Harper rose to collect the dishes from the table and carry them to the sink. “How can we help?”

Dora returned a grateful look. “Just asking him about it, bringing the school up in conversation, reminding him how many days till school begins. That kind of thing. We just have to get him used to the idea so it’s not a sudden shock. He’ll have a tour of the school at the end of the week. I’m hoping Cal will join us for that.”

“Cal supports your decision?” Carson opened a drawer to grab a towel. “That’s a switch.”

“You know Cal. He’s got to feel in control.”

“What does control mean in this scenario?”

“He put up a fuss initially about the cost of tuition.” Dora handed Carson a wet dish. “It’s high. There’s no sugarcoating that. But when I told him that I was getting a job to pay for half the tuition, he quieted down. Now he can tell everyone how he’s such a good father, putting his son through private school.” Dora made a face. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“Just honest,” Carson quipped. “Are you looking to buy or rent?”

“Lord, I can’t afford to buy a birdhouse until my divorce is settled and the house in Summerville sells. It’s all kind of scary, but also exciting.” Dora laughed shortly. “I’m thirty-eight, and for the first time in my life I’m getting my own place.” Dora pulled the plug in the sink and, turning, grabbed the towel from Carson.

Harper saw a new confidence in Dora’s face. “You sound happy.”

Dora snorted and dried her hands briskly. “I think that’s hysteria you’re seeing.” Her arm dropped and the towel hung limp from her hands. “It’s not a happy thing to go through a divorce. Ten years of marriage . . .” She snapped her fingers. “Over. There’s a world of hurt mixed up in all of this. But,” she said with an optimistic tone, “it’s a new start. The end of a long period of unhappiness.”

“I’m proud of you, Sis,” Carson said.

“I’ve a lot to do in a hurry. Seems to be my mantra lately. At least I can carpool to the school from here without trouble till I find a place.” Dora looked around the room. “Thank God for Mamaw and Sea Breeze. It’s been all of our saving grace. But the sale of this house is imminent. We all have to face the fact we’ve got to move.”

There followed a long silence.

Dora tossed the towel on the counter and turned to Harper. “What about you? Where are you headed at summer’s end?”

“Don’t know yet,” Harper answered evasively, leaning back against the counter. Inside, her thoughts were roiling. She’d been searching the Internet for possible editorial positions, writing, all the while keeping physically busy in the garden. Nothing she could report. Certainly nothing as life changing as Carson’s baby or Dora’s moving forward in her life, full steam ahead. “Still figuring things out.”

“Everything okay?”

“Everything is copacetic.” Harper forced a noncommittal grin.

Dora turned her questioning gaze to Carson.

Carson held up her hands like a shield. “It’s free rent. I’m staying here for as long as I can.”

Harper thought that sounded defeatist. “Any luck on the job front?”

“There’s not a big demand for a stills photographer in Charleston,” Carson added sarcastically. Then more seriously: “I’m knocking on everyone’s door in LA but nothing’s turned up yet. I’ve called everyone I know, and I mean everyone. It’s embarrassing. But I need to get something. I’m not kidding when I say the coffers are empty.”

“I could lend you some money,” Harper hesitantly offered. She averted her gaze. The subjects of her wealthy family and her trust fund were touchy between her and Carson.

“Thanks, Sis, but no. I don’t want to feel beholden to you. Our relationship is too important to me to risk.”

Harper could appreciate that. She glanced back at Carson with a sly smile. “How about I pay you for a job?”

Carson cocked her head. “Like what?”

Harper considered. “Like surfing. I’ve always wanted to learn. I could pay you up front for a series of lessons. How does that sound?”

“I’d love to,” Carson replied soberly. “But surfing isn’t exactly recommended for pregnant women. In case you forgot . . .” She motioned toward her belly.

“But I thought—” Dora blurted.

Carson sent Dora a level gaze. “You thought what?”

Harper heard the cold challenge and tensed, fearing the abortion argument between conservative Dora and liberal Carson would erupt again.

Harper jumped in the fray. “She thought, as I did, that you’d decided not to have the baby.”

Carson’s face was difficult to read. “I wasn’t aware that I’d decided anything.”

“Oh.” Harper picked up her mug and took a quick sip.

An awkward silence followed, a sharp contrast to the easy banter of only moments earlier.

Carson’s face changed, seeing her sisters’ confusion. “I went to talk with Lucille, the night she died.”

“You did?” Dora tilted her head to catch every word. “What did you talk about?”

“Oh, we talked about a lot of things. Mamaw, Blake, the baby . . .” Carson looked at her sisters. “You two.”

They chuckled and muttered comments about what might have been said.

Carson added, “It seems like it was just last night.”

Dora sighed in commiseration. “I know. I miss her terribly. So does Nate.” She turned to Carson, truly interested. “So what did Lucille tell you?”

“She didn’t tell me what to do. That wouldn’t be her style. It was an emotional evening. I was teary and she was consoling.” Carson shook her head in disbelief. “She was the one dying, and she was consoling me.”

“That was Lucille,” said Dora.

“Lucille told me how she used to watch me surf.” Carson picked at her nail, trying to keep her voice level. “All these years and I never knew that.”

“Sounds like something she’d do,” said Dora.

“She and Mamaw both. We talked about the waves, and how when she watched me, she could tell that I knew instinctively how to move, where to place my feet to keep balance. She told me to remember that I had good instincts. And that I had to trust them. Now more than ever.”