Page 20 of Patio Lanterns

Robin nodded. “I hear you packed my niece in your carry-on.”

Lark laughed. “Nova’s asleep. But I’m looking forward to having both her aunties around to change diapers.”

Robin shuddered. “Sorry, but no. Dove can be on diaper watch. I’m the fun auntie. No crying, no fussing, no poo. Fun only.”

“Well, two-year-olds are plenty of fun, but they also make plenty of poo,” Lark said, laughing. “So, we’ll see just how long your plan lasts, fun auntie.”

“With any luck, the entire time we’re up here,” Robin said, the bag of dog food starting to slip from beneath her arm. Jostling the bag back into place, it reminded her that she had her own poo machine to take care of now. “See you guys in a few.”

“Sounds good,” Lark said. “Oh, and Robin, I have a surprise for you.”

Robin tilted her head to the side. “A good surprise, or like, a diaper-full-of-bad surprise?”

Lark laughed. “You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Robin grimaced and stuck out her tongue. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Trust me,” Lark said, a sneaky grin playing at the corners of her mouth, “this is one you’re going to love.”

9

Robin

Being back inside the family cottage stirred up unexpected melancholy in Robin. While the layout was the same, nearly everything else had changed. The Blue Canoe Cottage she’d grown up in had a welcoming tiki hut vibe. A tacky-chic blend of clashing furniture denoted function over fashion, punctuated by seashell lamps, wicker accessories, and pillows stitched with cheeky sayings like Resting Beach Face. It was a perfectly mismatched collection curated through years of hand-me-downs, yard sale finds, and treasured gifts.

Robin didn’t know what in the blessed name of Debbie Travis had happened to the cottage she remembered, but its laid-back, kitschy goodness had been replaced with bland, minimalist décor and unexceptional, mass-manufactured furniture. Even the seafoam board-and-batten walls were gone. In their place was trendy shiplap painted in a luxe mayonnaise hue that her well-meaning mother probably paid far too much for because it was from the signature collection of Micki Pelletier’s latest favourite HGTV designer.

No matter how many coats of Alabaster Serenity Whateverthefuck were now on the walls, they still couldn’t cover the memories. But the style choice did mark a stark juxtaposition between past and present—one foot planted in the cottage’s well-preserved family history, the other in the discounted home goods section at Winners.

Like in the kitchen, for example, where the renovation was only half complete. Sleek new countertops and a tiled backsplash awash in the blues and greens of the Mediterranean Sea had been installed, yet the cupboards were starkly naked without door fronts, and the crooked drawers still had loose pull handles. Also remaining were the slanted pine floors, the fabric panel that draped in front of the pantry, the beat-up cabinets with deeply grooved dings, and the farmhouse sink, stained from years and years of use, so rustic it had circled back to being stylish again.

“What’s the matter?” Dove asked Robin as they worked to unpack the sixth and seventh bags of groceries they’d shlepped from the city. Surprising how much fit inside a well-packed Land Rover.

“It’s changed,” Robin said sadly.

“What’s changed?”

“This place. Being here together. One second, it feels so familiar, and the next, you turn around…” Her voice trailed off when her eyes landed on her mother’s urn, situated on the kitchen counter. “And you realize that nothing will ever be the same.”

“Were you expecting a time capsule?” Lark asked, bouncing Nova on her hip as she loaded celery and peppers into the vegetable crisper.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Robin said. “I mean, I know Mom and Dad were doing work on the place, I just didn’t think it was so…”

“Extensive?” Dove filled in.

“Memory erasing. Seems that everything I used to love about this cottage has been painted over or removed altogether.”

“As if!” Lark cackled. “You hated being at the cottage.”

True, Robin never shared the immense connection to the cottage as the rest of her family, but it clearly held some space in a tiny, dark corner of her heart. “I may not have been as attached as you two, but I certainly wouldn’t say I hated it.”

“You could’ve kept coming up here with the rest of us, but I think it was especially hurtful to Mom and Dad that you chose not to,” Lark said.

“Gee, thanks, Lark. Now I feel like shit.”

“Look, we don’t blame you for wanting to stay in the city as soon as you were old enough,” Dove said. “You were never the same after that letter to Aidan.”

“You mean the day my life became a living hell when my very personal thoughts were passed around like a copy of Reader’s Digest? Yeah, not one of my fondest memories,” Robin said, catching Dove and Lark exchanging a look across the kitchen. “What?”

---