Page 2 of Meet Me on Lilac Lane

He shook her hand and she hurried out of the building. She put her purse into the bike trailer, then flung a leg over her bicycle and rode slowly down Main Street. So many of the storefronts closed and shuttered. Abandoned by their owners, the deterioration beginning to show. Some of the buildings had cracked windows, siding sagged, one even had plywood where plate glass used to be. Martha’s on Main was still open though, as was Good Day Coffee and Kelley’s Bar & Grill. The Kelley siblings—Frank, Patrick, and Jill—had pretty much a monopoly on the restaurants in town.

After dodging a few tourists, she paused outside a small storefront. Gray clapboard siding rose to a peak at the top of the structure. Large windowpanes let in the light. Closed now, the store once held Sampson’s, a small art studio and gift shop. If she squinted, she could almost picture her teenage self at the till, ringing up a customer and dreaming of the day she owned her own gallery.

A cold wet sensation in her hand startled her, and she looked down to see a scruffy Jack Russell terrier nuzzling her palm. “Hello, Jack.”

The dog lived on the streets of Jonathon Island. He belonged to no one and to everyone. Everyone fed him, and some gave him a place to stay overnight when he deigned to let them. Sometimes Mia thought he should run for mayor—the dog would definitely win.

She scratched behind his ears. “Do you have any idea how to raise enough money to pay a mortgage?” The dog gave a soft roo-roo and then trotted off. “Some help you are.”

Her phone buzzed with a text from her mom’s number.

Mom

Can you bring a loaf of bread? I forgot to pick one up.

Mia

Sure. Be there soon.

Better quit daydreaming and get back to Finn and Maggie. She pedaled through town and turned into the neighboring street until she came to her own. Hanging a right, she headed halfway down, then turned into the front yard of her little house on Lilac Lane.

The small two bedroom, one and a half floor craftsman sat nested between two much larger houses. The white siding was flaking off near the bottom of the walls. And one shutter hung askew alongside the living room window. These imperfections didn’t stop the rush of tenderness deep in her core every time she spotted the home she and Troy had worked so hard on.

They’d gotten plenty done on the inside, including updating the bedrooms and bathroom, but other than painting the front door, they hadn’t managed to spruce up the outside before the boating accident.

And now she might lose it.

She shoved the thought into a far corner of her brain—it was getting crowded back there—as she ran past the lilac at the front door and then inside to grab a loaf of French bread from the kitchen at the back of the house. In the kitchen sink, dishes from the morning’s breakfast sat waiting for her to scrub the dried-on scrambled eggs. She ignored the urge to move the laundry into the dryer. Being late for supper wasn’t an option. Back outside, she tucked the bread next to her purse and took off again.

A few miles of hard biking gave her time to bury the past hour deep into her heart before the weekly family dinner with her parents.

Her parents’ grand house with its sweeping porch and turrets came into view at the northern tip of the island. Jonathon Island had been named for her great-great something grandfather, Jacob Jonathon, who had established the first settlement in the early 1800s.

Kicking down the bike’s kickstand, she parked on the lawn. Along the front porch, Adirondack chairs waited for lounging guests. Near each support beam hung the baskets of flowers she and her siblings had chipped in on for Mother’s Day a few days before—a Mother’s Day she had spent at home with Finn because he had a fever.

She reached into her bag for a Kleenex and her hand brushed a ragged piece of paper. What the…? She pulled out her tattered envelope still stuffed full of cash. Across the front in a slanted script, Mr. Michaelson had written “for the children.” She pressed a hand to her mouth for a heartbeat then straightened her shoulders and walked up to the porch.

Following her nose, tickled with the scent of her mother’s signature spaghetti sauce, she headed straight for the kitchen.

Finn chased Maggie around the butcher block center island, and her dad, Liam, and Dani were talking over in the far right corner. At the stove her mom stirred a pot, and her big sister, Evie, was pulling plates out of the green-paneled cabinets on the other side of the kitchen.

Mia crossed the room and kissed her mother on the cheek. Her mom’s gray-streaked, dark, bobbed hair brushed her cheek, and the scent of her gardenia perfume wafted over Mia.

“Hi, honey.” Her mom didn’t look up from the pot. “We’re almost ready here. Can you take care of the bread?”

“No problem.” Mia took a place at the island, slicing the bread and giving it a generous coating of butter before adding some garlic salt, wrapping the whole thing in foil and slipping it into the oven.

Dani crossed the kitchen and gave Mia a hug. “Good to see you, cuz.” She pulled back a bit. “What’s wrong?” A crease formed between Dani’s green eyes.

Mia pasted on a smile. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Dani raised one eyebrow. “I’m not buying it. We’ll talk later.” Her cousin moved to the silverware drawer and scooped up a handful of forks before heading to the dining room.

I’ll give you one more month.The banker’s words swirled through her head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it with a burst when someone ran into the back of her legs.

Her eyes flew open. Finn blinked up at her. “Finn!”

“Sorry, Mommy.” He moved around her and dashed three steps before her dad swooped him up into his arms.

---