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It had been a long day and a longer week for Sky. It was officially summer vacation so the aquarium had been over run by wild children and their already exhausted parents or nannies. During the summer, they doubled the daily marine mammal shows so he'd been talking nonstop. It was going to be a long summer. Sky was ready to be home in his bed for the next two days. As much as he loved living on Mirabella... Sky really hated this fucking ferry sometimes.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked, finding an empty seat next to someone looking out at the ocean. Sky sat down before he even finished asking. He was trying to be polite, but he was sitting regardless. He let out a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand. "God, it's been a long week." He sighed. "There's a beer and some buffalo wings with my name on it the second I get off this boat."

the only thing keeping honey from her daughter, who sat at home with a babysitter and then, from a class of wine in the bath, was this ferry, which somehow felt like it was running slower than she imagined possible. her trips into the city were few and far between because of this, sure, but also because it was so much more, compared to the little island she inhabited. If only the shipping for certain ingredients didn’t cost so much. at least it was a lovely view.

"oh, please, i'd love the company" she replies, eyes following the man taking his seat, though he doesn't technically need her permission, a public space, afterall. she doesn't mean to watch, as he yawns, but he is right next to her, in her defense. "oh, my plans are glass of wine in perfect silence, maybe by some candle light, if i'm feeling fancy, but i admire the beer and wings thing, feels right. do you have a favorite place on the island or is it more of a in the solitude of your home kind of activity?"

she hated him. despised. loathed.         well. not him. just his inability to control the incessant barking at four in the morning. she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine coming on that has absolutely nothing to do with the party in west hollywood she had been seen at until 1am and absolutely everything to do with the unceremonious wake-up call at 4:30am from her bloody neighbour’s dog.

at some point, the barking fades, and divya thinks she might be able to finally get some more sleep, but that moment never comes. she’s tossing and turning — onto her side, then her back, then her front, then on her back again. she’s awake, and she’s not sure she’s going to be able to get any more sleep now, so she decides that now is probably a good time to get up. start her day. and undoubtedly get some coffee from clementine café to starve off the inevitable exhaustion that is bound for her.

divya takes a brisk shower, because she thinks that will help make her a somewhat functioning human until there’s caffeine in her system. she even ices her face, under some inane idea that that will make her more pleasant to be around. but nothing really takes the cake until she’s settled at a bench with her very large cup of dirty chai that has not one… not two… but three shots of espresso. barely three sips in when she senses his presence, but it’s his voice that seems to momentarily stun her. then, after rebooting her brain, she remembers who she’s dealing with; she bristles. she knows exactly who’s standing behind her, and she hates him. despises. loathes.

“i do not have enough caffeine in me to deal with you this morning, emerson.” spoken with such finality… such conviction, she’s convinced he may actually listen this time.

the ferry runs every morning, docking on the other beach, close enough though, for visitors to hear it’s whistle across the island, warning the residents, the tourists, everyone of its arrivals and departures. if he wasn’t already awake when it docked, he was sure it would be his morning alarm. it is safe to say, at this point in his life, emerson is a morning person, so coras bark isn't the end of the world for him, even if he could use the extra sleep. he knows however that his dogs pleads to be walked on the beach don't sit well with everyone, and in any other circumstance he would be apologetic, even offer to buy them ear plugs. but this was divya, who hated him, it seemed, on principle. which meant emerson really loved toying with her. it didn't start out like this, though. no originally, he had been willing to compromise, but divya was intense in a way he hadn't expected. she was ready to dislike him from the jump, and as much as he tried he found it amusing and slightly offensive. she hardly knew him, but had come to an idea of him her head that soured her attitude towards him. he could, and likely should, take it more seriously. but somehow, unfortunately, along the way, he realized he thought she looked kind of cute when she was sending the deadliest of glares his way. so maybe he leaned into it, how annoying she found him, maybe he put up with her contempt because she interested him ways he hadn't really expected. whatever the reason was, this is where they were at. "no? what amount of caffeiene is the appropriate amount to deal with me then, divya?"

she swiped a slice from the box before perching on a nearby barstool, leaving the rest to him. lord knew he could put away food when he remembered to eat. judging by the look of him, and the smoke that clung to his collar, just beneath the acrid smell of ethanol, she wasn't entirely convinced he'd had time for a lunch break. 

