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hummingbird’s wings. She told herself it was happiness and swallowed. He pulled a ring from his pocket, a small pearl set in the center, and said, “Bella, marry me?”
    What else could she say but yes?

Lucy
    Applebury, Massachusetts
Present Day
    “Oh, hello, Lucia. I’m about to start the back nine,” Susan answered when she phoned the next morning. Translation: I’m busy as usual , so hurry up.
    If only she’d known about her grandmother’s final wishes, she could have asked her mother about it at the funeral, face-to-face. Asking over the phone was a poor substitute and, without Juliet at home to guide her, Lucy couldn’t unravel the intricacies of a video call. Lucy couldn’t face a trip to Florida—the land of golf, Disney, and her mother—so a phone call would have to suffice.
    “How are you, Mom?” Lucy stalled.
    “My schedule is packed. I missed most of my activities last week because I had to come to Boston for your grandmother’s funeral.” Lucy reminded herself that everyone grieved differently, even if her mother didn’t appear to be grieving her own mother at all.
    Susan continued, “Senior Prom is this Saturday at the club. I’ve still got to find a dress. I found a turquoise one in a size six but I’m swimming in it. I’ll have to go back and get a four . . .”
    Lucy fought the urge to glance down at her definitely-not-size four thighs. She loved food far too much to ever be a size four.
    “That’s great, Mom. Send me some photos.”
    “I’ll post them online.”
    “I’m glad you’re keeping busy,” Lucy stalled again.
    “Have you gone to any of those book clubs or social groups?” Her mother sighed, and even with a fifteen hundred mile separation, maternal disapproval fell on Lucy like a heavy cloak. “I emailed the info to you.”
    “I’ll take a look at it?”
    “Lucia, I hate when you answer with a question like that,” Susan snapped. “I wish you would fix yourself up. You’ll never find someone the way you dress.”
    “I always find it odd you want me to find someone when you never could be bothered to marry.”
    “Some people are meant to be married. I’m not one of them. You, however, are,” Susan sighed. “Now what did you need? I have a lunch meeting.”
    “Who are you having lunch with?”
    “Bob Sanders.”
    “The Realtor? The guy you tried to fix me up with when I visited?” Lucy shuddered at the memory of an endless dinner date where Bob regaled her with his adventures in real estate sales, described every fish he’d ever caught, and then stuck his hand up her skirt over dessert.
    “He’s perfectly nice.”
    “Good. You date him then. Here’s a tip: don’t wear a skirt or order dessert.”
    “I never order dessert. And it’s not a date. I’m considering getting my license. Bob agreed to chat with me about it.”
    “But Mom, you just retired last year.”
    “I know that, Lucia. I’m bored. I need a challenge. Selling real estate is flexible. You know, you should consider it. I’ll have him call you.”
    Lucy could not imagine a worse mismatch than a real estate career for her. She didn’t possess a gift for sales and she was not at all detail oriented. But, saying that would provoke her mother into a lecture on confidence that she didn’t need.
    Lucy sighed. She’d long ago recognized the futility of wishing her mother was a different type of mother. Her mother loved her, Lucy knew and recognized that. And she also realized that her own daughter, Juliet, was far more like Susan than she was like her. Perhaps, if Juliet had a daughter some day in the distant future, Lucy could be to that imagined child what Nonna Belladonna was to her. Maybe their genes skipped generations. And, upon reflection, she didn’t know any woman who ever enjoyed an easy relationship with her own mother.
    “Jack Hamilton came by to see me on Tuesday. About Nonna’s will.”
    “That must have been a short visit. She didn’t have anything to