IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN BEN GOT UP THE NEXT MORNING. HE DRESSED quietly and headed down the stairs to make coffee. When it finished brewing, he filled his thermos, but left enough in the pot for Macey to have a cup. An hour later when she found it, she smiled. Ben knew she wouldn’t make a full pot just for herself, and his kind gesture provided just enough caffeine to get her day started. She warmed it up in the microwave and then headed back upstairs to shower.
Ben was usually off on Saturdays, but the Jackson house was taking up all his time, and she missed him. After she showered, she stood in front of her bureau in her underwear and pulled out her favorite T-shirt. The heather-gray V-neck had a picture of Tybee Island’s famous lighthouse on the left chest and, on the back, “From Rabun Gap to Tybee Light”—referencing the diverse geography of Georgia—from a steep mountain pass in the state’s northernmost tip to the historic island lighthouse. Even though it was a tourist shirt, it had fit her perfectly—soft and not too tight. The instant she saw it in Tybee Tees she’d had to have it, but lately she’d been wearing it so much it had started to look a little tattered. Maybe she’d see one today if she could convince Maeve to go into some of the souvenir shops.
She sat on the bed, pulled on her jeans, now too loose—she hadn’t had much of an appetite since her doctor’s visit—and slid her phone into her pocket. She hurried downstairs, slung an oversize canvas bag over her shoulder, slipped into her flip-flops, grabbed her keys, and glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy, but at least she’d stopped crying.
Twenty minutes later, Macey turned into the historic section of downtown Savannah, skirted Ellis Square—one of the twenty-four squares originally laid out by James Oglethorpe, founder of the colony of Georgia and designer of the city of Savannah—pulled onto Barnard Street, and got lucky with a spot right in front of Goose Feathers Cafe, her sister’s favorite breakfast spot. She looked over and saw Maeve standing out front and waved.
“Sorry I’m late,” Macey called.
“No worries. . . . I just got here,” Maeve said, giving her a hug. She stepped back and searched her eyes. “How’re you doing?”
“Okay,” Macey said, mustering a brave smile.
“Yeah?”
Macey nodded. “Want to go in?” she said, blinking back tears.
“Mmm, I’m starving,” Maeve said, “and I desperately need some coffee,” she added with a grin.
As they turned to the door, an older gentleman came out and held it open for them. “You two must be twins,” he commented with a smile.
“Sisters but not twins. Believe it or not, there’re two years between us,” Macey said.
Macey and Maeve were used to being mistaken for twins—they’d been cut from the same cloth, and it hadn’t helped that when they were younger their mom had dressed them in identical outfits. By the time they were in high school, though, their true colors had started to shine through. Macey was taller and wilder while Maeve was petite and quiet. She was also a better ball handler, and when she made the varsity basketball team as a freshman, the Lindstrom sisters—Maeve at point and Macey at center—became an indomitable force dreaded by opposing teams.
“What’re you having?” Macey asked, looking up at the menu. “Let me guess,” she teased, knowing her sister’s favorite dish. “The Bird’s Nest.”
“How’d you know?” Maeve said, laughing. The Bird’s Nest—grits with homemade salsa, two poached eggs, a pinch of cilantro, and a ring of shredded cheddar—was the signature dish at Goose Feathers, and Maeve’s favorite.
They stepped up to the counter, and Maeve ordered while her sister tried to make up her mind. Macey shook her head indecisively. “I’ll just have a coffee and . . . a chocolate croissant,” she finally said with a smile, pushing her little sister’s wallet away.
They took their coffee outside and sat at one of the tables to wait for their food.
“Have you talked to Mom?” Maeve asked.
Macey nodded. “I stopped by yesterday. She and Dad were working in the garden. They’re pruning everything back already.” She smiled. “Dad just stands behind her with his pruning shears and rolls his eyes.”
Maeve chuckled. “She’s just like you—hardheaded and demanding.”
Macey laughed—she knew her sister was right. Their mom was the most determined woman they knew. She was also the reason her daughters had such competitive spirits.
