chapter 22
Lilly spent the next several days thinking about what Sloane had said at the beach club about going to live with Steve. She
imagined waking up in her old room, with the frilly curtains Steve’s mom had put up that were much too young for her—not that
she would ever be ungrateful enough to point that out—and having Old Blue waiting on the porch for her. She imagined the smell
of bacon wafting through the house and having Steve call out that it was time for breakfast—and once she’d eaten, having him
tell her that she needed to hurry and get ready so she wouldn’t be late for school. When she’d lived with him before, he’d
packed her lunches and sent her off to the bus stop each day; in some ways, it would feel normal. The farm would also be a
quiet, steady-as-morning-chores life. Just what she’d always craved.
But then she imagined not having her mother there with her. While that would be a good thing in some ways—there’d be no more
fights or the feeling that she couldn’t get too comfortable because it wouldn’t last—would she truly fit in? Did she belong at the farm the way Old Blue did? If not, could she belong there? Or would it be too weird to be raised by someone who was no relation to her? A single guy.
Could Steve ever really love her like a daughter?
She had no ongoing relationship with any of her mom’s other boyfriends. He was the only one who’d actually tried to be a stepfather.
But she hadn’t had a great deal of time with him. Her mother had started acting out after only a few months. And Lilly didn’t
want to be a burden on him just because he was nice enough to take her in.
She wanted someone to love her.
No, that wasn’t enough, she decided. She wanted to be wanted. That was what she’d always craved. Her mother had loved her, but she’d also used her to pick up the pieces each time her
life fell apart.
“You’re quiet today,” Sloane commented.
Lilly breathed deeply, smelling sun-warmed asphalt as they walked to the small family-owned grocery store they visited when
they needed to get a few ingredients for dinner. Sloane had started teaching Lilly how to cook, which was something she really
enjoyed. She’d made a lot of meals when her mom was alive—she’d had to if she wanted to eat—but it wasn’t the same. That was
mostly packaged stuff, a sandwich or a can of soup. Sloane said that wasn’t cooking. She was showing Lilly how to make her own spaghetti and pasta sauces, bake her own bread and make polenta, tiramisu, even
a chocolate cake with strawberry-and-cream layers. Mostly, they cooked Italian. Sloane said she wanted to remain “fully immersed”
in the Italian experience while they were here.
Besides, it was easy to get just the right ingredients, and Lilly loved helping her choose the menu.
Tonight they were going to make an artichoke dip, then some grilled garlic shrimp and follow that up with lemon pasta.
Lilly could already taste the hit of zest and the buttery slide of noodles.
Fortunately, she liked lemon stuff because it was everywhere on the Amalfi Coast, and Sloane was really excited about it, too, so she always suggested it for meals.
“I’m just thinking about dinner,” Lilly commented, even though that wasn’t really true.
“Dinner takes that much concentration?” Sloane glanced back with a smile that said she was only teasing.
“I guess not,” she admitted, but she wasn’t about to volunteer that she was thinking about Steve or the farm, so she said,
“I’ve been wondering whether Charlotte will be able to finish her book on time.”
“Maybe not on time, but she should be close. Seems like it’s going well so far.”
“What happens if her editor doesn’t like it?”
They made their way up a set of stairs and shifted left to start another flight. “That wouldn’t be good.”
“Her career would be over?”
“Maybe they’d pull the book from the production schedule to give her time to change it. I’m not sure.”
“I know she’s been worried.”
Sloane waited for Lilly to catch up with her. The walkways weren’t wide enough for them to remain side by side for the whole
journey, not if someone was coming from the opposite direction, so Lilly generally trailed behind to allow room for others.
“Listen to me, Lilly. You don’t have to worry about adult problems anymore, okay? Like I’ve told you before, Charlotte is
smart and reliable. She’ll be fine.”
She was saying that Charlotte wasn’t Sabrina.
Only she was doing it nicely. And Lilly was grateful.
It was so easy to get caught up in the kind of sick-to-her-stomach worrying she’d done most of her life.
In some ways, she’d had less of that since Sloane, Julian and Charlotte had entered her life.
Now she had three capable adults looking out for her, the world seemed a lot safer.
But their time in Italy was almost over. What would happen then? Would she no longer be safe? She had no real assurances,
and that made each day feel like she was taking one more step toward some terrible end.
