Twenty-Two—Bo
I
was just scooping the last of tiny wine-glass shards into the trash can when Geneva Talbot made her way in from the patio. She was carrying what was left of the bread and an empty tray that had held raspberry tarts. I quickly dried my gloved hands and took them from her. She smiled.
“If I were in a restaurant, I would ask for a couple of those heavenly tartlets to go. I understand you’re responsible for those, dear boy.”
I felt myself blush a little as I lifted my brow in the affirmative. Then I peeled off my gloves and reached for the aluminum foil, “I have another half a tray in the fridge; you’re welcome to them.”
“Oh, Benjamin, you are too, too kind.” She looked around Lully’s kitchen appreciatively, and I followed her gaze. Here, the colors were soft but rich, the style slightly southwestern with clay tiles and turquoise accent pieces. Lully loved to cook. She loved to have parties and serve up international cuisine that she prepared herself. She had cookbooks from all over the world, and her collection was housed in a custom-built bookshelf that spanned the far wall next to a massive table that seated twelve. She had a formal dining room, but her kitchen was her heart. That’s what I told Geneva.
“I feel like I know her,” the old woman said. “You can tell a lot about a person by the feel of their home. Your aunt is happy, I think.”
I nodded. “She is. ”
“And good…” Ivy’s enigmatic grandmother said, taking in the kitchen again. “Goodness inhabits these walls, this home.” Her eyes came to rest on me. “Present company included, Benjamin.”
I chuckled nervously as I wrapped the tarts.
Geneva Talbot smiled, eyeing me. “Oh, pay no attention to me, dear boy. I did not mean to embarrass you. I just…I just sense things sometimes, and then I can’t help but acknowledge them. Out loud.”
She was still smiling when my curiosity broke free. “Soooo…What else do you sense about me? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
“Not at all, Benjamin.” She walked back toward me, and I was suddenly tense. And when she took my hand in both of hers, my impulse was to recoil because I’m me, and I’m definitely not a hand-holder. But Geneva Talbot was a force that I could almost feel flowing into me. Her hands were very warm, her eyes very intense. “I think you are an utterly fascinating man, Benjamin Sutton. And, if I were to guess, I would say perhaps tortured with far too much self-doubt.”
“Who told you that?” I said, and then caught myself. “I mean, why do you say that?”
She squeezed my palm. “Just a sense. I also sense that you are a profound gift to the few you let into your very eccentric world, which I would wager is small, because I have a feeling you don’t trust easily.”
I eyed her with suspicion. “My mom told you to say that.”
“No,” she chuckled. “It’s written in your aura.”
“I have an aura? That can’t be good.”
Geneva laughed.
“So… my problem is I don’t trust anyone?”
“Benjamin, your problem— if you want to call it that—might be that you simply don’t trust yourself .”
I stared at her. “Really? ”
“And that has been known to interfere with one’s capacity to experience joy. Which is a shame.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You know that joy is your birthright, don’t you?” She winked.
“I didn’t. No.” Ivy’s grandmother was a little out there, but my pathetic self drank in her words. I laughed nervously. “It’s like you’ve known me for years.”
“Not me…” she said. “The Universe…”
“Hmm.” I thought she was finished, so when she wouldn’t let go of my hand, it alarmed me a little.
“There is a worry in your family,” she declared. “Can I ask?”
I looked at her, confused.
“Forgive me, but I felt it at dinner undeniably, just a glimpse. But it seemed imprudent to mention it in the midst of all the loveliness.”
I was taken aback by her insight. “Oh. Well…um.”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry, dear boy—though it is my particular gift: prying.”
I stared at her staring at me. It was as though she could see what I wasn’t saying. “It’s…it’s my sister.”
“Mia?”
“No, no. Camille. She’s my older sister. She’s…she’s in a bad situation, and we’re all just…we’re all worried about her. That’s probably what you felt.”
“She’s married?”
I nodded. “To a jerk.”
“Oh my. Is he…unkind to her?”
“He’s awful.”
“Goodness.” Geneva let go of my hand to touch her throat. “Are there children?”
I nodded again. “Two little girls. Right in the middle of it.”
“Oh, that is a worry. And they fight? Your sister and her husband?”
“About everything .” I grimaced. “He’s very controlling. He’s obsessed about his health, and insanely critical that Camille’s not. He harps on her about what she eats, what she feeds the kids, where she goes, who she talks to. He’s a nightmare, an absolute nightmare.”
“Oh…” Geneva moaned. “That is no way to live. I’m so very sorry. I wish I had more time to help.”
“What? What do you mean? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m here, of course.”
To my continued confusion, I suppose, she said: “Benjamin, the Universe often answers life’s injustice by placing those in need in the path of those in a position to help. Surely this makes sense to you.” She shook her head, distracted. “But we’re here for such a short time, I’m just not—”
We were interrupted then by everyone stepping back into the kitchen at that moment. Ivy and her Mom walked in, arms linked, grinning, and whatever worries I’d had about Ivy’s conversation with her parents seemed suddenly quite overblown—the annoyance on Daniel’s face notwithstanding. Mom was chattering about a candy shop not to be missed on Ocean Avenue, and Mia seemed to know just the one she was referring to. So did Dad.
“What’s going on?” I said feeling decidedly left out.
“Oh, nothing, Bo,” Mia said with teasing in her eyes. “The girls are just headed to Carmel for a for a couple of days, so you finally get the house to yourself.”