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“As do our futures,” Willow said. “Nathaniel needs to be mayor. He’s the best candidate. I think he could do a world of good. I’ve thought it since he announced his campaign.”

Rose’s heart swelled. It was remarkable that she sat here with her daughter, speaking about a man neither of them could ever see again, a man who could never know about Willow.

“He’s deeply flawed,” Rose said, raising her glass. “But he would have loved you to pieces, Willow. He would have thought you were extraordinary because you are.”

19

It wasn’t clear to Willow and Rose whether they were meant to spend the night in the illustrious mansion, with its crackling fireplace, ancient tomes, bottles of decadent wine, and cabinets of snacks. “Obviously, they wanted us to have a cozy night in together,” Rose said, raising her arms over her head, her lips tinged red from wine. “But I can’t help but think we’ll be cozier at my place. What do you think?”

Willow’s heart leaped at the thought. The last thing she wanted was to roam the alien halls of this enormous mansion. She wanted to sit under a scratchy blanket and talk in the dark with her mother. She wanted to learn as much as she could about this woman. And she wanted them to do it on their own terms, rather than the Legacy Club's.

Rather than leave the nice wine and snacks, of course, they carried them in their arms and threw them in the back of Rose’s car. Willow sat in the passenger seat, buckled herself in, and laughed to herself. If she wasn’t mistaken, snow had begun to mix with the rain outside. Rose turned on the heater and spun the car around, driving them back toward the house she said she’d bought with the funds she’d earned as a baker. Willow had tasted one of the brownies on the platter and been floored by Rose’s sweet artistry. “There’s more where that came from!” Rose had said, as though she wanted Willow to stick around.

Rose’s house, which she shared with her daughter Maxine, was adorable: two stories with an enormous porch and porch swing out front. “It isn’t much,” Rose explained as they entered, her eyes on the staircase, where light glowed from above.

“It’s perfect,” Willow said. She had no desire to go back to the bed-and-breakfast tonight, least of all because Harry knew where she was staying. She wanted to hide out here.

“Is that your daughter upstairs?” Willow asked.

“No. She’s still with her dad,” Rose said gently.

And then, at the top of the stairs, a dark-haired man with a beard appeared, smiling down at them. Willow recognized him immediately as the person who’d taken her photograph at the harbor. Immediately, it clicked: Rhett had recognized Willow as Rose’s lookalike. Had he known she had another daughter?

“Evening,” Rhett said. “I hope it’s okay I’m still here? There was a bit of flooding on my boat, and…”

Willow thought he knew now.

“I told you already. Stay as long as you like,” Rose said. “Did you help yourself to some food?”

“I ordered in,” Rhett said. “Thai food. It was great.”

Willow hung back, arms crossed, watching Rose and Rhett speak to one another, Rose at the base of the stairs and Rhett at the top. It was as though they were dancing around topics they couldn’t say aloud. It was clear as anything that they’d once been in love.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Rhett said then, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good night.”

Rose cast Willow a funny smile, then led her into the living room, where they poured some wine and sat beneath two scratchy blankets, ones beyond Willow’s wildest dreams. It reminded her of sitting with her adopted mother, Donna, years ago, long before the diagnosis, when Donna had liked to do Willow’s hair and hear about her days. Willow’s heart heaved. She told herself she wasn’t abandoning her mother for Rose. She told herself more love, not less, was always better. And Donna was gone.

That first night together, Willow and Rose talked for as long as they could, before they turned on the television and watched their first film together: When Harry Met Sally. Willow had seen it countless times with her mother Donna, but there was something enormously healing about watching it with Rose. At the end, when they looked at one another, bug-eyed and teary, they burst into laughter.

“We have the same taste,” Rose said, wiping her cheeks.

“It’s a good start, at least,” Willow agreed, laughing.

That night, Rose made up the bed in her own bedroom and insisted that Willow take it for herself. “Rhett’s in Maxine’s room,” she explained. “Otherwise, I’d give you that.”

“I should go back to the bed and breakfast,” Willow said, furrowing her brow. “I didn’t mean to make things complicated for you.”

Rose laughed, then bit her lip.

“I know,” Willow said, laughing too. “I made things complicated a long time ago.”

“You didn’t complicate anything,” Rose insisted. “But I want you here. I want you to spend the night.”

Rather than fight, Willow tucked herself into her biological mother’s bed, then watched Rose move through the room and snap off the light. Within seconds, Willow closed her eyes and blocked out the world.

For Willow, the following few days were a blur of love and confusion. She spent time with Rose at the bakery; she helped Rhett clean his sailboat, sweeping, scrubbing, and organizing cabinets; and she ate dinner with Rose and watched films with Rose, as October darkened and the island prepared itself for November.

Sometimes during the week, Willow went back to the bed-and-breakfast to fetch clothes. Always, her eyes scanned the streets, searching for some sign of Harry Orlett. The third time she went back to the bed-and-breakfast, the owner handed her a letter from Harry himself that said “I’m still waiting for your call. Remember: this is life-changing money. Maybe you and Rose can take the money and do something good with it. Maybe you can start a charity fund. Maybe you can start a string of Rose’s bakeries. And remember you can still go back into music performance. Think of the bigger picture.”