Page 35 of Summer Light on Nantucket

What a revelation.

“Mom! We’re back!”

Holly and Carolyn were the first to come in through the front door. They launched themselves into the room, both talking at once about the handsome young Irishman who played the fiddle on Main Street and the adorable little girl who spontaneously danced to his music and were any cookies left and they were going to get up early tomorrow and run down to Jetties Beach to watch the sun rise.

Blythe managed to squeeze in a motherly reminder. “Be sure to brush your teeth before you go to bed.”

“Okay, Mom!” Holly started to run up the stairs, but in a quick change of mood, she raced back into the living room, and hugged Blythe. “Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.”

Blythe returned to her mystery, listening with half an ear to the sounds coming from the second floor. Bathroom door opening and closing. Laughter. Bedroom door opening and closing. Muffled laughter.

She remembered being that age, when everything made her laugh. At eleven, Blythe had considered the world incomprehensible and surprising, with something unexpected happening every day. Tonight, Blythe felt that way again.

When Daphne arrived, she was talking on her phone.

“Hang on,” she said to whoever was on the other side. “I’ve got to check in.” She stuck her head into the living room. “Hi, Mom. I’m going to bed now.”

“Don’t spend all night on the phone,” Blythe said.

“I won’t.” Daphne trudged up the stairs to her bedroom, still talking on her phone. “But I like the pale pink skirt.”

It’s a friend,Blythe thought.Daphne has a friend, and how could that be anything but wonderful?Daphne could be a loner, an introvert, and Blythe knew she couldn’t change her, and sessions with her therapist taught her that sheshouldn’tchange Daphne. She might not want to be popular, but she had been close to Johnny before he moved away. Now she had a few serious friends like Lincoln, plus her ongoing passion for saving the world, and what parent could object to that?Blythe’s own parents adored Daphne above all Daphne’s siblings, and they often sent her important books about world problems needing solving likeMaid: Hard Work, Low Pay,anda Mother’s Will to SurviveandThe Soul of an Octopus.Blythe wished her daughter would read some of her older sister’s romance novels with knights and peasants and wishing wells to balance out the harsh realities.

Blythe’s ears perked up when she heard two male voices coming toward the house. Had Teddy invited someone to sleep over? The guys were comparing Minecraft and Fortnite, two video games Teddy played at home. The front door slammed and Teddy and Brooks entered, engrossed in their discussion, and Miranda followed.

Teddy and Brooks went down the hall to the family room. Miranda came into the living room and threw herself right onto Blythe’s lap. She was taller than Blythe, but much slimmer, with long, long legs. Blythe felt like she was embracing a flamingo.

“Honestly, Teddy is driving me psycho. He talked with Brooks all the way home. I think Brooks has forgotten I even exist.” Miranda put her arms around Blythe’s neck. “Mommy, make Teddy go away.”

Certain things Blythe knew at once. One simple breath produced a small explosion of information in her thoughts: no hint of alcohol or pot or even cigarettes.

Blythe kissed Miranda’s cheek. “What would you do without me?”

She gently shoved her daughter off her lap and stood up. After smoothing her wrinkled shirt, she went into the hall.

She called out, “Teddy? Wherever you are, Teddy, you need to go to bed. Tennis tomorrow morning.”

“Going, Mom!” Teddy burst out of the family room and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Miranda approached Blythe and hugged her from behind. “You’re so cool, Mommy.”

“I love you, too.” Blythe slipped around to face Miranda. “Now you have to help Brooks get settled for the night. And then go up to your own room. No dawdling. It’s late for all of us.”

“Okay.” Miranda drifted away down the hall and into the family room.

Blythe double-checked the kitchen and the porch lights at the front and back doors.

At the door to the family room, she said, “Miranda. Now.”

Miranda detached herself from Brooks, who was standing in his black sleep shorts and red T-shirt with a silk screen of Patrick Mahomes bellowing like a moose.

The pullout sofa bed was already made up with cotton sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

“Do you have everything you need, Brooks?” Blythe asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Brooks replied.

“Brooks travels all the time,” Miranda said. “He knows how to pack. Someday we’re going to backpack through Europe.”

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