did countless stories from friends and strangers who confided in me about a relative who’d kept his obsession with stuff a secret from the family, in many cases, for years.
I also researched multiple sclerosis to better understand Virgie’s character. While I spoke to a handful of people and doctors, it was a family friend, Susan, who spent large chunks of time talking with me about MS, its onset, and its possible progression. I am awed by her and others like her who struggle with this daunting illness each and every day. While we’ve made great strides in treatment, we need more: may we soon have a drug that can permanently keep the symptoms of MS at bay. Any medical errors within the story are my own.
For every author, I believe there is someone who inspires her to write; for me, that person was my mom, who passed away from leukemia in October 2014. Though she was never able to read this novel, we talked about it a great deal, and it was her belief in the power of the written word that kept me writing, even during her illness. She was and always will be my “big sister.”
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