Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Later that evening, after Emmy had spent time with her dad at the hospital, they’d done his end of the genetic testing, and she’d mailed the box off on the way home, they settled in at Madison’s.
Charlie was playing cards with Jack in the family room, and Emmy and her sister were chopping vegetables for dinner when Emmy’s phone pinged with a text.
She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and checked it. Her stomach did a little lurch. “It’s Mitch. He wants to know how things are going.”
Madison’s eyebrows raised.
“I think I might want to call him instead of texting.”
“What are you going to say?” her sister asked.
“Only what I know—that Mom was engaged to him. I’d love to hear his side of things. He’s the only one who knows what really happened.”
Madison shooed her off. “Go. I can man this fort. And Aunt Elsie and Aunt Charlotte will be here soon.”
Emmy nodded.
She went upstairs, ready to talk to Mitch. Without the distraction of work, she hoped he would say something to help her learn more. Her mother had trials over the years, and she’d managed with grace. Emmy could only hope she could do the same.
She hit “call” and put the phone to her ear, her fingers trembling.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hi, Mitch.”
“How’s your dad?” he asked.
“He’s actually doing great. He was downgraded from ICU to a regular room, so we couldn’t be happier.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“I know. He even participated in our family Christmas gift exchange via video chat. I couldn’t believe it.”
“It sounds like it’s turning out to be a wonderful trip. You deserve it.”
“It has been, thank you. Speaking of wonderful, I got one of Mom’s design scrapbooks when I arrived.”
“Oh, really?”
Nervous energy zinged through her. She took a deep breath. “She wrote notes in this one.”
“She did?”
“Mm-hm. And she had a rainy photo of Rue des Lumières d’Automne.”
He was silent. Emmy swallowed against a dry mouth.
“I know you two were engaged,” she finally said. When he didn’t respond, she added, “I’d love to hear about it.”
“It doesn’t feel right to tell you,” he said. “She never told you. That gave me the impression that she didn’t want to share that part of her life.”
“Maybe she was afraid to tell me or my sister. Afraid of what we’d think. But I’m not here to criticize anyone. I just want to know that side of my mom, a side that seems most like me but is a mystery.”
He let out a nervous cough. Was there even more behind that nervousness? She wouldn’t know today. One thing at a time.
“Really, Mitch. I’d love to hear what happened. No judgment.”
“I was her mentor, so we spent long hours together. She made me laugh, and she was so open and positive—I’d never met anyone like her.
The chemistry was pretty clear from the beginning.
Anne didn’t grow up the way I did, and I found her complete disregard for material things, despite her career choice in fashion, to be incredibly attractive.
I bought her the clutch you had the day you walked into my office, and I put a note inside for her to meet me at Rue des Lumières d’Automne. ”
“I have the note. It was still in the purse,” Emmy said, breathless.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She’d kept it all these years.”
“Unbelievable. I can’t believe she still had it…”
“What’s the significance of Rue des Lumières d’Automne?”
“Nothing at all. That’s just it. She and I used to talk about what we wanted in a proposal. I’d suggested that, when the time came, I might do something grand, and she said, ‘I wouldn’t want anything at all. Nothing should compete with the love of my life saying he wants to spend forever with me.’”
Affection for her mother ballooned inside her. “That sounds like Mom.”
He huffed out a chuckle. “Rue des Lumières d’Automne was a side street near Baudelaire’s. I told her later that if she wasn’t going to let me do something big, I was at least going to choose the street with the longest name.”
Emmy laughed, the story warming her.
“I also waited for the rain because who doesn’t want to be kissed in the rain?”
“Spoken like a true romantic.”
“I was a romantic for her.”
“So, what happened?” Emmy asked.
“For that full story, you’ll need to ask Vivienne Moreau.
She was your mom’s best friend back then.
But I can tell you my side: One day, I came into the studio at Baudelaire’s to find the wedding dress she’d been designing, along with a note that said she was so sorry, but she couldn’t marry me.
And just like that, she was gone. She’d left Baudelaire’s and never returned. ”
“And you let her go?”
“My entire life, my parents made me believe that because I didn’t follow in their footsteps, I was somehow not worth anything.
The whole time I was falling for your mom, deep down, I couldn’t believe she wanted to be with someone like me, so after she left, for about a year, I believed that she was better off.
But as I began to lean into who I was as a designer, I became surer of myself.
A few years later, I tracked her down through Vivienne and told her how much I still loved her, but by that time, she was married to your dad and she had you. ”
“And you never moved on?” she asked.
“I tried, but your mom was pretty tough to top.”
“That’s the truth,” she said.
“But in all reality, I threw myself into my work, and then I got so busy that I didn’t think about my personal life anymore.
Now, looking back, I wish I had. Because I have all these designs attributed to me, but there isn’t anyone rushing home to me.
No one by my side. Your dad’s a lucky man—in many ways. ”
“I promise to come to your side,” she said.
He let out a satisfied exhale. “You’re a lot like your mom.”
“Yeah. I am.”
This time, she was actually glad to be compared to her mother.
After she’d ended the call, a knock at the door drew her attention. Charlie was leaning against the doorframe.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Much better than I thought it would.”
“You’ll have to tell me everything.” He stepped into the room.
“I’d love to. Maybe we can go out for a drink after dinner or something, and you can hear all about it.”
“Ah, yes, but not tonight.”
“Okay…” she said, confused by his quick response.
“Let me show you why. Get your boots.” He grabbed her coat off the chair and handed it to her.
“What are we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
They went downstairs, and he opened the front door.
He flicked the outside light on, and they stepped into the frigid cold.
Snow fell all around them like feathers—giant flakes floating on the wind.
An inch had fallen already. He scooped up a handful and held it under the yellow porch light, the flakes glittering, then he tossed it into the air, the sparkles raining down on them like pixie dust. He grabbed her hands and ran out into the front yard, spinning her around.
She laughed as her boots crunched against the powdery snow. “I didn’t think we’d get a white Christmas. I can’t believe it.”
He stopped and looked down at her with fondness in his eyes. “Maybe it’s all for you—from your mom.”
She had to wonder if her mom had a hand in all this. It would be her style to add a snowstorm just to make her family happy.