Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Autumn 2021
T he Sutton Book Club ran out of chairs for today’s book discussion of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. Cross-legged on the floor, Stella had her paperback on her thigh, and she bent low, her chin on her fist, as Esme explained to everyone how important this book had been to her as a teenager. Twenty-one people were in attendance—mostly women, but a couple of men, too, including Larry Gardner, one of the operators of the Sutton Book Club.
“I’ve read it probably twenty-five times,” Esme said with a soft laugh. “I’m so grateful you agreed to read it for this month’s book club. I always find something new when I read it.”
Esme’s eyes connected with Stella’s for a brief second. Stella smiled.
Esme was Stella’s Aunt Esme, sort of. Once upon a time, Esme had married Stella’s Uncle Victor, her father’s older brother, and they’d had four children: Rebecca (whose name, it turned out, came from this book), Bethany, Valerie, and Joel. Joel had died young from an aggressive form of cancer, and after that, the Sutton family had come apart at the seams. Uncle Victor had cheated on Esme and left the island for Providence, Rhode Island. Stella’s cousins had stayed until high school graduation, then left as well. Esme had been on her own for quite a while till she met Larry Gardner and fell in love again.
Seeing them together felt like sunshine on your cheeks. It was a reminder that new love could be found when you least expected it.
Not that Stella was looking for love.
The Sutton Book Club discussed Rebecca for nearly two hours. The mesmerizing discussion left everyone excited about what it meant to share ideas and joyful creativity.
Afterward, Larry and Esme brought out a ton of desserts to share: cheesecake, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies. A blustery wind crashed against the windows of the ornate library, and it felt cozy to be inside, dipping forks into decadent sweet things and sharing more intimate stories about their lives.
Aunt Esme approached a few minutes after Stella grabbed a plate of cheesecake. “Stella! I wanted to thank you again for the posters.”
Esme had hired Stella to make advertisement posters for a new film series that the Sutton Book Club was putting on that autumn and winter.
“It was no problem at all,” Stella assured her.
“But that advertising copy was sensational!” Esme gushed. She touched Stella’s shoulder. “I knew that was your career. Copywriting, I mean. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in action before. You have a real way with words, Stella.”
Stella felt a blush crawl up her chest and neck. Compliments from Aunt Esme were extra powerful because Aunt Esme had such wonderful taste in just about everything. Books. Films. Music. Uncle Victor had made a world-class mistake.
“It’s just advertising copy.” Stella waved it off with her hand.
“I know. But, Stella, I think you have a real talent,” Aunt Esme pointed out. “Today, when you were talking about Rebecca, I was like, she really gets it. She is a literary person.” Aunt Esme’s smile widened.
Stella just blinked at her. What was she talking about?
“Have you considered writing a book?” Aunt Esme asked.
Stella was taken aback. She slid her tongue over her teeth. The cheesecake was too sweet and already giving her a headache. “Oh, I don’t know. Not really.”
“You should consider it,” Aunt Esme urged. “I have this sense that there’s a story in you.”
“I’m sure everyone has a few stories in them,” Stella said.
“But you have the skill to make it happen,” Aunt Esme pressed it. Aunt Esme’s eyes sparkled. “What is the story of your life?”
Stella’s mouth went dry. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know,” Aunt Esme said. Her eyes were urgent. “When someone says, ‘What is one story that defines your life?’, do you have an answer?”
Stella’s heart skipped a beat.
Should I say the divorce? Having children? Marrying Matt?
Those were big stories. But were they the story of her life?
No. Stella knew the story of her life. She didn’t have to think hard to find her answer.
But suddenly, Larry approached Esme with a question and took Esme away. Stella waved in understanding and turned to find another book club member, who asked her how her summer went.
“It’s been a year since your divorce, hasn’t it?” the woman asked.
“A little more than a year,” Stella affirmed. “It’s hard to believe.”
“Everyone tells you to take time for yourself,” the woman said. “But I think you should get back out there as soon as you can. Dating is the only distraction!”
Stella forced a smile. She didn’t share this woman’s sentiments.
But everyone approached divorce differently. That was clear from the myriad of divorce memoirs, divorced bloggers, and divorced Instagrammers. Advice was everywhere. Stella was bored by all of it.
She wanted to find her own way.
Stella left the Sutton Book Club and picked up Chloe at her friend Sasha’s place. Chloe bounded out the door, short and pretty with a chubby, happy face. Stella felt a wave of love for her daughter that nearly overpowered her. Chloe was thirteen now, and already, they’d had their fair share of teenage-related problems. Stella and Matt had a running joke about that, mostly via text. They just texted: “BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES” whenever Chloe was in one of her moods.
But Chloe was all smiles today.
“Is Logan coming home?” Chloe asked of her fifteen-year-old brother.
“He’s at Cole’s,” Stella said. “So it’s just us.”
Chloe threw her fist into the air. “Girls’ night!”
Stella laughed. “What should we do?”
“Movie? Pizza?”
“You know me too well,” Stella said.
Back at home, they changed into pajamas and picked out a movie on a streaming site— Four Weddings and a Funeral. Chloe had never seen it, and Stella remembered nearly dying of laughter when she’d seen it in theaters as a youngster.
