A seagull drifted down from an air current and landed on the deck post. Pebbles cocked her head but didn’t bark.

Seagulls were lovely. Lauren had never understood why people called them rats of the sky (pigeons held that title, in her opinion). No, seagulls were impressive, flying like no other, diving, fishing, bobbing on the water. Calm and fearless. If she had to pick a Patronus, seagull would be in the running. Maybe part of her experience in the Great Beyond could be seagull-for-a-day.

She didn’t realize she was crying till a tear plopped onto Pebbles’s head. Her fortieth birthday? Who was she kidding?

But maybe . . . maybe she could make it till thirty.

* * *

SHE STARTED WORKING remotely more often. And while Lauren had always loved her job, she loved it even more now. She currently had two projects: one, an easy but satisfying job of creating a lookout in a tiny patch of land the City of Providence had just acquired on College Hill. Though it was a circle of only about thirty feet in diameter, it overlooked the beautiful dome of the capitol building and the rooftops of a few blocks of historic homes. She planned on incorporating a couple of benches, a circular contemplation maze that would encourage people to spend time in the small park, and a raised stone structure in the center. The other project was a new wing in the downtown library, which was a bit more complicated. Bruce the Mighty and Beneficent had just given her that one, and she was waiting on a use study that would guide her design.

She wanted to leave her mark. That was the advice Dad had given her when she was seventeen and wondering what to do as an adult. “Whatever you choose, do with all your heart, and leave your mark,” he said, covering her hand with his. “If you’re going to be a bartender, be the bartender everyone loves to talk to, who invents the best drinks and makes you feel right at home. If you’re going to be a hairdresser, make every customer feel good about themselves.”

“If I’m going to be a fashion designer, make clothes that make people feel happy and confident,” she said.

“Exactly, punkin. Exactly.”

He’d never know how she’d changed majors after his death, wanting something different, something that would benefit the community, not just customers. He’d never see an area she designed.

But they existed, and she had more to do. “Miles to go before I sleep,” she said to Pebbles, who wagged. “And I do mean miles.” Attitude was everything, after all.

The summer spooled out like yards and yards of silk, beautiful and gentle, one day sliding into the next. Like Lauren, Josh could work from anywhere, so he was always here unless she ordered him to go back to Providence for a night. He needed his space, whether he wanted it or not. He needed his punching bag and to see Ben Kim, who understood him like no one else. Lauren knew that, even if Josh wouldn’t admit it.

In July, Jen took a leave from work for two months and brought the kids up for days at a time, much to Lauren’s delight. Josh would give them piggyback rides and take them in the surf while the sisters sat on the beach. When Darius came up, they’d eat late—after Sebastian and Octavia were in bed—laughing and telling stories. Lauren’s mom came sometimes, too, though she had to be cajoled into making the trip. “I don’t want to intrude,” she’d say, or “You girls don’t want me there.”

Whatever. Lauren lacked the energy to convince her mother to come. Not everyone was the type to rise to an occasion, and Lauren just didn’t have the time to beg her mom to . . . mother. Donna had never really been the type who nurtured. That was her dad’s area of expertise, and unfortunately, he was dead.

Sarah and Stephanie came often, too. The Kims spent a week in July and promised to visit again. There was plenty of space, after all. Her sickness had become part of their lives, too, which made things easier. “Grab me another tank while you’re up,” Lauren might say, and Sarah would get the oxygen and attach the hose like a pro. Stephanie, who had once planned on going to medical school, would hand her the Ventolin inhaler before Lauren realized she needed it.

One day, when she and her mother-in-law were alone, opting not to go to Poit’s for mini-golf, Stephanie mentioned that once again, someone had asked her if she’d adopted Josh. “He looks like both his parents,” Steph said. “You just have to look harder to see me in there.”

“Did you love him, Steph?” Lauren asked. “Josh’s father?”

“That bum? No.” She looked at Lauren with beautiful Nordic-blue eyes. “Nope. It was a fling.”

“Did you ever look for him, or tell him about Josh?”

Steph was quiet for a minute. “I tried,” she said. “We were both students. He left for a summer program, said he’d be back before the baby came, and I never heard from him again. I emailed him; his address was defunct.” Steph sipped her water. Like her son, she didn’t drink alcohol. “After Josh was born, I stopped trying to contact him. He had my email. We weren’t hard to find.”

Lauren tried to imagine anyone turning his back on his pregnant girlfriend and just . . . vanishing. “Sounds like he was a spineless toddler.”

“There you go. We’re better off without him.”

“Do you think Josh ever wonders about him?” Lauren asked.

“He used to ask,” Stephanie said. “And I didn’t know exactly how to put it, so I just said, ‘Families come in all shapes and sizes,’ that kind of thing. We had Ben and Sumi. Ben did all those father-son things for school.”

“I love that guy,” Lauren said.

“Yeah. I think Josh liked people asking him if he was Korean when they saw him and Ben together.”

“What was the bio-dad’s background?” Josh could fall into any category—Latino, Asian, Middle Eastern, Roma . . .

“I honestly don’t think we ever talked about it. Like I said, it was maybe a five-week thing. He was from the Midwest. That’s all I remember.” If she knew more, she wasn’t saying.