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laugh was a gift, and her relentless zest was just like always. That’s what I missed, never seeing that again, never turning to ask her something that I just had to know. She’d know. And now, I could never do that again. The loss was unbearable after the dream, where she threw her arms wide over her head, her white curls shining in the moonlight, the wind billowing her skirt against the waves. I’d only ever see her there.
    She wanted me to go on an adventure.
    Sail on …
    I could hear it clearly, like the snapping of a sail under the moon.
    Like in a song I used to love.

5
THE DOLLHOUSE
    Julia began announcing to friends and family that I was “kidnapping Dad!” What an unpleasant surprise! I seethed, and, at once, the disappointment over the continual sniping and lack of support from the family nibbled away at me.
    I explained to anyone who would listen that it was not my plan to kidnap Dad. Where did Julia get such ideas? I wondered. I had to bite my tongue and bide my time, because I was on the verge of confronting her, and it wouldn’t be pretty. She’d called me a kidnapper. That’s a felony. All the while, Jack’s objections to “Dad running off to Florida” dwindled and reappeared with annoying regularity. The idea of him running anywhere was ridiculous enough. Dad just smiled and didn’t join the argument. He remained adamant about going. “How can I stay here? My Patsy’s not here,” he said. It was as simple as that. My heart broke.
    I didn’t try to talk him out of it, and I avoided discussion with my siblings, because there was no such thing as discussion, just yelling. I was determined not to argue with them, taking a clue from Lucy’s non-conflict approach.
    I made up my mind. Unless something earth-shakinghappened to change everything, Dad and I and the kids were all off to Florida at the end of August.
    I finally told Little Sunshine and Tick. “I have some incredible news, kids. Gampy is going on The Adventure with us! He’s coming to live in Florida! We’re going to stay at the cottage.” I winked at Little Sunshine. It had been our secret. She clapped her hands over her mouth, then danced around the table and off the patio on to the grass. There she collapsed in a heap of pink ruffles.
    â€œYeah! It’s really happening!” she yelled.
    Tick looked at his sister and tipped his chair back. We were sitting on wrought iron outside at the dollhouse, so I didn’t have to correct him for unhinging the furniture. “Cool,” said Tick. A smile broke slowly across his face, as the plan dawned on him. “You’re not kidding, Mom?” And then the chair tipped forward with a clatter. “Really? That is awesome.”
    My daughter sprang up and danced around the yard. “The Sunshine!” she said. “Oh, how fun!” She called her grandfather Sunshine, but when he was grumpy, she called him Storm Cloud. He named her Little Sunshine.
    Dad and Tick got on well, too. When they were together, they rumbled and laughed together—a peculiar mix of young and old voices. Dad came up with “Tick.” When Tick could hardly walk, he liked to stick to Dad’s leg and ride around on his shoe. Dad would laugh and pick up his grandson and sweep him into the air with one hand, holding him up high until he squealed. I didn’t think of my baby son as a fat bug, but the name stuck.
    We were definitely headed in a new direction, this family of my elderly father and young children—and me in the middle.
    â€œGamps can have my room,” said Tick.
    â€œThat’s very generous of you,” I said.
    â€œOr we could build an addition to the cottage.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWe can finish off the storage room. We’ll set up a little club in there and jam and stuff. Gamps likes MTV.”
    That was puzzling, and true. The stroke had left him with some odd interests,