Epilogue
One year later
I stare at the photo, and just like that, I’m seventeen.
I hear them across the bay. For a moment, I’m lost in the golden glow of a summer long ago. The laughter of three teenagers. The rumble of a familiar motor. A camera between my hands.
And then I feel him standing beside me—his warmth, his smell, the hand that settles on my lower back. I saw him across the room earlier tonight, but we haven’t had a chance to speak. He looked as proud and puffed up as a peacock. I was in the middle of a conversation with a collector, and he raised his glass, tossed me a wink, and mouthed, Later .
“I’ve been waiting to corner you,” Charlie says now. “You’re a very popular woman this evening.”
I tilt my head and find a pair of gleaming green eyes. “I can’t believe how many people are here,” I say. The space is packed, the music barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
“I can,” Charlie says. A hand skims down my arm, and his fingers knit through mine. “I’ve never believed in fate. But it’s hard to argue with this.”
We turn and study the three teenage faces in front of us. Charlie, Sam, and Percy in the yellow boat. My name on the wall beside them.
I’ve spent time at Elyse’s gallery during the show’s installation, but walking into the space earlier this evening, when it was still empty, surrounded by my photos, affected me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I was glad I came alone, that I’d asked Charlie and my family to wait until the crowd began to arrive. I sat on the floor in the middle of the exhibition, soaking it in.
There are twelve large-format photographs in Alice Everly: Seen . In one, Nan and John sit on a bench in the backyard of his home in Ottawa. It’s called Reunion . In Unstuck , my mother tromps through rows of grapes in muddy galoshes, her cheeks a windswept pink. There’s one of Percy, pregnant, in her orange bikini, pouring a cup of coffee, morning sunlight streaming in through the window. I named it Coming Soon. And then there’s Falling— the photo of Charlie I developed in his high school darkroom last summer. One Golden Summer hangs in the back corner.
“A lot of people can’t stand their early work, but I still love it,” I say to Charlie now. “It feels timeless.”
Charlies leans toward my ear. “That’s just my good looks.” I snort, and he adds, “And your exceptional talent.”
He plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “I know we’re here celebrating your work, but I think it’s important we also celebrate those pants.” His gaze drops down my body, bottom lip between his teeth, and I laugh.
I didn’t straighten my hair but am otherwise dressed in all my armor—glasses, red lipstick, chunky heels, a black silk blouse—but I’m also wearing a pair of leather trousers the old Alice wouldn’t have dared to pull off. Charlie had me up against the door when I tried them on for him.
“At the risk of swelling your ego to an unbearable degree,” I say to him, “I’m not sure remarkable quite covers how you look tonight.”
Charlie also bought a new outfit. A charcoal herringbone jacket and pants with a snug cream cashmere turtleneck underneath. He looks as hot as he thinks he does.
I run my hand over the lapel. “I love this.”
“Yeah? More than the suit and tie?” Charlie’s city uniform has changed since quitting his job in the spring. He joined a prestigious foundation that raises money for heart disease research as CFO a few weeks ago.
“I do love the suit and tie,” I tell him. “But this isn’t as stiff. You seem more like yourself.”
Charlie’s surgery was only a year ago, but it’s hard to remember him as anything less than healthy and happy and light. Every room he enters glows with his warmth and ease.
Not that it surprises me. I fall more in love with Charlie with every joke, every laugh, every evening he leaves me alone to go to choir practice with Nan, every morning he struts around the apartment with his shirt off, every kiss I press to the scar that runs down the center of his chest.
I moved into his place— our place—in the spring just as he gave his notice. Charlie took the summer off to decide what he wanted to do next and to work on John’s cottage. We still call it that, though it’s ours now. Percy and Sam insisted there was enough space at the house after Susie’s arrival, but that’s not why Charlie bought it. He wanted a new beginning, a cottage to fill with memories of our own. I spent the summer traveling between Barry’s Bay and the city. I hung out with Percy and Susie, while Sam and Charlie attempted to update the cottage kitchen. They called Harrison for backup after the first weekend. It’s a major improvement, though the curtains Nan and I sewed remain.
“You’ve made Charlie the best version of himself,” Sam said to me one of those weekends. We were sitting on the dock with Percy, while Charlie was in the water beside us, taking Susie for a swim. She has both her father and uncle wrapped around her finger.
“He was always this version,” I told Sam.
He was just waiting for someone to see and love him for who he really is, same as I had been. We’re opposites in so many ways, but underneath, we’re so alike.
We watched Charlie swirl Susie’s chubby legs in the water, and then Percy turned to me. “This might sound weird,” she said, and Sam started to chuckle. She glared at her husband before turning back to me. “But I had this feeling that things weren’t complete until you showed up. It’s like you were always meant to be here, Alice.”
At that, Charlie’s eyes swung to mine. “That’s because she was.”
We brought Nan back to the lake with us, too. She spent a week with Charlie and me, more cheerful and agile than the previous summer. Her hip is better than it was before the surgery. She was at the cottage to witness the biggest argument of our relationship thus far: I want to paint the wood walls white, and Charlie is adamantly opposed. We were in the kitchen, washing dishes, both of us in bathing suits, me with dish gloves on, and what started as a conversation became a full-out battle that was only broken up by Nan laugh-crying from her armchair.
“John and Joyce used to have this debate every summer,” she said when we joined her in the living room. “It’s nice,” she said, “that so much has changed, but so little has, too.”
I loop my hands around Charlie’s neck now, barely aware that I’m in a room full of friends and family and colleagues. He sets his hands on my hips.
“Have you looked at it yet?” I ask.
“I have.”
I took the final portrait in the show just one month ago. I sat on a stool in my studio. No makeup. No sleek ponytail. No clothes. I stared into the lens and took my own photo. The plaque hanging beside it reads:
I hate having my photo taken. But as I began to assemble images for this show, I was inspired by the courage of my subjects. I decided it wasn’t fair of me to ask for their vulnerability without confronting my own. It’s one of the most terrifying things we all do—allow people to see us without all our protective layers.
It’s the only photograph I didn’t show Charlie before tonight.
“What do you think?” I ask him now.
Charlie’s cheeks have turned pink, and I’m suddenly worried I’ve gone too far. It takes him a moment to answer.
“It’s beautiful, Alice,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. He kisses my cheek. “The photo. You. The entire show. The way you throw yourself into everything you do.”
Before he’s finished speaking, I pull him tight to me and he whispers, “I love you,” in my ear.
“It’s almost time,” I say, releasing him.
“Are you ready?”
I look around the room, and then Elyse raises her hand, ushering me over. I take a breath. “Yes.”
“Because if you’re still nervous, I can strip right down. Save you from having to imagine it.”
“I know you would,” I tell him. “But I’ll be okay.”
He squeezes my hand. “You’ll be brilliant, Alice Everly.”
I stand at the front of the room, listening to Elyse’s opening remarks. When I take the microphone, I scan the faces staring back at me. Heather and Bennett and Mom. Nan and my father. Luca and Lavinia. Sam, Percy, and Susie. My friends. So many people I’ve worked with over the years. But there are also collectors and journalists and people I don’t recognize. My throat begins to close. I’m cold with nerves.
And then I find Charlie. He’s off to the side, and from where I’m standing, One Golden Summer hangs in the background over his shoulder.
I love you , he mouths to me.
I look into those extraordinary green eyes. And then I begin to speak.