The smell of baking bread, toast and frying bacon filled the kitchen before wafting through the door into the dining room, which was already set with ptters of eggs, fried tomatoes and beans.

  “God, I love this country,” Carol said as she watched the thicker, meatier, version of bacon frying in the pan. “Now if they only learned to make coffee.”

  “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,” Edith said as she sipped from her mug of tea.

  “Well, he can taketh away the tea and leaveth the bacon,” Carol announced.

  She’d woken early by her standards, but not early enough. She’d rolled over and watched as Edith—for what must have been the twentieth time— unwrapped the driftwood box and held each item gently—lovingly—as her broad smile shined down upon it. She read the note and letter as if it were the first time. After accepting Aric’s gift—once she’d stopped crying—she’d started calling him Edward, and he had returned the favor by calling her Eleanor.

  “Is this gonna be a thing now?” Carol had asked pyfully. Edith had simply nodded as joyful tears continued to roll down her face.

  The bags were packed—and stacked—in the hall, but out of the way of the front door. Outside the cottage Ed Martell was using a gray card to set the exposure on each of his cameras. He would make the final adjustments just before mounting them, each in turn, onto his tripod. The day was overcast, threatening rain; but not until well after they were on their way. Still, he was thankful of the clouds, which negated the bothersome trouble of direct sunlight in outdoor photography.

  “House’ll seem empty after this,” George said as he brought a few pieces of wood in before pcing them in the sitting room firepce.

  “When are your next paying guests arriving?” Alex asked.

  He dusted his hands off on his trousers and cocked his head toward the east as the smell of burning applewood intensified. “Day after tomorrow. A couple down from London. Won’t be the same.”

  “Never know, George,” Carol said pyfully as she rubbed the man’s shoulder, “the wife might be a real stunner.”

  “Don’t encourage him, love,” Mavis said as she removed crisp pieces of back bacon from the pan and set them on a paper towel lined serving dish.

  Breakfast was merry, even if that merriment was somewhat forced to hide the sadness of parting from new found friends. Afterward, almost by mutual if unspoken consent they broke up into groups of two. No one was surprised to see Carol and Carlos stroll comfortably arm in arm in the direction of the path that would lead them past George’s makeshift shed and to the beach. Even Edith and Delphine walking in the opposite direction along the cliff path was not noteworthy.

  “Did you know before st night that we were all having the same dreams?” Delphine asked as the wind fought with her hair, and the kerchief that was keeping it in check.

  Edith shook her head, her own hair already a wind blown mess. “No. I knew they were different, at least I think I knew. But I thought—you know—the three of us are connected—it’s natural I’d dream about all of us. And you flying on the beach, and then in our dream. Not a hard connection to make is it?”

  Delphine executed a half shrug with quarter head tilt. “But the rest of it—it felt as natural as breathing. I never doubted I could do it.”

  Edith smiled as she locked arms with her friend and sworn sister. “That’s the beauty of dreams.”

  Aric and Alex took it upon themselves to act as porters and load the luggage into the van that had not moved an inch since their arrival. Afterward they stood by the driver’s door (which, In Aric’s opinion, was still on the wrong side).

  “Next trip we take, we should go to Wales,” Alex said. “Three cliffs bay, on Gower peninsu. Beautiful.”

  Aric nodded in agreement. “Sounds wonderful. I’d love to see it.”

  They understood each other, without either having to say anything. They were both loners. Both navigating a world that didn’t seem to know what to do with them. For different reason, sure. But those reasons had separated each man from—kept them apart from—things they very much desired. Companionship. Community. A sense of pce. Belonging.

  “We should spend more time together,” Aric said.

  Alex smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Aric thought for a moment. “No darts.”

  Alex smirked. “Fine.”

  It was one of his major sources of pocket money.

  A short distance away Ed Martell was fiddling with his camera and talking to Hank.

  “I’ll press the button and have just enough time to get back to the group for the picture.”

  “Unless you trip and nd on your face halfway there.”

  Ed ughed. “Well then, that’ll be a photo worth keeping.”

  Hank nodded as he smiled. “Make a copy for me in that case.”

  It had taken time, but Hank had mellowed where Aric was concerned. And also Edith. Mostly. She still had a grip on a good part of his heart, but Hank knew it was hopeless. Even if, for some reason, she chucked Aric overboard, how could anybody compare to him. It would be like a novice guitarist taking the stage after Eric Cpton. It was a recipe for disappointment. For both of them.

  “Who’s that girl on Carol’s rugby team you were talking to the other day?” Ed asked him. He’d been at the pub and accidentally bumped into her. For the third time if anyone was keeping count.

  “You mean Amy?” Hank asked nonchantly.

  Ed rolled his eyes but kept them on his preparations for the photo session. “That her name?”

  “Think so,” he answered even though he knew it for certain. And her st name.

  “She seems nice.”

  It was in these small increments that Ed and Hank talked.

  The photos were completed. Six color, six bck and white. Nine people smiling in front of the cottage, those same nine standing with the coast as their backdrop.

  Ed packed his equipment in the van as the visitor entered Mavis’ kitchen, a child’s drawing in her hand.

  “You’ll never believe the tale Davy and those children are spinning,” Davy’s mother said as she y the crayon picture depicting a man and a woman with wings flying over a sea of blue and green squiggles.

  Mavis looked at the image etched in bright colors and her memory fshed back to the night before.

  “Ain’t no way down to that cave from the path, not unless he sprouted wings.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck began to wriggle as a thought formed in her mind before being squashed out of existence.

  “Little ones have wonderful imaginations,” she said as a chill ran up her back.

  Almost on cue Aric walked into the kitchen. He smiled at Davy’s mother, who needed a few seconds to realize that she had stopped breathing. He handed Mavis a check from Ed Martell while Davy’s mother fussed with her hair.

  “We can’t thank you enough for letting us stay. Having to leave feels like it did when I left home to join the Army. I’ll miss it here. I’ll miss you.”

  “God, Mavis, you turned bright red.” Davy’s still-unnamed mother said as Mavis put her hands to her face.

  “What did you do now?” Carol asked as she appeared from the living room, followed by Alex.

  Aric held his hands out in half hearted appeal. “I didn’t do anything. I just said thank you.”

  “That all you did?” Alex asked “She’s red as a beet.”

  Ed Martell opened the kitchen door, letting in a cold outdoor draft. “Time to go everyone. Time and tide.”

  “Here, love, this is for you,” Mavis said as she handed Aric a covered basket filled with baked sweets to accompany the sack of roast beef sandwiches that she’d given Edith.

  “For him?” Alex asked. “Do any of us get a basket?”

  Carol looked at him disbelievingly. “What do you think?”

  “Come on everyone,” Ed said as everyone said goodbye to George and Mavis Tregowan, “back to the salt mines.”