Page 156 of Here & There

It’s a beautiful sunny morning, though it’s cold enough that we’re bundled in warm coats and gloves for the ride. The fiberglass speedboat appropriately calledSunny Daysrocks gently as Mom takes a seat, shading her eyes.

Mac surprised me with the boat at Christmas. When I protested such a large gift—boats are approximately the cost of a newborn child—Mac said it was payment for services rendered last summer. He reminded me I tripled profits at the Dinghy, just like I said I would. “Annie went in on it too,” he told me. “She made an obscene amount of money on the sale of her brownstone.”

I think Annie was still trying to assuage the guilt she felt about everything that had happened, but neither she nor her brother would accept a dime from me.

The name came with the vessel, and it’s apparently bad luck to change it. Which is fine. I loveSunny Days. Though I also would have loved something with a little more pizazz. I suggestedNauti Buoy,which earned me a scowl from Mac, though I could see him trying not to laugh when I threw it on the list.

“Technically, she’s Shelby’s,” Mac clarifies now.

I wanted to share the boat, but Mac insistedSunny Daysbe in my name only and under my care so I wouldn’t feel any obligation to consult him with decisions about where or when I travel. I have to admit, cutting my biweekly trip time in more than half has been a huge bonus. Plus it’s so much more fun flying across the waves than being stuck in traffic. Moorage is expensive, but I’m making more money now than I ever did before.

Mac turns on the engine. “Luckily Shelby lets me drive it sometimes.”

I kiss Mac on the cheek as I slide into the seat next to Mom behind him. “Sometimes.”

He sneaks a butterfly-inducing wink over his shoulder as Mom gets settled.

“Ugh, gross, Dad,” Nate says from the passenger seat.

I laugh. Not so sneaky. But I can practically see Mac’s heart burst through his life vest. Nate’s only recently started trying on “Dad.” The first time he said it, Mac nodded, acting like it was no big deal. A few minutes later, he asked me to come with him upstairs to check on something. The minute we were out of sight of Nate, he started crying like a baby.

“Ready?” I ask Mom. She looks hilarious with that giant life vest on over her fancy wool coat and designer jeans, but she also kind of rocks it too.

Her divorce from Dad was finalized this week, which is part of the reason Mom’s coming up to Redbeard Cove for the weekend. “It feels like the best place to celebrate,” she said.

Dad sent me an email shortly after he and Mom separated. He said he was sorry things had turned out this way, and he said he hoped we could remain in contact. It felt weird and impersonal, a bit like we were ending a business relationship. But it was very him. An absolute zero in the family skills department, thanks to missing out on pretty much every aspect of child-rearing. I told him we could maybe have dinner later in the year. It was something. We’ve had one, and it was as awkward as I expected it would be, but I’m willing to try again.

Mom, meanwhile, is making up for lost time. We talk every few days on the phone, and in person when I’m in town, which right now is every other week for a few days at a time. That’s the latest arrangement Deanie and I have worked out—a hybrid schedule where I take clients who don’t need as much in-person work, along with a few up the coast, which we’re getting more and more of. It’s looking like I might start to specialize in coastal tourism and hospitality projects as we take on more of these. We’re keeping things open and flexible, and we have already changed the schedule a few times. I’m extremely fortunate I have the options I do. Plus Mac joins me for most of my trips down to the city, which makes the work trips feel like mini breaks. He spends his time trying new restaurants and specialty food shops. When Nate comes, the two of them explore the city in the few hours I spend at the office before joining them. It’s truly the best of all worlds. Nate even met up with Mark and his mom there one weekend. They’re friends now, which is astonishing to me—but not really, either. It took a while for them to warm up to each other—especially on Nate’s part. Mark made some mistakes, and Nate still had to fight his way out of his shell. But it helped that Nate joined the rugby team. He’s shockingly good at the game,and never would have known that if Mac hadn’t gently nudged him that way.

“I’m ready,” Mom says now, looking slightly nervous as Mac revs the engine and pulls us out of the marina.

“You really drive this thing yourself, Shelby?” Mom asks.

I told her she could call me Bryony or Shelby, but she’s landed on Shelby. “It makes me feel closer to you,” she admitted.

“The only reason I’m sitting back here is to hang out with you,” I tell her.

I can’t see her hands since they’re clad in trim leather gloves, but I’m pretty sure her knuckles are white as she grips the bowline. Just wait until he gets us up to speed.

A few minutes later, she’s gritting her teeth, her eyes wide as her hair whips around her head. But I grip her hand, and soon enough, she’s relaxing, even shrieking a laugh as we hop a little wave.

The ride is as beautiful as always, and since I’m not driving for once, I get to enjoy the scenery even more. Nate and I point out sea life to Mom as we pass—not only seals, sea lions, and eagles, but at one point, the telltale blowhole sprays from a pod of orcas far out in the channel.

At home, I get Mom settled in the spare room. “This is very cute,” she says.

“It used to be mine.”

She looks like a little girl in a new bedroom.

“You can decorate it,” I say impulsively. “It can be your room anytime you want to visit.”

Annie has an apartment in town now, within walking distance of the care home. We see her every time we see Angus. She’s over there more than Mac these days.

Mom nods, her expression a little watery.

I give her a hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me, sweetheart.”

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