“surprisingly, the cafe’s still standing,” she replied around a bite. it was a joke now, but when she first took over, there were very real concerns about the sea-worn foundation. “i ordered the shingles already. they should be delivered tuesday, but they were trying to—” she paused, searching for the least offensive phrasing, “—basically screw me on the install. ten grand all in.”

the number still felt absurd when she said it out loud. “so if you can talk william into something better, i might actually build a shrine in your honor. maybe put your picture up in the café, right next to the menu." she paused. “although that might give some people the wrong idea… might score you a couple dates, though.” she added a wink for good measure.

"well, i've got to have something to fall back on, you know, in case the medical career thing doesn't follow through," this is a joke, emerson says it like it is, but there is an underlying truth to it. one that both rockwell's recognize. they did expect him to have something to fall back on, they wanted it to be their decision. emerson doesn't dwell, didn't like to sit in his feelings. so he makes the joke and he moves on from it, hoping his sister doesn't want to dive deeper into that. it's easy, which he is glad for, for them to fall into this habit, the occasional after work dinner. he doesn't feel like he has to pretend to be not exhausted, doesn't have to be some put together version that the town expects, the city expects, the rest of the family expects. his first slice of pizza disappears faster than he can breathe, or at least it seems like it does. he should be better at caring for himself, he thinks, a gentle nudge from the doctor in him. but he won't be, he knows. "not surprising at all, you're doing really well, just some structual stuff," he can't help it, the need to revert any negative talk his sister points at herself, even the smallest thing, an attempt to fix years worth of their families influence. ten grand for an install makes him cringe, even if it sounds right, on an island, on the west coast. "i don't think i need a shrine, nor do i have any time for dating" he pulls a face at that, low commitment one night stands were more his thing, anyway. "but i'll talk to william, and if all else fails, i'll give you the money."

there are things about mirabella that khadija could do without, the residents’ constant need to know your business, the way she always felt like there were eyes on her, how sometimes she’d have sand in her shoes even if she hadn’t visited the beach that day. but were the things that khadija also savored, that she felt like you couldn’t get anywhere else. yes, the constant smell of citrus in the air, which was better than say, pickles, and the way her latte always came out perfectly when it was at the cafe near the water, but what was the most important was how it somehow always felt like summer vacation in the best way. her skin was always warm and sun-kissed, and the farmers market was always lively on the weekends. "oh, could change the course of things indefnitely." khadija agrees, and then notes tessa's suggestion with a look that seems like she hadn't thought of it, and maybe she should have. "oh, i am always down for a party, tasting included."

If Len believed in God, he would have been thanking them over and over. First, he would thank them for the ease in which his large crochet tote bag allowed him to carry all of his purchases, and next, he would be thanking them for the fact that his bank account allowed him to safely purchase all that he had so far. He understood that he was lucky in that department, and he understood it more than ever when it came time to enjoy all that he had bought. It wasn't yet time to head home and make a meal out of the fresh produce - the thing he was looking forward to the most - but he was still more than enjoying his browsing of the stalls he hadn't quite cleaned out yet.

His laughter was so loud at the other's question only because he had been having the same internal debate in his own mind only a minute earlier. "Oh, no literally, I totally get it. I was immediately like: the sun-dried tomato and mozzarella, obviously, because it's more gourmet or whatever, you know? But then I started thinking of the versatility of the garlic and rosemary, as well as the iconic pairing that those two are, and I started thinking that I shouldn't underestimate it. But I'm definitely not missing out on the sun-dried tomato and mozzarella loaf." As if comedically timed, the vendor handed Len the two bagged loaves that he had purchased. "Thank you so much," he told them, before turning back to Khadija and explaining, "so I got both."

khadija is likes to think she is smart, evidenced by her career, butt less so, by her decision making skills. she can dive into an undercover case, stand toe to toe with dirty politicians and corrupt business owners, but there was the choice of two breads in front of her and she found it to be her biggest dilemma.  she should probably examine that, the indecision in the little things, but right now she was just focused on whatever was happening here. sundried or garlic.

"honestly, i might have to bite the bullet and get both, too. i'm spoiled for choice, i guess. there's too many ideas, pair with too many things, and i know if i don't buy both i'll end up regretting it." she does the same, ends up buying both loaves of bread and then turning to len. "obviously we need to take the first date of them together, if you're not busy?"

