They were escounced in their mother’s dining room, the four of them, one at each side or end of the oak table. Their histories were captured in that wood: the everyday meals and fancy ones; their squabbles and their celebrations; the long, imprisoning ache of adolesence and the relative liberation of adulthood. There were stains and scratches both inadvertent and more deliberate. There was an ancient mound of spearmint gum still stuck underneath, Tim noted–it had been his.

Their mother leaned in, forearms flat on the table at one end. Tim sat at attention at the other. Their father was long dead and buried, rest his soul. They were here to address needs and wishes, their mother said with a sigh as she straightened her shoulders.

Hold on, give me a few more minutes, Tim wanted to say. And didn’t Dad already figure out all this with Mom long before he drifted into the ether? Tim took stock of each of his siblings to better focus. He could use libation other than iced tea with a mint sprig but it was only eleven o’clock. And everyone had these sorts of conversations with their aging parents. It couldn’t be that hard, they’d get it all figured out in an hour, then go back home.

Except Meredith, on his left, had already weighed in and she was determined to win; that was her M.O. And Delia at his right was turning the sweating glass around and around, the cork coaster spinning with it. She did not want to have to do this– though she wanted something for herself, but couldn’t quite say so.

If only their mother hadn’t broken a hip and a wrist during the February ice storm. If only dad was still around. If only we all lived nearby, Tim thought. But this was conterproductive thinking.

“The new place is perfect,” Mom said. “Not many stairs there, but quiet elevators going up three floors, plus a good view of the river, and very palatable food. I tasted a meal before signing. I can show you around if you would like.” She was smiling; it appeared she had accepted many changes. Then her smile wilted as her jaw tightened. “But first, we must tend to the house and land.”

Delia had stopped fidgeting and turned her warm brown eyes on their mother, resting her chin lightly on a hand. She suddenly leaned in, hand slipping. “If you don’t need the bulk of the money now, Mom, why not just, well, rent it out? You’d get a monthly income from it, as we talked about before. I could look after t hings. But on the other hand, a huge payment would be great–you wouldn’t have to worry about money. Um…so, what is it all worth now?” Shebegan to fidget again with her glass.

Meredith tensed as if awaiting a blow but Tim and Delia knew she in fact was preparing for a battle. She had likely determined its appraisal value. Well into her financial consultant career, this was her nature: how much, what was the likely outcome and what was the best strategy to get there (or avoid it)?

“Well, $750,00-800,00, they said!” Their mother’s voice betrayed surprise.

Meredith sat back suddenly, pushing away from the table in disbelief. “No, no–more like $950,00 is a far better bet. I’d push for over a mil. Come on! Who did you talk to, Mom? You have nine acres here besides a pleasant if older four bedroom house, after all. It depends on the buyers, too– like commerical, for example. That would up the ante!”

Tim expected his sister to jump up and haggle with any unseen appraisers. Or bang her mug on the table. Sold to the very highest bidder!

Their mother shrugged. “I trust my local real estate people– but where did you get your information, Meri?”

Tim heard them chattering away but, like Delia, he eyed the vanilla and chocolate wafers in the middle of the table. Sugar before lunch? They both took one of each flavor and slyly grinned at each other.

“Well, I see. More to think over, perhaps. Timothy?” His mother was calling him.

He licked fine crumbs from his lips and gently studied her. Iona Harper was lovely in a crisp light blue blouse, white hair pulled back from her subtly tanned face. She looked cool, even calm despite the discussion. As if she had made up her mind already but was being considerate by asking their opinion.

But why was he still always Timothy, Meredith was Meri and Delia was Delia or Deely? Because he had the misfortune of being the only son–or good fortune, which was more often the case over the decades, he had to admit.

“So, Timothy, what do you honestly think of selling now? If I don’t really need the money at this time? I am 78, and could live twenty years or ten. But the prices they get these days…!”

He cleared his throat then swallowed a moutful of ice-topped tea before replying. “I think… I haven’t from you, Mom, not fully. It’s clear Meredith is for selling and selling higher, and Deely may want you to hang on to it, however that is accomplished.” He glanced at his sisters and they nodded. “But your wishes aren’t clear and it is, afterall, your home… has been for forty-some years.”

She looked down at her folded hands atop the table. “And Terrance’s, don’t forget. And he’d say to do what I want to do. The problem is, I have mixed feelings. How can I not? It has been such a wonderful place to live and and embrace nature and raise three children and… my garden and–” she waved her hands through the air and they were like small birds set free, taking in all of it that she could, praising the place in a swoop. “It is your family home, as well, you three kids.”

Tim thought he saw Meredith roll her eyes then stop midway, and Delia swipe along her left eye but he continued.

