Page 5 of The Summer I Stayed
“You’re going to Savannah, not Mars. If you need something, you can always buy it there, or I can have it shipped to you.”
There’s a pause before she answers softly, “Yeah, I guess so.”
I can hear the nerves in her voice and wish I could be there to hug her, tell her everything is going to be okay. Ali is normally a carefree, happy-go-lucky type of girl. But even the ones who seem like they have no worries get nervous, too.
“Hey,” I say gently, “you’re going to do great in college, sweetie. Don’t let packing stress you out too much.”
“You really think so?” she asks quietly.
“I know so,” I reply as she smiles softly at me.
“Oh!” Alison jumps in excitement. “You still have your blog, right?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of my old blog, Cozy Charm by Maggie. It was my creative outlet, showing others home decor and organization tips, until my whole world changed when the love of my life was no longer here.
I almost mentioned the many decluttering posts I have to Alison but I didn’t want to bring it up. Yet, here we are.
Alison continues. “You can take them along and start documenting the renovation. And you can start withtoday. Everyone loves a good renovation story, especially if it involves wildlife.”
She’s right. Today’sadventureis an entertaining story to tell. But could I really start blogging again? Of course, it’s crossed my mind over the years, and I do miss it, but it’s been years since I last touched it. Are blogs even relevant anymore?
“And since when have you become an expert on what makes a good blog?” I tease, trying to keep my voice light in contrast to the heaviness I feel.
“Well,Mom,” she says, exaggerating my title. “In case you’ve forgotten, we are the digital generation. Besides, people love real stories. And it’s not like you don’t have a fan base. I bet they’d love to hear from you again.”
I know she’s right. My old readers often left comments asking when I’d return. They missed my posts and declared their feeds weren’t the same without my cozy home tips and inspiration collages. But every time I even thought about sharing something, all I could think of was Steven.
But this…this project might be different. It’s not just about creating a cozy corner or organizing a pantry. It’s about rebuilding something that’s been broken.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally say, earning a triumphant grin from her.
The day’s events have worn me out entirely, and I can feel the aches settling in. Once we finish our conversation, I jot down today’s events in my notes app. If I decide to start again, then at least I’ll have something to go off of.
Chapter Four
Maggie
I was hoping to avoid town for a bit and just throw myself into the renovations, but since I have to wait for Randy to get the raccoons out and then wait for cleaners to come and sanitize, I find myself standing in the center of Blue Alder Cove. I remember the first time Steven and I came here together and how much I fell in love with the small-town charm. We were awestruck by its beauty, the tranquility of the lake, and the warmth of the people. The charming shops line the street with the lake off in the distance between them. It was like a picture-perfect postcard scene. It still is.
With a sigh, I start strolling down the main street, my white tennis shoes pattering on the cobblestones. Everything is so quaint and familiar, from the flower baskets hanging from lampposts to the pastel facades of the shops.
I have a full day of nothing ahead of me as I wait impatiently to get started on fixing this house. I don’tknow what I’m going to do once it is fixed. I’m just taking this day by day, task by task, hoping along the way I’ll figure out answers to the many questions I have floating in my head.
The bell rings as I enter Driftwood Diner, and a welcoming aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my soul. Is there anything a cup of joe can’t solve? I don’t think so. The diner is busy for a late midweek morning, filled with locals chatting over stacks of pancakes and bacon. It’s etched with memories of Steven, but it’s comforting. We loved being in Blue Alder Cove, and they’re sweet memories of him that I cherish.
“Maggie Wilkes, is that you?”
Standing behind the counter is Edna, her silver curls peeking out of her floral hair wrap. She wipes her hands on her apron before rushing over and enveloping me in a hug.
“Edna,” I smile, pulling away to look at her, “it’s so good to see you.”
“And you, dear. I was sad to hear I missed you, not once but twice, yesterday. And I heard about the raccoons.”
Of course she has. “That’s small towns for you.” I smile wryly.
Edna chuckles heartily. “Ah, well, there’s never a dull moment around here.”
She leads me over to a booth by the window, the teal upholstery fading. She pours coffee in a mug and then slides a menu across the table. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
