Chapter 5

The next afternoon, Graham texted me.

I’m back. We need to talk.

He asked me to meet him at the house. I was ready to refuse until he said he still had my road atlas.

The living room looked exactly as it had when I left.

Graham stood beside the dining table with the atlas in front of him.

He glanced at the half-empty shoe rack and opened his mouth, but whatever he meant to say never came out.

Instead, he pushed the atlas toward me.

“The trip was a mistake,” he said. “I needed to find out whether my feelings for Celeste were really over.”

“Are they?”

“Mara, this isn’t as simple as you think.”

I opened the atlas to page 214.

My blue route was still there. A new coffee stain marked the edge of the page. Beside the lighthouse, I had written: Leave by four to reach the inn before dark.

Underneath my note was a line in someone else’s handwriting.

Black ink. Slanted to the right.

Next year, we won’t need an excuse.

I turned the atlas toward Graham.

“Who wrote this?”

He looked at the words and didn’t pretend not to recognize them.

“Celeste.”

“When?”

“During the trip.”

“You said the trip was supposed to end whatever was between you. She was planning next year.”

Graham pulled out a chair and sat down.

“We’ve been talking again for eight months. At first, it was only about Leah. Then we met a few times. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Three canceled weekends. Eight months of telling people we were separated. My anniversary route.

They all belonged to the same answer.

“When were you planning to tell me?”

“After Dad’s retirement lunch.” He rubbed his forehead. “You’ve done so much for that day. I didn’t want all your work to go to waste.”

“So you planned to let me finish organizing it first.”

“I knew you wouldn’t leave something unfinished. You’ve always been responsible, Mara.”

His phone rang.

Leah’s name appeared on the screen.

Graham answered and told her I was there.

“Mara, are you really refusing to help with Grandpa’s lunch?” she asked immediately. “It’s only a week away.”

“I’ve organized all the information. Your father can take over.”

“But you’ve always handled it. Can’t you at least finish this one? Afterward, you two can do whatever you want.”

“There will always be one more thing after this one.”

Her breathing grew louder over the phone.

“You know how important this is to Grandpa.”

“I also know that before you went to the cape, none of you thought I deserved the truth.”

“You’re not my mother,” Leah snapped. “You don’t get to ruin our chance to be a complete family again.”

I didn’t answer her.

I forwarded every file for the retirement lunch to Graham. Then I left the Holt family group chat and closed the atlas.

Graham stared at the planning documents on his phone—documents he had never bothered to read.

“Without you,” he said, “how am I supposed to finish all this in a week?”

“You have the files. You have a family. Ask them.”

I picked up the atlas and reached the front door before Graham’s phone rang.

Walter’s name appeared on the screen.

Graham answered on speaker, as if he still expected me to take over the moment his father needed something.

“The restaurant says three people have sent three different guest lists,” Walter said. “Your aunt says Mara resigned from the lunch. You say she is still coming. Which one is true?”

Graham looked at me. “Dad, this isn’t the time.”

“Then I’ll ask Mara.”

Walter’s voice changed.

“Graham told me you agreed to a six-month separation. He also said you approved the Cape Alder trip and planned to finish the retirement lunch before moving out.”

Graham reached for the phone.

I stepped away from him.

“None of that is true,” I said.

Silence filled the living room.

Then Walter asked, “Will you come to the restaurant tomorrow at four? Not to fix the lunch. I want Graham to tell the same story while you’re both in the room.”

Graham shook his head at me.

I looked down at Celeste’s sentence in my atlas.

Next year, we won’t need an excuse.

“I’ll be there,” I said.