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“That looks great, Mrs. Calder,” Minnie said when Rose finally zipped up the last dress. “You look like a movie star.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Rose said, laughing. She knew she didn’t look anything like a movie star. She looked like a decently pretty woman in her forties, her face filled with laugh lines, her dark hair streaked with white curls. “But it’ll have to do for now,” she said.

Maxine followed Rose downstairs, where Rose drank a glass of water and checked the time. There was a nervous energy about Maxine, as though Maxine were suddenly the adult, sending Rose out on a first date. And it was true that Rose had never gone out with anyone, not since her divorce.

“Get home before midnight,” Maxine teased as Rose zipped up her coat. “And if he isn’t a gentleman, call me, and I’ll come pick you up.”

Rose giggled and wrapped her arms around her daughter. Although Maxine was the one preparing to leave next, Rose knew they were both apt to change rapidly in a couple of years. Their cozy, two-person reality was coming to an end. More love was never a bad thing. But it could be overwhelming, she knew.

At the table that evening, as Rose and Rhett gazed into one another’s eyes, Rose felt all her fears and doubts evaporate. After a long silence, she tilted her head and said, “I hate that it took us this long to get back to one another.”

And Rhett replied, “We took the time we needed to grow up, I think.”

Rose reached across the tablecloth, past the salted French butter and the sliced baguette, and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I broke up with you. But I should tell you. I only did it because I thought you were going to break up with me first.”

Rhett cackled, his eyes glinting with the candlelight. “It was for the best. Everything that happened was for the best.”

They had to believe that.

By Thanksgiving two weeks later, Rose and Rhett had fallen so deeply in love that it felt bizarre that they lived together only half the time, when Maxine was with her father. On Thanksgiving morning, as a blustery wind whipped against the house and more snow fell, Rose kept tabs out the window, praying Rhett would come soon and bring the warmth and energy the chilly morning needed. Maxine was helping Rose with dinner prep, and there was a pie in each of Rose’s ovens: the top one and the bottom one. She’d made two pumpkins that morning, but an apple and a pecan were on their way.

To Rose’s surprise, when she’d suggested that Mike and his new fiancé swing by for dinner, they’d said yes. “We want to spend the holiday with Maxine,” Clara, the fiancé, had explained over the phone. Apparently, Clara and Maxine were getting closer. Rose wanted to celebrate that.

Rhett arrived by ten, carrying two bottles of wine and wiping snow from his beard. Willow got there a few minutes later, guiding her mother Donna’s ex-husband along. His name was Ralph, and he was here to visit Willow’s new life because he’d apparently been very worried about her when she decided not to come back to Boston. From the sounds of things, Ralph had been instrumental in raising Willow into the wonderful woman she was.

Rose greeted everyone with a hug and told them to make themselves comfortable. “There’s coffee and cinnamon rolls,” she said. “The eating starts now!”

With Willow, Ralph, Mike, Clara, and Maxine in the living room, eating cinnamon rolls and watching the parade, Rhett and Rose snuck a few kisses in the kitchen. Rose’s heart swelled with longing. “Last year,” she said to Rhett, “It was just Maxine and me here, eating turkey and watching bad movies. It’s hard to believe so much has changed.”

Rhett tucked a curl behind her ear. “Thank you for letting me be a part of that change.”

“Rose!” Willow called then, drawing Rose to the living room. Willow stood, pointing at the television screen, where the parade had cut to a brief sports-journalism segment. Two sports journalists sat around a half-moon table, discussing local sports. Just now, they were talking about high school athletes making a run for nationals. It was light, fluffy stuff—something you might have ignored if you didn’t know anything about the teams.

But one of the journalists, Rose realized now, was Harry Orlett. The only difference was, Harry was no longer called Harry Orlett. It seemed that he’d changed his name to Andy Munroe.

Rose put her hand over her mouth, listening as the journalist who’d once been Harry outlined the seasonal injuries of two of the high school athletes. There was a dullness in his eyes.

“Wait. I remember that guy,” Rhett said from beside her, narrowing his eyes. “He was in the dark room, making photographs. Here in Nantucket.”

But it seemed that Harry Orlett wasn’t available to haunt them any longer. Whatever strings the Legacy Club had pulled had destroyed his reputation as Harry Orlett. Miraculously, he’d found another role, one that highlighted how charismatic he could be. But his topic at hand was teenage sports, which meant that there was very little damage he could do. Rose smiled and returned to the kitchen, finally satisfied with what the Legacy Club had achieved.

Later, over dinner, Rose got up the nerve to ask Ralph what Willow had been like as a little girl. Willow blushed and sipped her wine.

“I don’t want to get into any trouble,” Ralph said.

“Come on. Give us a few details,” Rose pleaded.

Ralph smiled and tapped his lips with his napkin. “My ex-wife Donna was absolutely smitten with Willow. Willow could do no wrong in her eyes, you can imagine. So one day, I went over to their place to help fix up a few things. I think I’d said I would trim some trees and paint the back porch, and I’d been putting it off so long that I finally had to do it. Anyway, there was a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies on the table. I remember that they smelled wonderful, but I couldn't eat them. I was on medication that made me nauseated at the time. So, I worked, sweating like a dog, waiting for the paint to dry, and so on. And then, Donna storms out onto the porch and tells me I really have ‘some nerve.’ I didn’t know what she meant. When I asked for clarification, she told me that those cookies she’d baked were for Willow’s school fundraiser. She said, ‘You ate half the cookies! I have to make more!’ I obviously knew what had happened, but I didn’t want to get poor Willow in trouble. I saw her coming up behind Donna with chocolate smeared on her chin. I caught her eye and wiped my chin, telling her to wipe hers. She did, looking mortified. How old would you have been, Willow?”

Willow gasped with laughter. “Maybe six or seven?”

“That sounds about right,” Ralph said. “I couldn’t believe it. There I was, a grown man, lying for a little girl.”

Willow cackled. “I had a terrible stomachache. I think Mom might have suspected something that night, when I was so sick. Oh, but it was worth it.”

“You’re totally Rose’s biological daughter,” Mike said, raising his wineglass.

Rose cackled. “What are you talking about?”