They ordered pizza and settled in to watch the film with diet sodas. The wind howled louder and more frantic than it had been that afternoon. Stella wore fuzzy socks and begged to find a pair for Chloe, but Chloe insisted she was “fine,” even though she was barefoot. You couldn’t make a thirteen-year-old do anything practical.
Of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Stella hadn’t considered the British accents. She hadn’t considered what hearing them might do to her heart. Memories flooded through her. A big, open road. A pounding soundtrack. Exhilarating kisses that brought her to her knees.
The pizza arrived. Stella hurried to get it, wiping tears from her cheeks. Why am I crying? I’m being ridiculous!
And then she heard Aunt Esme’s voice in her head. “What is the story of your life?”
Stella opened the pizza box between them on the sofa so they didn’t have to stop the film. This was a rather new allowance in the Sutton household—the Sutton and no longer Fallon household. Stella had taken back her maiden name. Back when she’d been married to Matt, they’d been careful about eating on the sofa, wanting to keep it nice. But these days, Stella wasn’t so precious about anything. Who cared about a few stains on the couch?
Unsurprisingly, Chloe adored the film. She laughed raucously, cried openly, and ate more than her fair share of the pizza. When it was over, she turned to Stella and said, “I can’t believe that’s so old.”
Stella laughed.
“I mean, it’s so good, ” Chloe added.
“There are plenty of great things in the past,” Stella told her. “You just have to dig a little bit to find them.”
Chloe’s smile was greasy from pizza. Stella rubbed her back, then took the rest of the pizza to the kitchen to put in Tupperware containers and save for tomorrow’s breakfast. Chloe flicked around on the television for a few seconds before turning on some music—a pop album Stella couldn’t remember the name of. But the beats were nice.
Stella was reminded of sleepovers when she was younger. Her friends had put vinyls in their parents’ record players, and they’d danced to Janet Jackson or Madonna. It all felt like eons ago.
“Mom?” Chloe asked.
Stella returned to the living room with more diet soda. “What’s up?”
Chloe’s eyes were shining. Was she crying again about the movie?
“Do you know Dad’s dating somebody?” Chloe asked. There was a sharp edge to her voice.
Warmth flooded through Stella. It mattered to her that her daughter cared so much.
“I do know that,” Stella said, sitting back down. “Mandy, right?”
Chloe nodded and bit her bottom lip.
“You met her last week?” Stella asked. Matt had cleared the meeting with her, of course. But neither Chloe nor Logan had brought it up yet. She’d been waiting.
Chloe nodded.
“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Stella pushed.
“You met her?” Chloe looked shocked.
“I did,” Stella said. In actuality, she’d known Mandy since high school, when they’d been on the cheer squad for exactly three weeks together before Stella broke her ankle and joined the chess team instead. But they’d re-met as adults, and they were cool with each other. Mandy’s kids were slightly older than Logan and Chloe. It meant they were often out of the house.
“But what do you think of her?” Stella asked.
“She’s okay,” Chloe said. “Dad seems happy.”
Stella waited for a sting in her chest, but it didn’t come. She genuinely wanted Matt to be happy. That had been the whole point of getting divorced—their own happiness.
“Are they going to get married?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know, honey.”
“I mean, do you think they will?” Chloe tilted her head. Anger echoed from her face.
“I don’t think anyone can say that,” Stella assured her.
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” Chloe demanded.
Stella had to suppress a smile. She considered sneaking off to text Matt to batten down his hatches. She’s in a mood!
“I haven’t met anyone I’m interested in, I suppose,” Stella offered.
“But you’re looking?” Chloe asked. “Are you on the apps?”
Stella laughed. “I’m not on the apps.” Her friends had shown her the apps, and they terrified her. Swiping on photos? It felt inane.
Of course, plenty of her friends had met their partners on those very same apps. She couldn’t judge.
“I was married to your dad for fourteen years,” Stella said, sweeping her fingers through Chloe’s hair. “I’ve enjoyed a year to myself. Every decision I make is for me, for you, or for Logan. Not for some random guy.”
Chloe gave her a confused look.
“Being a wife and a mother is incredible,” Stella said. “But if you ever find yourself as a wife or mother, you’ll discover that that life is about sacrifice. And it’s important to give some time back to yourself.”
To figure out who you really are, Stella thought.
Chloe mulled that over for a few seconds. Stella wasn’t sure she’d made total sense.
“But you’re not lonely?” Chloe asked.
“Not at all,” Stella assured her. “I have you and Logan and plenty of friends and family. I’m good.”
This seemed to satisfy Chloe for now.
Later that night, Stella sat awake in her office, staring at a blank document. Her fingers were poised on the keys.
Aunt Esme’s voice echoed in her mind. What is the story of your life?
Very slowly, Stella began to type:
It was the summer of my twenty-first year, and I was alone at the Athens airport. The airline had lost my suitcase, and I was an inexperienced traveler, meaning I’d packed no more than a water bottle and a book in my carry-on. I had a bit of money, but my fear of pickpockets had led me to put my bank card in the suitcase. The same suitcase that was now just a number in their system.
I grabbed a cheap beer at the airport to consider my options and wait. Maybe my suitcase would magically appear.
That was when I saw him for the first time.
He took my breath away.