“So you’d like us to help you decide, I get it. If your financials are strong and you aren’t worried about income now, then it’s really about what everyone’s wishes are, not your actual needs. So, we could vote.” He paused. “I’m still undecided, Mom. Frankly, it was a shock to hear you are moving so fast. And surprising to me that I am waffling.”

“Yes,” Delia murmured, openly dabbing at eyes with a napkin. “I moved back to our hometown just four years ago but never thought you’d up and just leave here.” She took a big breath, held it a second, let it go.

Meredith stared at the pretty crystal clock on a side table, thinking of the moving sale that needed to be planned. Next to it was a small, very old Western painting–their dad loved Western scenes– and it was of fine quality so might be valuable. How much more would their mother get rid of? It could net quite a lot. The small two bedroom apartment must be kept tidy, their mother said. The minimum was likely best. Delia had agreed it was too small for many extras, having gone with her on a tour.

Timothy was sympathetic to his mother and more to Delia than Meredith, but hunger started to dominate. He’d only had time for coffee and a dry croissant at the hotel. His return flight to Boston was in two days, not much time, at all. And yet. The house, the land. He felt sudden heat rise from chest to neck to face, bringing with it flickers of sadness and confusion. How much he loved it here when growing up. But his mother should enjoy more cash a bit before she died. She might travel again or want a new car or just have fun tossing it about. She had three grandchildren.

Iona, her own woman if still a mother, nodded. “I know, Timothy, but everyone comes to a moment when life will decide things for you if you haven’t done so first. So you all should vote. I can stay out of it, really–I’m making my own peace with it all and am soon moving on. More or less.” She sighed. “I have to tell you, the amount of money this house and land are worth is mind-boggling. It feels so strange for someone to reduce it to this or that number. It is a home, not a commodity. For wildlife as well as us.”

Meredith placed her arms across her chest, intent on controlling any stray emotion that might distract her. “But mom, it was once a commodity–a much, much cheaper one– when you and Dad bought it. I know you have deep affection for it, we all have enjoyed it– but.. it is still a commodity, don’t you see? And others could make a life here.”

Delia, despite her best efforts, shuddered and shot a strong beam of distaste at her sister.

“Yes, there are the ‘buts’ I still have, and there is another, sharper reality.” Their mother stood up. “However, I think it’s time for turkey and bacon sandwiches, potato salad and carrot cake. And let’s take a breather, shall we?”

Delia placed a tentative hand on Tim’s arm. He smiled at her, then winked as he used to long ago, provoking an easy laugh.

***

Later, as the June sun beat down on every animate and inanimate thing and a sweet breeze ruffled grasses and treetops–long after his sisters had gone home to a son (Delia) or to visit an old friend (Meredith)–Tim walked the property.

He began with the ample back garden area, enclosed by a slightly sagging, dirty white picket fence which he should fix. Or someone should be hired to fix. They’d enclosed it many years ago, hoping wildlife would avoid it and yet knowing just that wood fence would not be the solution, likely. It had proven somewhat useful depending on the critters. There were more woods and meadows beyond and about them, then; over time new housing, including many grand homes, ate up more natural spaces. But the Harper house remained surrounded by mostly wild and beautiful acreage. Their parents were the hold outs. No amount offered made them budge. The wanted the freedoms and responsibilities of owning land and their peaceful privacy more than any money.

Noting the squash, potato and tomato plants, the blueberry bushes and strawberry plants and more, he lingered. The flowers he faltered over, they were several, bright and beautiful all. Roses of oink, yellow and white, though, had begun their entrance around a few edges of fenced area. He had often helped tend this plot; everyone loved fresh produce on the table and canned in winter. It pained him to think it might lie fallow soon.

There was once a primary meandering trail stamped into the ground from all the footfalls moving to and from the large woodland. He could barely make it out through the tall waving grasses–they had felt so much taller when a boy; he could hide in the swaths that covered so much territory. It had been some time since anyone would have cleanly redefined the path. Toby, Delia’s son, enjoyed being out there, he knew that much. The smart, shy fourteen year old had texted with him on occasion, sent pictures of things discovered. Toby was thinking of becoming a naturalist, he’d hinted. An oceanographer himself, Tim felt pleased with his nephew’s idea; he vowed to visit him before he left.

If there had been room at his younger sister’s house, he’d have stayed there rather than a hotel, but it was 900 square feet and cramped already with two humans plus dog and cat. Delia had been divorced a few years and as a teacher lived frugally after having much more, but she said she was–and seemed–happier. Excepting their mother’s life-changing circumstances with a new plan. That had thrown her off.

“Mom won’t hear of Toby and me moving in with her. You know how proud and independent she has always been, she must live her own well-defined life until the very end. Which is a good thing. I think she wants to relinquish so much space as well as the stairs–and the memories there. But it is hard to do,” she’d said on the phone before he’d booked his trip.

