Chapter Five
Chapter
Five
April wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through this summer with Daphne fucking Love as her cabinmate and colleague, but she did know that this champagne was helping.
The next evening, the Cloverwild lobby was packed, the opening party in full swing.
Guests from all over the country filled the room wearing their summer best—halter dresses baring shoulders and backs, myriad variations of Nantucket Reds, hair freshly highlighted and blown out.
The front doors were thrown open, guests coming and going between the lodge and the stone walkway that led to the firepit, boathouse, and lake.
Canoes were available for twilit rides through the water.
It was quite the event, laughter and jazz music floating through the room like bubbles.
April stood alone near the expansive windows in the Cloverwild lobby, dressed in wide-legged dark green pants, heeled boots, and a short-sleeve mesh black top that revealed her black bra and tattoos underneath.
She sipped on her second glass of champagne and wondered how long she was required to stay.
Then again, the only thing waiting for her in her cabin was a doe-eyed Tennessean and traitorous cats.
She and Daphne had spent most of today in the art studio, putting together slide presentations for their upcoming classes.
April was loath to admit that Daphne knew her stuff and was even excited to dabble in watercolors herself.
Still, April couldn’t seem to put away her scorpion’s tail when it came to Daphne.
April sighed and took another bubbly gulp of her drink, finishing it off and setting the empty glass on a nearby table. She was just about to seek out another when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
Ramona.
“Hey,” April said after scrambling to slide her finger over her screen. She’d texted Ramona yesterday about Daphne’s presence in Clover Lake, the cosmic insanity of it all, but hadn’t heard back yet. At the sound of Ramona’s voice now, April’s chest felt lighter, airier.
“Apes, hey, sorry,” Ramona said. “I just remembered you’re at the Cloverwild party.”
“It’s boring as fuck,” April said, leaning her hip against the window. “Did you just get home from work?”
“Yeah, thank god. But we’re leaving for this movie premiere in twenty minutes.”
“Fancy,” April said.
Ramona laughed. “We’re exhausted.”
April nodded even though Ramona couldn’t see her.
Always the royal we these days. April remembered when she and Ramona were the we.
Of course, she was happy for her best friend—wouldn’t want Ramona to have any less than everything she wanted—but she was learning that being happy for her friend sometimes came with loneliness for herself.
And she hated it.
“Did you see my texts?” she asked.
“Oh, I…” Ramona trailed off, and April imagined her pulling back to check her phone. There was a pause, then a softly uttered “Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” April said.
“Wait, wait. Your teaching partner is Daphne Love.”
“In the flesh.”
“The Daphne Love?”
“The one and only.” April snagged one of the bite-sized appetizers from a tray the servers carried through the room, a crab cake topped with Old Bay mayo, and popped it in her mouth. “And she’s a mess,” she said around the food.
“I bet she’s terrified of you,” Ramona said. “How did she react?”
April swallowed. “She didn’t.”
“She…didn’t?”
“No clue who I am.”
Ramona blew out a breath so strong it buzzed in April’s ear. “Apes.”
“It’s fine,” April said, but her throat thickened, the knowledge that Elena hadn’t even bothered to tell Daphne about her hitting all over again. “Anyway, how are you?”
“Wait, Apes,” Ramona said softly.
Too softly.
She thought she wanted that—Ramona’s tenderness and caring, her empathy—but suddenly, her gentle, oh honey kind of tone was making April feel the opposite of comforted.
She felt exposed.
Silly and strange and alone.
“This is a big deal,” Ramona said.
April didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.
Ramona didn’t know just how big of a deal everything was in her life right now.
April hadn’t been very forthcoming about Wonderlust, about her mortgage struggles, renting out her house.
And she definitely hadn’t told Ramona about living at Cloverwild with Daphne.
Ramona thought she’d simply taken a fun summer job and that Mac was handling things at the shop.
The truth was embarrassing, for one—April Evans, business entrepreneur and failure.
Of course, she’d tell Ramona everything eventually, but on the phone while her heart felt like a tender piece of meat stuck in her chest at a ritzy party was not the moment.
“I’ll live,” April said, wanting to shut down the conversation as soon as possible. “Plus, I think you’re right. She seems terrified of me.”
Ramona exhaled. “You’re not being very nice, are you?”
April felt herself flinch. “Should I be?”