"You flatter me," Birdie preened, fluttering eye lashes and fanning herself with a hand. Wheeling her cart behind her, she followed Khadija towards the lemonades. She took a handful of napkins from the holder and shoved them into her bag just in case they needed them. Birdie worked with kids, napkins were always needed and old habits died hard. She took her lemonade when it was offered to her and then led the way towards the beach. When they were settled on the sand, Birdie turned her full attention towards her friend. "Fill me in on life, Dija, I have not seen you in literally forever..." Because last weekend was forever for a people person like Bird. She took a healthy sip of her lemonade, her lips twisting slightly at the delicious tartness of it. "Working on anything cool lately?"

the sound of the door closing sent cora scrambling for the entry hall, and lavinia rolled off the couch after her. “welcome home, stranger,” she called over the chocolate lab’s mad dash for the entryway, her nails scratching the hardwood.

by virtue of their schedules, the siblings were often ships in the night. she would be out the door long before he went for his run, and often he would get back from the clinic just after she’d gone to bed. in fact, she was certain that she hadn’t seen him since tuesday.

lav kept saying that she needed to look for her own place, but somehow months had turned into nearly two years with little progress. there was always some distraction —the café needed a new roof, the realtor could only do showings at peak business hours, her computer wasn’t loading fast enough— and the search kept stalling.

truth be told, she’d grown accustomed to living with emerson and his dog. there was something comforting about sharing a home with someone again. before dawn each morning, she'd leave an iced vanilla latte in the fridge for him — always with espresso ice cubes so it never diluted before he got around to drinking it. 

“great timing, the pizza just got here.” she padded into the kitchen, pulling the box from the oven where she’d stashed it to keep warm. “and before you say anything, no, i didn’t ask for kale this time.” that had been an unfortunate attempt at being healthy, a mistake she would not make again. “so, were you good busy or shitty busy?”

emerson would be lying if he said the best part of his day wasn’t the way cora always ran for the door when he walked in. maybe it was cliche, mans best friend, but she really was — his companion before anyone else came into his life on mirabella.  lavinia moving in with him had kind of come at the perfect time, a few years into his time on the island and feeling, somehow homesick, perhaps not for the home itself, but some of the comfort it provided. he knows it can’t stay like this, her living out of his guest room, it’s not sustainable on the long term, but it’s worked, in an odd sort of way for the last two years.  he’s pretty sure it’s because their schedules rarely, if ever, line up. he’s got a constant need to go, hard to slow down. he’d never been good with being left alone with his own thoughts, not that he’d touch that with a ten foot pole.  there were nights, however, where both of their schedules took a break, allowing them the time to catch up — or at the very least, decompress and exist in the same space at the same time.  he stops in the doorway to sanitize his hands, to hopefully erase the scent of the cigarette he smoked on his walk down from his skin. “I pride myself on being able to arrive just when the food is ready, no earlier, no later.” a joke, and perhaps, not a very good one and then he grimaces at the memory. he was a doctor and sure, he understood the importance of staying healthy, but who put kale on a pizza?  he kicks off his shoes, and meets her halfway, grabbing the box from her hands, and raises an eyebrow, not a question, but in contemplation. “a little of both, saw way too many kids today,” and then “how’s the cafe going? did you get the stuff you needed for the repairs? I was talking to william at the hardware store about quotes, for the work and i think I can talk him down a little more, if you’d like.”

khadija will not think too far into the fact that they choose the bread that saffron could eat. she fears that if she acknowledges it, that if she dips her toes into that line of thinking that she’d sink into something she was sure was just friendship, was just something easy and platonic. she does however notice the pink tinge to saffrons cheeks, and tries to push away the one that threatens to cover her own when the other compliments her. oh. “gentle affection” khadija repeats, voice soft, lower than her usual register. khadija could not keep a plant alive unless it was a succulent, this was true, and she never felt any special affection towards a particular plant, but suddenly she wanted to write poetry about pink peonies for reasons she wasn’t ready to examine. when saffron agrees, she lights up in a way her mother once described as sunshine in human form. it made her roll her eyes at the time. it still kind of does. she pays for her bread, and she grabs at saffrons arm, linking theirs together. "oh, saffron, honey, you weren't getting out of it even if you tried."