Yes, he imagined that was so. Letting go, then going on. It had not been easy for him when his career moved him far away from Oregon. He still longed for mountains and the Pacific coastal adventures he’d had. He still looked for job openings, but his wife liked the East coast.

He scanned a vibrant blue horizon past the trees, then the reaching treetops; watched fat, noisy bees buzzing and heard music of song sparrows and redwinged blackbirds and crows shooting the bull. By the time he’d entered the relief of shady woods, he was nicely tired out. Sitting on a nurse log, a very old felled cedar, he tried to empty his mind.

It wasn’t easy leaving work to his team at the institute and Leslie to Genevieve, their baby. He’d waited so long to marry and have children and now that he had one, it was astonishingly harder, changing their lives in ways never anticipated. He tried to imagine what it’d be like if they could get out of Boston, find a peaceful country place. But Leslie wasn’t back to work yet, far from it. She struggled with post partum depression as well as the wiles and crankiness of a four month old infant. It would make such a difference to her health, his own peace of mind and their little girl as she grew up if they had a piece of pure nature at their bidding somewhere…

He shook his head at such daydreaming when a plump rabbit, making its way toward the meadow, quickly froze. Its pricked ears and twitching nose and whiskers, the rounded body still as a statue–he fell into the moment. The early summer sun lay lemony rays over wooded gound and amid abundant foliage; it touched the rabbit’s furriness and his own quieted body. Birds chorused on and on. And a redtail hawk or maybe an eagle called out with its high pitched voice. Then into his wide eyed viewing, a deer wandered. Its head lowered behind bushes as it grazed, but as Tim stood as stealthily as he could, it lifted its head. It gazed through trees, found him instantly with big eyes fixed upon his own. Tim’s heart beat hard as he held his breath. It remained like that a long moment, then bounded beyond his view.

His father had spoken of hunting when he was ten. Terrance said he didn’t much care for it but could teach Tim how to handle a rifle, a practical thing to know in the country. Tim agreed to shooting lessons but ddn’t try to hunt much the years following. It didn’t set right with him, either; he was more an animal protector, in the end, though it was ocean life that drew him most strongly.

Just then, Terrance seemed to slip down to meet Tim on that log. He shivered as a flick of energy raced up his back. He stood and looked about him, wondering about creatures, wondering about ghosts. His father likely stil adhered to the land all the way from heaven.

On his way back he considered it all. Should his mother sell her house–their house? Wasn’t it better to sell all or some of her land? It would ensure such security for her, as well and perhaps other family members. But what of the new owners, and possibly mercenary plans for building subdivisions? Would she care finally so much? She hadn’t said so. She had left it up to her children. Meredith was ready to sell, Delia appeared to be against it, and he was certain one moment and uncertain the next about what was best for their mother. For the family.

Living with a second husband and stepdaughter in Boise, Meredith had no interest in delaying the inevitable, she had said. Never to mince words, she had called him on the day they each got the call to visit their mother.

“Look, we all have homes, thankfully, and no one has the time to tend to things if left empty and unsold. Delia certainly isn’t going to put in the labor to keep it in great shape and would rent to any person who begs her if that course is taken. Mom hasn’t said she specifically wants us to keep it in the family, after all; she can sell or not, she says. You are way out by the Atlantic with the fish and hurricane weather, for goodness’ sake. And now you have a baby along with your somewhat new wife, worn out Leslie. Kevin and I have a second home in ski country. So let’s be reasonable, okay? Let’s meet up in Canby and tell Mom we’ll take care of things, and that means getting her out from under all that work. Tim, she should clearly sell the place.”

“You won’t miss it, Meri? Not even the old apple orchard you loved to wander?”

“Oh, Tim. Don’t go soft on me now! I don’t have time or energy to miss the past. We have so much going on in our lives. This is ordinary business, not a silly drama nor a tragedy. Let’s be sensible, get this done.”

Maybe his big sister was right, for once. He might call Delia and see what she thought after their table discussion, which had lasted well into the heat of the afternoon.

Tim wandered through the woods and came out on the other side, sighting no more deer but noting an osprey take flight from a thick grove of white oaks into the blue saucer of sky. He sauntered back to the house and hugged his mother farewell, but shared little of his thoughts. At the hotel, he lay in bed with hands behind his head, thinking of simpler times and a looming future. In the deep vault of night’s mysteries, he dreamed of birds sailing overhead yet watching him closely, and a little girl of about four running, running through grasses as tall as herself, and his wife weeping in his arms, perhaps in relief.

