*Bobbie Galloway made her morning matcha the way her Japanese grandmother Mitsue had taught her, adding hot water to the teaspoon of ground green tea in her ceramic chawan and then whisking until a film of bubbles formed on the surface. The cups and her addiction to matcha—long before green lattes began appearing in trendy cafes—were pretty much all Bobbie had retained from the Japanese side of her family. Her mother Riko had been keen to embrace Canadian culture, wanting to fit into the town where she’d been transplanted as a baby during the Japanese internments in World War II.
Growing up Bobbie didn’t question this. Though she loved visiting her grandmother and listening to her stories of the past, she had not been fond of the food her grandmother prepared for special holidays. Miso soup, sushi, kamaboko. No thank you. She would take roasted turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy any day.
Bobbie thought of her grandparents more often now that she was retired. In her old life she’d be in class right now, performing live in front of the toughest audience of all. A class of seventh graders.
But now the day loomed.
She could have picked a better time than the middle of a pandemic to retire. Thankfully life was getting back to normal now, but she’d lost precious momentum during the on-again, off-again lockdowns of the past two years. Time with friends, not only here in Tangle Falls, but across the border in the neighboring town of Silverton, Washington. In normal days she could walk to Silverton, after a quick check-in with the border guards. But during the pandemic the land border to the United States had been closed to all but “essential” travel.
For Bobbie, seeing her friends had felt essential, but the authorities did not agree.
Bobbie took her tea out to the front porch intending to check for buds on her early blooming roses. Instead, her attention was snagged by an old-model Subaru parked directly across the street. The careworn vehicle sported a multi-cracked windshield, a crunched back bumper, and rust around the wheel wells. Bobbie had never seen the car before, but she could guess whose it was. The child seat in the back was a big clue.
She considered what the car’s presence might mean while she finished her tea. Then she went inside to retrieve a banana loaf from her freezer.
*
Bobbie knocked on the front door. For over thirty years Denise Hooper had lived in this house, directly across from Bobbie. She’d moved in when she was newly married, then stayed to raise her daughter after being tragically widowed in her twenties. She’d only moved out seven months ago, when her late-stage cancer had sent her to a hospice in Grand Forks.
Since her death the house had sat vacant. During the winter adjacent neighbors took turns shoveling snow off the walkways. Now that it was spring those same neighbors mowed the lawn. Bobbie had given the inside of the house a good cleaning after Denise’s death, and she’d boxed her clothing for donation. Now she tended the perennials, such as they were. Some daylilies flanking the front porch, as well as hydrangea and poppies.
The front door was opened by Hadley, as Bobbie had expected. Still uncommonly pretty, though too thin, with dark circles under her huge blue eyes. A closer look revealed not just fatigue but deep unhappiness. Which wasn’t surprising since this was her first visit home since her mother’s death.
“Hey Mrs. G.” Her smile was faint, her voice tired.
“I thought it must be you, Hadley. But I had to check. I’ve been keeping an eye on the house since your mother passed.” Hadley’s daughter, a three-year-old carbon copy of Hadley at that age, peered out from around her mother’s legs. “Hello, Madison.”
The little girl scooted back behind Hadley’s jeans-clad legs. They were the ripped and torn style, exposing almost as much skin as they covered.
Bobbie had seen both of them on her last visit to Denise at the hospice in Great Falls. After a lifetime of rebellion, Hadley had shown up for her mother in the end. She’d sat vigil for those last weeks, only leaving Denise’s bedside when other friends came to visit.
Had that time made up for all the years she’d been absent? Only Denise could answer that.
Bobbie handed over the plastic-wrapped loaf. “Welcome home, Hadley. The banana bread is frozen, but it’ll thaw quickly at room temperature. Or you could use the defrost setting of the microwave.”
Hadley thanked her and Bobbie said she was welcome. There followed several seconds of awkward silence.
“So, are you here to get the house ready to sell?” Bobbie finally asked when it was clear she wasn’t going to be invited inside.
“No. We’re staying. I’m going to get a job and next fall Madison will start at Bright Days preschool.”
“I see. Isn’t that nice.” But Bobbie couldn’t help thinking it would have been nicer a few years earlier. Denise had been so angry when Hadley dropped out of school to join country singer Luke Baron’s band—words had been uttered and lines crossed with the result that Hadley and her mother were estranged for several years.
Gradually a détente had been established. There were phone calls back and forth and Denise had gone to visit when Madison was born. But Hadley had never come back to Tangle Falls. Until now.
“When your mother was sick, she gave me a key to her house. But now you’re here…” Bobbie dug the key out of her pocket and handed it over.
“Oh. Thanks. For everything, Mrs. G.”
“Of course. If you need anything, give me a call. I’m retired now. Lots of time on my hands.”
The door was slowly closing even as the words were coming out of her mouth.
“Thanks again,” Hadley said softly, before the final click.