“Yes,” Carson replied honestly and without hesitation. “I’m happy for her. It’s her turn.”

“But it does shine a light on your own darkness. Is that it?”

“I guess so.” Carson lifted her teacup with two hands, relishing the warmth that seeped into her palms.

“My dear”—Mamaw set down her cup—“confide in your old grandmother.”

Carson sighed. “I’m always talking about my problems. I’m tired of listening to myself.”

“I’m not the least tired.”

Carson cast a grateful smile Mamaw’s way. “It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

“I was sitting at the table tonight, looking around at all the happy faces. Harper and Taylor, Dora and Devlin. Even you and Girard!”

Mamaw lifted a corner of her mouth ruefully. “All couples.”

“Yeah. And then there’s me. Poor Carson. All alone. Again.”

“That was your choice.”

“I know, I know. . . .” Carson sighed heavily. “I’m so good at messing up my life.”

“You’re also good at living life to the fullest. My darling, you cannot live fully and not sometimes get hurt. Your capacity for love equals your capacity for pain.”

“That’s why I don’t want a relationship. It hurts too much. I hurt them too much.” Carson shook her head decisively. “It’s not worth it.”

“Then what is your choice? To armor yourself against love? To lock yourself indoors?” Mamaw reached out to place her hand on Carson’s arm. “Carson, that isn’t you.”

“Maybe it should be.”

Mamaw picked up her cup and, closing her eyes, took a bracing sip. When she set the cup down, she crossed her arms in front of her. “Remember back to last May. When that shark frightened you. You were terrified to go back into the water. Do you remember how miserable you were? You felt cut off from what gave you the most joy. But then you found Delphine. Her greatest lesson to you was to remind you how to live in the present. To laugh. To dive headfirst into the water without fear.”

“And she got hurt.”

“And she got well.”

Carson frowned and looked at her tea.

“In all my years I’ve made many plans.” Mamaw laughed at herself. “As you know. I’ve learned that my priorities often shift as time goes by, and I have to adjust my plans accordingly.” She shook her head with both resignation and humor. “Life is full of surprises. And timing . . . people always underestimate how important good timing is.”

She paused and gazed off a moment. In the dim light, with her wistful expression, Carson caught a glimpse of how Mamaw must have looked when she was a young woman making those plans. Her profile so elegant. Her expression so full of intelligence and purpose and personality. Carson saw her father’s profile. Her own profile.

Mamaw turned back with a wry smile. “Allow me to share this one piece of advice. Welcome change. Accept the good and the bad. Your triumphs and your mistakes. There will be plenty of both in your life, I assure you. It’s all part of the process. The secret to happiness is to embrace the humility to accept what comes and the courage to continue on your life’s path with an open heart.”

Carson leaned against the counter and thought of the shark again. “Moving forward.”

“Yes, dear.” Mamaw leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Carson’s forehead. Then Mamaw straightened and took hold of her cup of tea. “I think we’ve had enough conversation for one night. I’m taking my hot tea and saying good night.” She wagged her brows. “I’m off to read.”

Later, Carson lay on her bed, her hands behind her head and ankles crossed, staring up at the elaborately framed portrait of her ancestor Claire Muir.

Mamaw had hung the portrait in Carson’s bedroom when she was an adolescent in her ugly-duckling stage. She’d desperately wanted to be the blond-haired, fair-skinned southern belle her sister Dora was. Mamaw had told Carson the fabled story of how Claire had brazenly broken with her family to marry the famous Gentleman Pirate. Their love story was legendary. Since then, whenever Carson had felt insecure or troubled, she’d gazed at the portrait of the beautiful woman with the raven hair and brilliant blue eyes and found solace, clarity, and inspiration.

As Carson stared at the portrait now, she wondered how Claire had acquired her fierce courage and independence. Carson brought to mind Mamaw’s words: The secret to happiness is to embrace the humility to accept what comes and the courage to continue on your life’s path with an open heart.

“Grandmother Claire,” Carson whispered, “give me strength.”

Carson pulled herself into a sitting position and sat cross-legged on her bed. In AA she had learned that she had to examine her past mistakes. To ask for forgiveness for these errors. She lifted her phone and in her contacts found the number she was looking for. After punching the CALL button, she took a deep breath.

A man’s voice answered, “Hello?”

For a moment, Carson froze. Then she blurted out, “Hello. Is this Jason Kowalski?”

“Yes.” The voice sounded impatient, as though he’d regretted answering the phone. “Who’s this?”

“This is Carson Muir. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Carson Muir?” The question in his tone indicated he didn’t remember who she was.

“Yes. I was the stills photographer on your film Aimless. You fired me.”

There was a pause, then a wary “. . . Oh, yes.”

“I won’t take much of your time. You see, I joined AA recently, and part of the program is for me to make amends. I’m calling to apologize to you for getting drunk during the shooting of your film. I know I caused delays. It was unprofessional and I’m very sorry.” She took a breath. “That’s all. Thank you for listening.”

“Wait. You said you joined AA?”

Carson hesitated. “Yes.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had a drink?”

“Three months.”

“Good start.”

“Thanks.”

He coughed. “I’m in AA myself.”

“Oh?” She held her breath.

After a pause, Mr. Kowalski cleared his throat. “Listen, you do good work. When you’re sober,” he qualified. “If you’re interested, I might have a job for you.”