***

They met on the back veranda where they could look over the floruishing garden and open land and toward the place dense woods met the meadows, all dazzling with an emerald- and sage-hued beauty. Everyone had their mugs of caffeine, and they were full of their own thoughts while awaiting their mother’s arrival from the house’s shadowy interior. It was a morning of tender nerves and open vistas and a sense of life granting them more wonder and wisdom than they might ever be able to return. But they sat with nervous possibility.

Iona used a cane and made her way out. As she sat hard on the thick-cushioned wicker chair she seemed glad to be off her feet already. Meredith sat beside her in the matching chair. Delia got up and returned with a steaming mug for their mother, then took the spot by Tim on the porch swing.

“Well, we’ve made our choices in writing on a piece of paper. Let’s see what we’ve got,” Meredith said, tossing hers on the glass topped table before them.

The others did the same, though their mother had refrained. She had kept her hair down and about her thin shoulders; somehow she looked older as wisps fluttered about her pale face. She wore a navy cardigan over a white top and slacks; on her feet were thick soled sneakers. Drinking her coffee as she studied the still-folded slips of paper, she kept her face and emotions closed from her children.

Iona Harper had hoped to avoid such a moment. She’d expected that once she’d paid the apartment deposit at the retirement community she’d have been certain of her due course on all necessary matters. She had already boxed for charity many things that had once mattered and now were clutter. And donated to good places the majority of books, records and CDs. She had sold or given away china and crystal when the children had declined to take most. Letters, memorabilia and photos were for the moment boxed and stored–some things seemed reluctant to leave her own hands. She had kept a smaller desk but sold Terrance’s. More had to go, but this much had been done with help from Delia and a younger friend of Iona’s. The place seemed to echo more now, its high ceilings resonant with the small, more halting footsteps she managed better with healing time. Emptying the rooms brought tears and laughter and that had emptied her out more, too.

The place was done for, in her mind. She was about finished with it as Her Own Home, expecting the last door finally shut to close her up, too, when she left for good in a month. The finality of that hit her now. And it was not pleasant, after all, but facing reality was something she was pretty good at during her long, full life, as wife and mother and an award winning illustrator and teacher and more recently, a grandmother. And Iona was not done with all that, by far.

She stamped her cane–it was also handy for this sort of thing–on the floor to rouse them awake from their own reveries.

“Let me check the slips of paper and pronounce a decision, shall I?”

One by one she picked up the small folded bits, read the words that would change the course of this fine but simply designed home and finer land. Each slip assurred her she had done the right thing. And when she was done, to her embarrassment, she began to laugh through tears that leaked from her eyes in sweet relief.

“It is determined we are keeping the house as well as this land. For now, it remains in the family!” And she stamped her cane once more for good meaure.

Delia and Tim raised their grasped hands and shouted, “Hooray, yesss!” and nearly giggled in relief and de light, as if kids who were given the best thing of all time.

Meredith’s voice eeked through the commotion. “Oh, my gosh…really, you guys? You are tossing aside almost a million right now in family cash?”

Iona looked at her elder daughter and thought, Dear Meri has a lot to learn for so bright and successful a person. Will she find her way back to what matters most or not?

And Iona cleared her throat, clapped her hands loudly on her thighs. “And I have decided that Delia and Toby should be caretakers and occupants, should they so desire. You all shall own it one day and split the ample proceeds. But right now family has to keep it tidy, strong and full of life.”

“Oh, my Lord…you mean it?” Delia gasped, and Tim thought she might slide off the swing and collapse. But she composed herself enough to get up and go to their mother and give her a hug. “Thank you, Mom. You know we will love it here and look after it. And you will come by any time at all, night or day. Or even move back in.”

“No thank you, Delia, it is your responsibility now. But I will enjoy visiting… I think!”

Meredith sat quiet, for once. She looked from sibling to sibling and to her mother and shook her head. After a moment, however, she shrugged and got up for a coffee refill. It was a pleasant surprise when she returned with the pot and offered more to others.

“I could have guessed you’d give in to sentiment,” she said while resettling, “but I didn’t think you’d toss out all good sense. We still could sell off some of the land and have plenty left. It may not be worth so much in ten years. And I wonder what Dad would think.”

Tim swung back and forth, his and Delia’s feet pushes off, gliding forward; his heart was full, his mind clear. “Dad would be glad of it and you know it. He worked hard, made good money and he also gave much away. But, most of all, he had a heart for this land. Harper land. And we can visit Mom more comfortably–we can stay here with Delia and Toby now.”

Meredith’s arched eyebrows rose higher as she smiled a small smile.

“Amen,” their mother said with one more gentle stamp of her cane. “Now be at peace, Meredith, Delia and Timothy. Let’s appreciate this perfect June day.”

And that was the end of it.