Chapter 19
Burbank Airport
Well, how was it, dearie?” Rosaline greets me with enthusiasm that could only be the product of far too many cups of caramel-laced coffee. “I should think visiting your father’s homeland was a thrill.” She escorts me to our little table where a fresh cup is waiting for me.
How many cups have I had in this timeline, and should I be concerned about caffeine poisoning? I don’t feel jittery, though, and my pulse seems normal, so I indulge in a few sips.
“I’m happy I went.” Noncommittal and true. “I’m pretty sure I was right to choose Boston over The Mesmerist in my original timeline, but I still wish I’d had time in Copenhagen before I went back stateside. Does that make any sense?”
“A lot of sense. And now you’ve had the chance to see what that decision would have brought, dearie. And I hope there were things of use to you there?”
I no longer have to wonder what that life might have looked like, which is the most incredible sort of cosmic gift, but she must know this. I consider a more concrete answer. “I met a general manager who made me realize I was far better at that job than I gave myself credit for. That’s something.”
“More than a little something if you ask me. You’ve rarely given yourself the credit you deserve.” She reaches over and pats my hand affectionately. “I’m glad to hear you speak well of your own skills.”
I squeeze her hand in return but laugh at her praise. “He set a pretty low bar. ‘Avoid bullying junior staff’ is just basic decency.”
She rolls her eyes a bit at the thought of Madsen’s antics. “That seems to be a lesson many in the upper tiers of the kitchen hierarchy haven’t learned. Yet here you are, with twenty or more working years ahead of you, with that lesson etched on your heart. I’d say it’s reason enough to be proud.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
She gives an authoritative nod. “I would put it that way. I’m glad you put your time to good use.”
I don’t tell her how much use. My last few hours with Nikolai at the beach, solving all the woes in the culinary world into the wee smalls. Holding each other close, knowing our time together was short. A goodbye at the airport that was more tearful than I’d expected.
And there was all my dad’s history I’d gleaned from chatting with Oskar and Yrse. I’d only known them for hours, but I would miss them all dearly. All of it felt like fundamental bricks in the foundation of my life that had been missing.
And they still are.
I didn’t make the choices Copenhagen Sabrina did, so my life is going to have different consequences.
Rosaline calls me back to the present. “A penny for your thoughts, love?”
I begin to offer up a glib quip about them not being worth nearly so much but think of something more prescient to ask. “Am I actually changing my history with all this, or am I just immersed in an interactive display of the blooper reels of my life?”
Rosaline chuckles, but her tone invokes some gravitas.
“I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to claim I understand how all this”—she gestures vaguely toward the Jetway—“works. But I will tell you that while I do believe there is an optimal destination for each of us, the path there is never ever a straight line. And mistakes don’t exist. Not in matters like these. ”
I wish I were fully convinced she’s right, but a persistent weight presses on my heart and causes a throbbing at my temples the more I try to contemplate it.
“It seems like going to Boston immediately after London was a mistake. But so was Copenhagen, at least professionally. How can both paths be wrong?”
“Nothing simpler, sweet girl. Sometimes you’re meant to take a wrong turn.
Now when a person makes a whole string of them right in a row, I begin to fret, sure.
But if you listen to the most successful people in the world—presidents and prime ministers, artists and inventors—not one of them will say they never took a misstep in the whole course of their lives.
Often those driven to do great things make the most spectacular messes, to own the truth.
And it’s often while wading through that ‘dark moment of the soul,’ praying for a sliver of light, that they find their greatness. ”
“That makes a lot of sense,” I admit. “I just don’t know what it means for me.”
“You’ll figure it out. Now tell old Rosaline.
What would you say has been your ‘dark moment of the soul’ thus far?
I know you want to say the death of your father, but that was something that happened to you.
It impacted you, but it was entirely out of your control.
What I want you to do is think of a hard moment over which you had more agency. ”
I understand the distinction. Nothing has affected me more in my life than my father’s death, but I had been a passive participant in it. I’d been three thousand miles away and not even aware he was gone until it was too late.
I reflect a few moments more and finally say, “Probably when I was let go from Maison Ortense.”
She nods in sympathy. “Ah, that has been hard on you, hasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t fair.” I hope I don’t sound like a petulant teenager, but at the moment, that’s exactly how I feel.
“No, dearie, it wasn’t. And if it were in my power to make it right, I would. But fortunately, you do have that power. And the opportunity to use it, thanks to me.” She nudges me with an elbow.
“Let’s do it.” I feel a surge of adrenaline. I’ve thought about all the things I could do differently on repeat since I left . . . It has only been a couple of weeks since I left, yet it feels like a lifetime.
Rosaline leans closer. “Might I offer you a bit of advice?”
This is the first time she’s offered, so I nod enthusiastically.
She takes my hand in hers. “Trust your gut. You have it in you, but you have to believe in the talents you’ve worked so hard to cultivate. Promise me you won’t be afraid to shake things up.”
I nod again, determined. “I promise. I want Joelle to get her star. On my watch.”
She smiles brightly. “Well then, Sabrina Fair, go chase the stars.”