Page 105 of Here & Now

Twenty-three

Bree had felt giddy and lighthearted when she’d said goodbye to Zane that morning, but the second she’d gone into her grandparents’ house, she’d deflated. She’d spent the last bunch of days sorting and boxing their belongings, but she hadn’t taken the final step: getting rid of them.

She’d been distracted by Zane, but there was more to it than that. She simply wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

She procrastinated a while longer, showering, dressing, and eating breakfast, until she couldn’t delay it any longer. It took several trips to lug the boxes to the car, and soon it was full. She was taking the gently used items to a local thrift shop that she’d contacted earlier in the week. The remaining boxes contained sentimental items that she was keeping and taking back home.

Home. When she was younger, home had been wherever her family was. The actual structure hadn’t really mattered. Now home meant so much more. It was where she felt safe and loved, where she wanted to lay her head down at night and wake up each morning. With sudden clarity, she realized that the cottage felt like home to her even though she was alone.

No, that can’t be. Her head spun at the thought of it. Could she really do it—uproot her life and move here permanently? What about work, and more importantly, her family? Could she really leave it all behind?

She shook her head to clear her crazy thoughts, but as she was driving to the thrift shop, they resurfaced.

You won’t be leaving your family, just relocating. They could come and visit whenever they liked and stay as long as they wanted. As soon as Ivy was feeling up to traveling, she could bring Sofie for a visit. Even though Sofie hadn’t known her great-grandparents, they were a part of her, and where better to feel their presence than here on Sanibel?

You can do your job anywhere. That was one of the things Bree loved about writing. She could do it on a plane or a train, in a car or a bar. Wait a minute. Am I channeling Dr. Seuss? The point was: have laptop, will travel. If Shannon wouldn’t keep her on, she could always get a job writing for a local newspaper or magazine. The end goal was to work for herself, though she wasn’t financially secure enough to do that yet. Still, the possibilities were endless.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the thrift shop, she decided to table the idea for now. She exited the car, took out a few of the lightest boxes, and carried them to the door.

Thankfully, a store employee saw her coming and opened the door for her. Bree glanced at her nametag and said, “Thanks, Millie.”

“Looks like you have your hands full,” Millie said.

“I have a lot more boxes in the car.”

“You can set those down right here, and I’ll get someone to help you.”

Once all the boxes were inside, Millie said to Bree, “I was very sorry to hear about your grandma.”

“You knew her?” At this point, Bree shouldn’t have been surprised, as many of the locals knew each other.

“Oh yes. She came in every so often, mostly to look for kitchen items.”

Bree laughed. “So that’s how she accumulated so many! You might recognize some things in these boxes.”

Millie smiled. “Someone else will be able to use them.”

Bree knew her grandma would approve. She hated to see anything go to waste.

“Will you be selling her house?” Millie asked.

This was the first time Bree hesitated to answer. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, if you do, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of offers.”

She drove away feeling a mix of emotions. It had been difficult to part with her grandparents’ things, but she also felt lighter somehow. Besides, if she decided to stay, she’d want to make the house her own. She wouldn’t do anything drastic, but she would make some cosmetic changes and incorporate her own style.

She was still mulling it over when she pulled into her driveway and saw a strange car parked there. A woman, presumably the owner of the car, was standing outside, taking pictures of the front of the cottage.

Bree hurriedly got out of the car and approached her. “Excuse me, but what are you doing?”

The woman seemed unaffected, as if it were normal to take pictures of a stranger’s house. “Hello. Are you the owner?”

A few weeks ago, Bree would have said no, but now she said, “Yes. How can I help you?”

“My name is Justine, and I work for a local real estate agency.” The woman took a business card out of the front pocket of her purse and held it out.

Bree didn’t even glance at it. “I didn’t call an agent.”