Chapter 25 Rosalie
Chapter 25
Rosalie
Jean-Paul has her stirring a concoction of raspberry jam and horseradish for a dip they’ll serve at lunch. Inside, Rosalie boils.
Today.
Today she had planned to tell Cassidy about what she’d done, about the search and what she’d learned. But no. In classic Cassidy form, she had to go ahead and ruin everything. Rosalie had waited for the right time to ease into the conversation, giving her mother a chance to acclimate to the peace and calm of the inn, but nothing ever goes as planned when Cassidy is involved. Appointments with teachers. Shuttling her to driving lessons (because no one in their right mind would take a driving lesson from the woman who’s racked up more tickets than Taylor Swift’s Eras tour). She was perpetually late. Frazzled. A no-show.
News flash. They all know her mother’s a mess. It’s not as though Cassidy’s trying to hide the hangover, the bobbing head, or the glaze in her eyes. Rosalie was foolish to think it would be any different in a picturesque mountain inn, that the peacefulness would make her announcement any easier. She considers the irony. How the one thing she thought might bring some order and consistency to her life is a total shit show.
At dawn, after listening to her mother retch in the bathroom, Rosalie wandered off to the library to escape the sounds. Simone was there, and at first, Rosalie was reluctant to join her on the couch, but Simone patted the empty seat beside her. “I wondered what took you so long.”
“You heard?”
“My room’s directly above hers. She must have her window open.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. She’s the one who’s sorry.”
The wind thumps against the windows, storm clouds rolling across the sky.
Simone played with her camera, peering through the lens, training it on Rosalie.
At that hour, Rosalie’s face was scrubbed clean, and she knew what Simone was thinking, because she’d heard it before. And it wasn’t a few seconds before she said it. “I like how you do your makeup and all. I like your technique, but girl, you don’t need all that stuff.”
Rosalie took it in. But it wasn’t easy.
She wasn’t overtly feminine like her mother. The kids her age preferred that type, and she’d spent the last fifteen years wishing her mother would eat a Dorito.
Rosalie quickly changed the subject, holding her palm up to the lens. “What do you do with all these pictures?”
Simone tucked her knees beneath her and pointed to a bookshelf. “Every week at the inn is featured in one of those albums.”
Rosalie stood, craning her neck to read the spines.
“I’ve been capturing memories since I moved here.”
She glanced back at Simone. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Natalie Portman?”
“I hope not Beautiful Girls Natalie Portman.”
“I was thinking more like The Other Boleyn Girl .”
“Haven’t seen it.”
Rosalie picked up one of the albums and started flipping through the pages. “Your aunt and uncle look so different.”
“That was the pre-beard stage. I kinda like it on him.”
Rosalie studied the couple, smiling at the table with eight guests surrounding them. Then she returned the album to its place and chose another one. Each book opened with the menu for the week and the first night’s photo of the guests on the stairs. Then candids. Laughter and food and beautiful scenery. She admired what the De La Rues had created.
“How’d you guys choose this place?” Simone asked.
Rosalie returned to the couch, covering herself with a blanket.
“Every year, Cassidy and I alternate. This was my year to pick, and to be honest, I chose self-preservation.”
“Tell me about it. It’s so peaceful here. It’s like breathing clouds.”
Rosalie smiled. “You must see a lot of interesting things.”
“You have no idea. I see it all.” Simone stared past Rosalie, a faraway look in her eyes. “What do you make of this group?”
Rosalie shrugged, unsure of what Simone was getting at.
“Don’t bother. I’ll fill you in. Something’s going down. Something big.”
Rosalie’s intrigued. “How do you know?”
“It’s easy. When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you know. You get a sense of people.”
Rosalie’s stomach tightened. Did she know? She stopped short of counting aloud, tapping her fingers under the blanket instead.
“So when I tell you something’s going to blow this week, trust me.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Just mark my words, there’s going to be ... like that thing Henry talked about ...”
“A comet?”
“A comet . . . a blowup . . . like that Tasmanian devil . . . something . . . some type of . . . I don’t know.”
Simone’s premonition made Rosalie quake inside. She wasn’t a psychic—lots of people got vibes about things—but it still freaked her out. Rosalie was used to being a step ahead, minimizing danger.
“Does it have to do with me?” Her words came out with a tremble.
Simone finally recognized she had put the fear of God in Rosalie.
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s nothing like that, I don’t think. It’s Lucy and Henry and Adam and Sienna. There’s something brewing, and it has to do with last year. Something went down. They’re hiding something. It’s so obvious. Even my tante Renée thinks so. I heard her talking to Jean-Paul.” She leaned back on the couch. “I know. You think I’m weird.”
“I don’t think you’re weird.”
Rosalie should have relaxed, but what Simone said only amped up her anxiety. She had her own secrets.
The house creaked, the sounds of life hitting the floors.
“I better get going,” Simone finally said. “I have to help with breakfast. But maybe when I’m done, we can take a ride to Boone. There’s cool shops there—my favorite is Lucky Penny—and we can get tacos at the Black Cat.”
“Jean-Paul said I can have another cooking lesson, so maybe after that.” Rosalie liked the idea of spending time with Simone. Even if she scared the daylights out of her.
“It’s cute you have a little crush on him.”
Rosalie grimaced. “I wouldn’t call it a crush. He’s kinda old.”
“I loved Leo when I was five. He was twenty-nine. Okay. Gotta run. See you later. And let’s keep this conversation to ourselves.”
And that’s what she’s been doing since she entered the kitchen. She should have argued that the idea of having a crush on Jean-Paul is gross, but she was too fixated on the imminent drama Simone predicted. That and Cassidy showing up to breakfast hungover was a lot for her at once.
No, she wouldn’t tell Cassidy the news right now. But soon.