Lilly slung the cute hobo-style bag Charlotte had bought her last night across her body to shift the weight of it. “Do you
think she’ll go back to Cliff?”
“God, I hope not.”
Lilly knew Charlotte hadn’t been responding to him. She’d heard her say as much. But she also knew he’d been trying harder
and harder to get her back. He’d reached out to Sloane, even though Sloane said they’d never gotten along. She said Cliff
was too possessive of Charlotte, that he’d tried to separate her from all the other people in her life who loved her, and
that made Lilly wonder what would happen if Charlotte went back to him. She didn’t want to lose contact with her sister. She
was really starting to like Charlotte. And Charlotte was her only family. Cliff had enough people, possessions and attention.
He didn’t need Charlotte, too. Did he?
“But . . . what are the chances?” She wanted something to be certain for a change.
Sloane’s answer proved, once again, that nothing was certain in life. “To be honest, I couldn’t even put a number on it,” she said. “Let’s just be glad she’s focused on being
here with us and getting her book done. It’s giving her some time away from him—time to see that she’s better off without
him,” she added emphatically.
“You’re saying the real test will come once we get home.”
Sloane cast her a rueful glance, but continued walking. “That’s the bottom line, I guess.”
Lilly had searched the internet to learn everything she possibly could about Cliff.
He was famous enough that there was a lot to sort through.
Tons of pictures showed how handsome he was.
And from his interviews, he seemed like a fun guy.
He was certainly good at basketball. But Sloane didn’t like him.
Neither did Charlotte’s parents, from what Lilly had been able to tell.
She’d spoken to them a few times on the phone.
They were starting to call regularly—and ask to talk to her after they’d spoken with Charlotte.
Charlotte’s mother sounded like the kind of grandma who’d bake cookies and go all out for Christmas—nothing like the tired
and frustrated person who’d been her real grandma. Charlotte’s dad sounded patient and kind and sort of indulgent toward the
women in his life. Lilly liked how he’d just chuckle whenever Charlotte and Penny got carried away with an idea.
“What would Charlotte’s parents do if she went back to him?” Lilly asked. “Would they put a stop to it?”
“They probably wouldn’t say anything. It’s Charlotte’s decision, right?”
“I guess.” Disheartened, she walked a bit slower—and stopped briefly to run a finger over the blue ceramic octopus tile embedded
in the wall. No one had ever been able to tell Sabrina what to do, either. That was part of the reason she’d never gotten
along with her parents. “What about Julian?” She and Sloane were together so much these days that they talked all the time, but this conversation
went a little deeper than others, making Lilly feel as though she was stepping onto thin ice.
“What about him?” Sloane asked, pausing to wait for her.
“He’d be the most upset if she went back to Cliff.”
At this, Sloane retraced a few of her steps. “Why? You mean because Cliff doesn’t treat Charlotte like he should?”
“I mean because . . . because Julian likes her himself, doesn’t he?”
“Not in that way,” Sloane said. “We all grew up together. It’s not romantic.”
Lilly didn’t say anything when they started walking again, but that wasn’t the impression she’d gotten. The way Julian looked
at Charlotte, especially when she wasn’t paying attention, was more like . . . like he cared about her in a completely romantic way. And Sloane didn’t like Cliff, but Julian took that to a whole other level. He wasn’t only protective of Charlotte;
he was jealous of Cliff.
Or was she wrong about that? She’d spent her whole life trying to read the various men her mother had been with. She’d had
to—to get some idea of what was coming. She could always tell when her mother’s latest boyfriend was angry, frustrated, happy
or even when he lost interest.
But maybe Julian was different . . .
“Have you heard if Ben will be able to get enough days off to come over?” she asked, changing the subject. She’d also spoken
to Ben and really liked him. He was similar to Julian, only not quite as funny.
“The pharmacy’s too busy this time of year, and he doesn’t have the vacation days. We have only ten days left, so there’s
not really time to arrange it anyway.”
“That’s a bummer.”
“Yeah. He’d really like to meet you.”
“I’d like to meet him, too.”
“Maybe we can have you over when we get back,” she said as they reached the street where the store was located.
“You mean if I’m not in Cherokee?”
“A minute ago, you didn’t sound totally convinced you wanted to live with Steve. Have you changed your mind?”