Page 87 of The Endowment Effect

Friends?

This wasn’t about…backgrounds, this was about character.

“Of course not,” Birdie said defensively, as she watched Bernadette drop the sheet into the basket and make her way farther down the row of clothing. “I just never pegged you as the gossipy type.”

“One learns to pay attention when in need of information about the people they love who have left town without a word.

Birdie laid the folded towel on the pile of clothes already folded in the basket. “You know those women despise me?”

“What women?”

Birdie was starting to get frustrated. She yanked on a dish cloth and the clothespin fell to the ground.

“Those women. You know, the Pinkie Posse.”

“They don’t despise you; they despise the perception they have of you, fueled by their children.”

“Same difference. They chose to see who they wanted to see.”

“They also saw the version of you that you chose to show them.”

Okay, there was merit in that statement.

“Grant hates me,” she pouted, making another fold.

“Oh now, stop that. Grant doesn’t hate you.”

“He all but said so, no more than an hour ago.”

“He’s angry with you and confused about the past. He’s also very protective of Lucas.”

She wanted to add that he accused her of being a criminal but decided to keep that hurtful accusation to herself.

“Like Lucas needs protecting,” Birdie scoffed. Besides, protecting Lucas had always been her job. Until it wasn’t. “I’m more worried about Mia. She seems so lost since Marshall died.”

Bernadette removed the wooden pins on each side of a pillowcase and said, “Ef oonah en kno whe oonah gwine, den oonah shu kno whe oonah cumfum.”

“Gullah Geechee?” Birdie asked, recognizing the lovely lilt of the woman’s voice, even though she was unable to translate the words. “What’s it mean?”

Bernadette held the pillowcase to her chest as she gave Birdie a thoughtful look. “If you don’t know where you’re going, then you should start by knowing where you came from.”

Her voice was so kind and her expression so full of love, for a moment, Birdie wasn’t sure if the wise woman was referring to Mia, or to her.

“Hey, Mom.” Mia came loping around the corner. “Luke said I could take a break and that we should check out the ocean. He said the there’s a small beach just straight back this way.” She pointed toward the tall sea oats, leaning back and forth with the trajectory of the wind, at the back of Bernadette’s property line. “But he said I can’t go by myself.” She rolled her eyes dramatically with a smile and without an inkling of real annoyance.

Birdie was wearing heels and a skirt, but there was no way she was going to forego a chance to insert herself into Mia’s Wayward experience. The ocean was just as much hers to share as it was Lucas’s, and she was going to seize the opportunity to be the first to show it to their daughter.

Show her something about where she was from.

It wasn’t as exotic as Galicia, a place somewhere in Spain, but it was part of her and Mia’s past. A place in the recent past where they both had come from.

“Sure,” she said, toeing off her shoes. “Just let me grab a couple towels.”

“I’ll get them for you,” Bernadette said with the straw basket on her hip.

A few minutes later, Birdie and Mia made their way through the dunes, barefoot and with Birdie’s skirt hiked up to allow for a longer stride. How she used to love watching the tall grasses wave back and forth as if a sultry welcome or forlorn goodbye.

“You know, he’s single,” Mia said out of nowhere.

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