Page 71 of Not Another Beach Read
And at that point, it was all I could ask for.
30
HOLLY
I'd never been one for scrapbooks or photo albums. Mom wasn't exactly the type to document milestones. Half the time, she'd forgotten my school picture days entirely. The other half, she'd managed to scrape together enough cash for the cheapest package, but those photos usually disappeared into the chaotic void of whatever apartment we were living in at the time.
So the leather-bound album I was currently holding felt foreign in my hands. Heavy. Important.
"Are you sure about this?" I asked, looking up at Elyse. She was perched on the edge of my bed, freshly made with the teal comforter we'd picked out together at HomeGoods.
"The album?" She smiled. "It's just a place to keep memories, Holly. No pressure."
"No, I mean..." I gestured vaguely around my room—my room, not the guest room, not a temporary space—with its newly painted walls and the cork board already filled with photos from Jenna's bakery and selfies with my new friends from photography class. "What we talked about. The adoption.Taking me on permanently when I come with so much... baggage."
Aunt Elyse's expression softened, but before she could answer, Uncle Drew appeared in the doorway balancing three mugs of hot chocolate, Eden trotting faithfully at his heels.
"Did someone order liquid dessert?" he asked, then paused, reading the room. "Am I interrupting something profound?"
"Holly was just questioning our judgment in adopting a teenager who thinks purple hair and staying up until two a.m. are good life choices," Aunt Elyse said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn't suppress my smile. "I was not. The purple hair was clearly an excellent decision."
Uncle Drew handed me a mug topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream. "The hair? Definitely. The sleep schedule? Debatable."
Eden, sensing the opportunity for scraps, positioned herself strategically at my feet, her eyes locked on the whipped cream mountain.
"Not for dogs," I told her sternly. She responded by placing one paw dramatically on my knee. "The puppy eyes don't work on me."
"Liar," Uncle Drew coughed into his hand.
"I heard that!" I dipped my finger into the whipped cream and let Eden lick it off. "And I never claimed to be strong."
Aunt Elyse laughed, then pointed to the box I'd pulled from beneath my bed. "So what's in there? You've been guarding it like it contains nuclear launch codes."
I set down my mug and pulled the battered shoebox onto my lap. It had traveled with me from apartment to apartment, to my grandparents' house, and finally here. The cardboard was soft at the corners, held together with multiple layers of tape.
"Just some stuff I've kept. Nothing special." But my fingers trembled slightly as I removed the lid.
Inside was an odd assortment of items that probably looked like junk to anyone else. A faded pink hair ribbon. A plastic sheriff's badge. A small gray rock with a stripe of quartz running through it. A wrinkled Polaroid. A handful of movie ticket stubs.
I carefully removed the Polaroid and handed it to Aunt Elyse. "This is the only picture I have of my mom where she looks... happy. Really happy, not just faking it."
The photo showed my mother younger, healthier, with the same dark hair I'd had before the pink dye, laughing at something off-camera, her arm around a much smaller version of me eating an ice cream cone bigger than my face.
"Clearwater Beach," Aunt Elyse said softly, recognizing the backdrop. "You couldn't have been more than five or six."
"It was a good day," I said simply. "One of the good ones."
Uncle Drew sat on my other side, the bed dipping under his weight. Eden immediately abandoned her whipped cream surveillance to jump up and settle across all our laps, making us laugh.
"Eden! You are not a lapdog," Uncle Drew protested, though he made no move to push her off.
"She obviously disagrees," I said, scratching behind her ears. "Anyway, I was thinking maybe I could put that picture in the album. And maybe add some new ones too."
Aunt Elyse's eyes glistened suspiciously. "I think that would be perfect, Holly."
I reached back into the box and pulled out the plastic sheriff's badge. "And maybe this can finally be retired."