Ruth O’Leary had married Hal Lindstrom right out of college. She’d been twenty-two years old, and Handsome Hal—as she always called him—a shy farmer’s son, had been twenty-five. Through the years, Hal always said it was Ruth’s auburn hair and green Irish eyes that stole his heart, but Macey and Maeve both knew just by the way she looked at him that their mom was equally smitten.
Macey nodded. “So, how’s Gage?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling. The newest guy on Ben’s crew, Gage Tennyson, had been dating Maeve for almost a year.
“He’s fine,” Maeve replied with a half smile.
“Just fine? Have you been doing anything fun?”
“Not really—Ben works him too hard. He comes over, has one beer, and falls asleep on my couch.” She stirred a little of her grits into her eggs and scooped it up with her spoon. “When are they going to finish this job anyway?”
“Hopefully by Thanksgiving,” Macey said, sipping her coffee.
“I’ll be thankful for that,” Maeve said. She eyed her sister’s croissant. “You need to eat,” she said nodding to her plate. “You’re too skinny.”
“I am eating,” Macey said, cutting off a corner of the chocolate-oozing pastry with her fork. “I don’t have much appetite.”
Maeve nodded thoughtfully. “Hey, did you get my message about Mr. Olivetti?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“I did,” Macey said. “But I’m not adopting.”
“I didn’t say anything about adopting.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Oh, I guess I did,” Maeve said with a sigh, regretting how this conversation—which she’d hoped would be upbeat and low-pressure—had started. “Well, Mr. Olivetti and his brother were wards of the state during the Depression because their parents had too many kids and couldn’t afford to keep them all.”
“I wish that was my problem,” Macey said.
Maeve frowned. “Anyway, they were in an orphanage for two years before they were adopted by a young couple who couldn’t have kids. And that couple raised them to be wonderful, successful men. Their adoptive father was a woodworker, and he taught them the trade—that’s how they came to have their own furniture company. They also went on to have families of their own, making their adoptive parents grandparents. They ended up with eight grandkids between the two of them! What a legacy!”
Macey nodded. “Things were different back then, Maeve. We have state kids as patients, and some of them are sweet and cute, but some have real problems. Even Cora—you know, the lead case worker at DFCS—says things are different these days. There’s too much risk involved in adopting—too many kids are born to drug-addicted mothers, or have developmental issues . . . or their parents turn up years later and want them back, and then you have a huge custody battle on your hands. You just never know what you’re gonna get . . . and you could end up being very unhappy.”
“Or you could end up being very happy,” Maeve pressed.
“I know, Maeve, but we’ve been over this. I’m not interested in adopting, and you know it. Mom has been suggesting it, too, now, so I think you two must be in cahoots.”
Maeve shook her head innocently. “I haven’t said a word, but it does seem like a good option—there are so many kids who need homes. Have you even talked to Ben?” she asked, not willing to give up so easily.
Macey shook her head. “Maeve, stop. I’m pretty sure Ben feels the same way, and besides, he’s so busy he can’t think of anything but that house.”
Maeve looked stung. “I’m sorry,” she said, and when her sister didn’t reply, she glanced down at their plates and realized, except for her first bite, Macey hadn’t eaten any more. “You need to eat, Mace.”
Macey sighed and sipped her coffee. “I’m not hungry.” She pushed the plate toward her. “Want it?”
“Just a taste,” Macey said. She cut off part of the croissant, transferred it to her plate, and took a bite. “Oh my goodness—this is amazing.”
Macey laughed and slid the rest of it onto her sister’s plate. “Just take the whole thing—I’m not going to eat it.”
“Are you sure?”
Macey nodded.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
Macey pulled a list out of her pocket. “I need to run to Home Depot and see what they have for mums and pumpkins, and I’d like to stop at a couple of souvenir shops and see if I can find another shirt like this,” she said, gesturing to her shirt.
“You need a new Tybee Island T-shirt?” Maeve asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I do,” Macey said. “I like this shirt.”
Maeve laughed. “Whatever it takes to make you happy.”
“I’m afraid it’s gonna take a lot more than that.”