“Well…I don’t know. I’m just saying, you don’t know her situation. Are her and Elena even together?”
“Of course they are.”
“Then why is she at Cloverwild? Why is she a mess, as you say?”
Goddamn Libras. April’s head swam with all Ramona’s balanced logic. She loved her best friend. Would lie down on a train track for her. But sometimes, she swore to the goddess, she simply wanted Ramona to lose her shit along with her.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” April said. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” Ramona said. “Always yours. I just think…she’s one of us. She’s queer, she’s an artist.”
“So was Elena.”
“I know, but she’s not Elena. And it’s been three years. There’s no need to hate her so vehemently without knowing all the facts first.”
“And if I get the facts, am I allowed to hate her then, Mom?”
Silence on the other end.
April closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ramona said. “I know this is hard.”
“I said I’ll live.”
“No, I mean…” Ramona trailed off for a second. “I miss you, Apes.”
April’s eyes stung, her throat achy and tight. “I miss you too.”
In the background, April heard Dylan say something.
“Listen,” Ramona said, sighing. “I—”
“You’ve got to go,” April said.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve got a life. So do I.”
This last part was a stretch; April’s life was practically in shambles, but she didn’t want Ramona to worry.
“Have fun at the premiere,” she said, and then ended the call once Ramona said a far-too-gentle goodbye.
April dropped her phone into her pocket, the party spinning all around her, everyone so beautiful and smiling.
She turned to face the large window, the lake’s wide swath outside, and her shoulders relaxed.
She’d always loved the water, loved the simple sight of it, its constancy and easy beauty.
“April?”
April glanced to her side, where a woman had stepped up next to her.
She was in her midforties and beautiful, with dark brown skin and dark curls that spiraled past her shoulders.
She wore a white keyhole cocktail dress that fell past her knees, her bare arms glowing under the amber lights.
She held two sparkling glasses of champagne.
“I thought that was you,” she said, a London accent curling around her words as she held out one of the glasses.
April tilted her head, but recognition came almost immediately—a hot August day four years ago, a sketch of weeds and wildflowers surrounding a rough wooden door opening into a dark space.
“Nicola,” she said, taking the proffered glass and then flicking her eyes to Nicola’s left thigh, where April had inked the piece onto her skin, even though it was now covered by her dress. “The wild unknown.”
“You remember?” Nicola said. “I’m impressed.”
April laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I mostly just remember my work.”
Nicola nodded. “Which means you put a lot of care into it. I like that. I remember that. Your shop was quite an experience. I’ve never forgotten it.”
April smiled but felt a pang of loss along with the flare of pride in her chest. “I’m sorry to say I had to close it.”
She said it quickly—the first time she’d uttered those words out loud.
Nicola’s expression fell.
April nodded and took a sip of champagne. She wasn’t sure what else to say, but she braced for the inevitable what’s next question. A terrifying, soul-sucking inquiry.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Nicola said, “but the timing might be fortuitous.”
April narrowed her eyes. “How so?”
“I’m at Cloverwild off and on during the summer while my husband finishes writing his dissertation,” Nicola said, taking a delicate sip of her own drink. “I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you in person tonight. And here you are.”
April lifted her brows, waiting for the why of it all.
Nicola pursed her mouth, smiling at April, and April got the distinct feeling that she was intentionally building drama.
“I’m putting together an exhibition at the Devon.”
April’s eyes widened. “The Devon.”
Nicola’s smile spread like the Cheshire cat’s. “The Devon.”
A good reason for all the drama, then. The Devon was a world-renowned museum in London.
It housed a regular collection of art by now-famous contemporary artists as well as showcasing new talent on the regular, mostly from marginalized artists.
It was known for art that pushed boundaries, challenged systems of power, spun well-known stories in a different light.
April remembered learning about the Devon at RISD during her modern art class, as well as experiencing intense jealousy when a classmate had landed a fellowship there after graduation.
Everyone who even moderately dabbled in visual art had heard of the Devon.
“You’re a curator at the Devon?” April asked.
“I am.”
“Now I’m the one who’s impressed,” April said.
Nicola didn’t deny the clout that came along with her position, which April sort of loved about her. She simply continued to smile—no teeth, small mouthed—and took another sip of her champagne.
“I’m looking for one more artist,” she said after swallowing.