36. Violet
thirty-six
Violet
DAY 74 AT SILVER LEAF... ONLY 12 TO GO
The next morning, I tell Chord I’m meeting Dad at his cabin instead of the house for our morning coffee, but it’s a little white lie. Instead, I leave early enough to get to Dad just before he walks out, knocking on his door as he’s tugging on his boots.
He opens the door and greets me with surprise. “What are you doing here, Blossom?”
I shrug. “I woke early and felt like taking a walk. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Come on in, and I’ll make you breakfast.”
I follow him down the short, narrow hallway of his cabin and give the place a quick scan. The accommodations at Silver Leaf are clean, neat, and well-maintained—white-clad cabins with timber floors, white-washed walls, functional kitchenettes, and compact European laundry closets. Half of them have a single bedroom, like this one. The others have two. All have modest but full-size bathrooms and small patios that overlook the green vineyards here and the purple mountains beyond.
I take a seat at the small dining table while Dad fusses at the coffee machine. I’ve been here twice before, but there’s something different about the cabin today. I can’t point out any one thing that changes the vibe—maybe it’s the way Dad moves around the place, his shoes near the front door and a jacket hanging from the back of the armchair, the groceries stacked in the open kitchen cupboard—but it feels warmer somehow. Lived in.
Dad joins me with two steaming mugs, and I take a careful sip. He mirrors me, his eyes watching me over the rim of his cup, then following my hands as I set my coffee down and trap them between my bouncing knees.
He lowers his coffee to the table, and… there it is. The spill it look.
“I have some news,” I say, even as I’m silently screaming at myself to leave my father out of this. If I’m going to accept Chord’s studio here and not go to Milan, then Dad doesn’t need to know about the job offer. But the thing is, I desperately need to tell him. I need someone to tell me that by turning it down, I’m doing the right thing. And I need Dad to know the truth.
His brow furrows. “I take it by the look on your face that it isn’t good?”
“What?” I try to smile. “No, it’s good. It’s great. It’s… It’s wonderful.” I can’t keep up the act, weak as it is, and I slump with a sigh. “It’s complicated.”
The lines on his forehead get deeper. “Violet. What’s going on?”
“Chord showed me the studio in San Francisco yesterday.”
Dad brightens. “He did? That’s fantastic. I’ve been sitting on that secret for weeks, and I hate keeping things from you.” He taps a fist on the tabletop. “Tell me: do you love it? Chord worked hard to pull it together so quickly. Approved every design choice to make sure it was what he envisioned for you. He’s a perfectionist, and I was impressed.”
“He is, and it is perfect. I love it.” I tear up at the memory of my new studio, a decade of my dreams pinned to the walls, each and every inch of those pinboards painstakingly transferred and installed by my dad. “Thank you for all the work you did.”
I slide my flat hand across the table, and he sets his on mine. I add my other, and he does the same until they’re stacked together.
Dad’s fingers curl in around mine. “What’s wrong, Violet?”
I sniff and huff out a humorless laugh. “I got a job offer yesterday.”
“You did?”
“Yes. With a very famous and well-respected designer. Leonardo Bellucci.”
Dad scratches his forehead before covering my hands again. “So… you don’t want the studio after all?”
I shake my head with an uncertain shrug. “The job is in Milan. If I take it, I’ll be gone for three years.”
Dad leans back in his chair, hands sliding from mine as he puffs out his cheeks, then releases a stunned breath. “Milan? As in Italy?”
“Yes.”
He rubs one finger under his nose, and his voice is uncertain. “Right. Okay. Well… I’m happy for you. This sounds like the chance of a lifetime, and you’ve earned this. You deserve it.” He grimaces and leans forward again, stacking his hands on mine. “I’m proud of you, Blossom. Incredibly proud.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek. “I’m not going to take it.”
Dad frowns. “Because you don’t want to?”
“Because I have a life here,” I reply. “Chord gave me this amazing new studio, and if I stay in San Francisco, I can negotiate a part-time contract with the Fury. I’ll move back to San Francisco with you, focus on design one or two days a week, and stay with the team so we can keep our health insurance. Hardly anything has to change.”
“Violet.” He yanks his hands back with a shake of his head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Chord is one thing,” he says. “I’ve kept a close eye on him these last few weeks, and he loves you. I’m sure of it. If he hasn’t told you yet, he will soon. And if you want to stay because you love him too, I’ll support you one hundred percent. But I won’t let you walk away from this opportunity for me. It’s not going to happen.”
“Dad. Please. Just listen to me.”
“No.” His voice is firmer than I’ve ever heard it. “You listen to me. I’m not moving back to San Francisco.”
I swallow with difficulty. “You’re not?”
“No. I like it here, so I’ve decided to find myself a real job. A new place to live. Make a fresh start in Aster Springs.”
I don’t believe him. “You’re just saying that.”
“So what if I am?” he asks. “Dammit, I’m the parent. You’re my daughter. It’s my job to worry about you. You’re not supposed to worry about me.”
My chest aches, and there’s a tickle in my throat. I’ve used my dad’s depression to justify my fear of success over the years, but it’s not fair. Nor is it the whole truth.
I stare at my hands and mumble, “I don’t want to be like Mom.”
Dad’s brows snap together. “What?”
“I don’t want to do to you what she did to us.” My voice breaks as I swallow my tears. “I can’t leave you behind to chase a dream that’s only mine. How selfish would I be to sacrifice your happiness for my own?”
“Ah, Blossom.” Dad gets up and rounds the table, pulling me to my feet and holding me in his arms. I sniffle against his warm, familiar chest, clutching him tighter when he releases a sad sigh. “I never realized how much your mother’s choices affected you. I should have seen it, and I didn’t.” He kisses my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I draw back and try to smile for him. “You had your own pain to deal with.”
He holds me by the shoulders, studying me until he’s satisfied I’m not about to break down in tears, then gently pushes me back into my chair before returning to his.
“I want you to listen to me, Violet,” he says. “You are the kindest, most caring, and most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’re smart and talented. You’re beautiful inside and out. I’ve always known it, and now the world knows it, too. If you want to go to Milan, then you need to go to Milan. I want you to go. You aren’t abandoning me. You aren’t letting me down. In fact, I’d be disappointed if you let your sense of obligation stand in the way of this priceless opportunity. I don’t want to be the reason for anyone’s regrets. Especially not yours.”
I blink away my tears as his words hit some sort of bullseye in my heart. That was the reason I was able to forgive my mom for leaving me. I never wanted to be the reason she stayed trapped in a life she didn’t want.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Dad smiles even though his eyes fill with sorrow. “Good. So, what does that mean? Are you going to Milan?”
I stare into my mug of coffee, distractedly noting that it’s turned cold.
“I don’t know,” I admit in a whisper, thinking of Milan and Chord and the San Francisco studio. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”