Epilogue
Grace
One Year Later
First, we’ll grab brunch in the Short North, where we’ll people-watch and gossip…
but only in Pig Latin. Next, we plan to visit her favorite spa and get facials because she would absolutely tell me that my skin currently looks “drier than a saltine.” Then, we’re going to end the day by bringing two honey sticks to her grave and sharing our favorite Mae memories.
We’ve had the most amazing time in Ohio since Danny retired earlier this year. It’s been filled with charity work, lunches at the animal clinic, and nights at our new house just outside of Columbus.
We’re house-sitting Danny’s childhood home this week while Janie and Roger are on vacation. Danny’s finally conquered Janie’s famous cinnamon roll recipe, which was a surprise for all of us. He even hung up the recipe on our new robot fridge, like a C student who finally aced a test.
Danny’s picked me a fresh flower from Janie’s garden every single day this week, and I can’t wait to see what he put in the painted vase today.
My guess is one of the deep pink roses that just bloomed.
I hustle downstairs, expecting to hear his voice or music playing, but the house is completely empty.
Peering around the corner into the main family room, I shout, “Danny?”
I walk into Janie’s office next and call out his name again.
Nothing. When I meander back to the kitchen, I find a note with my name on it taped to the refrigerator.
My mouth falls open. Why does this look like…
It can’t be though, right? Because it looks like Mae’s handwriting.
And the name on the front is a dead (pun intended) giveaway—Queen Bee. But how?
No time to ponder as my ferocious curiosity takes over. I rip open the envelope and start sobbing the minute I read the title at the top.
To be Opened on the Day of Your Engagement
Bee,
To answer your top two questions:
1. Yes, you’re getting engaged today. Surprise!
2. Janie is the one who held onto this letter in the event you would be in Ohio for your proposal. It was all very “Mission Impossible” of us.
I’m writing to you, on the day of your proposal, for one reason: to tell you that your mother would be staggeringly thrilled with the person you are today.
You are more than she ever hoped or dreamed.
“Proud” wouldn’t even come close to a word big enough to describe how she would feel about you and all you’ve accomplished.
And she would feel the same way about that neighbor boy. You have no idea the amount of gratitude I have in my heart for Daniel. While I wish, with all my heart, that I could’ve gotten to you sooner, I’m resting peacefully knowing he’s getting you forever.
When your mom was nearing her end, she didn’t expend a lot of energy talking, but I do remember her saying this: “I can’t believe I’m going to miss all of the big, brave things she does.”
Keep doing those big, brave things. We’ll be watching from wherever we are.
Love you like bees love honey.
Mae
P.S. He’s bound to mess up the proposal somehow, dear.
Knowing him, he’ll force you to hike up a mountain to get the ring.
We both know you barely have the lung capacity to walk ten laps around a department store without getting winded.
Whatever he has planned, please do take an inhaler. I’d hate to see you soon.
I reread the letter.
A proposal…it doesn’t feel real. I wipe my face with the kitchen dish towel that lives on the oven handle.
I just want to see Danny. Am I supposed to wait here for a smoke signal that will lead me to where I might be getting engaged?
Is this the part where I meticulously apply contour so I look beautiful for a secret photographer like some kind of celebrity?
Shit. I just remembered my soon-to-be fiancé is a celebrity.
This probably will end up in a magazine, and I just expelled all of the water in my body through my eyeballs.
First order of business will be finding clothes, then eye masks.
I walk upstairs in a daze to Danny’s room and hope I packed something presentable for a magazine.
I’m sifting through my suitcase for a pair of shoes without holes when I find another note taped to my makeup bag—this one in Danny’s handwriting.
Gracie Girl,
Stop panicking. You don’t need to be anyone but yourself, on this day and every day. You’re all I want, just as you are. But can you hurry? The sun is merciless, and I’m probably sweating out here.
There’s no one else for me but you,
Danny
P.S. Do you happen to know where your graduation cap is? Tessa will need to make some alterations.
It’s not a smoke signal, but I know exactly where he’s hiding.
My boy is by the creek. I abandon the notion of looking more presentable and throw on an old pair of flip-flops.
A whirlwind of memories hit me as I walk out the back door and through the woods.
I feel like I’m following in the footsteps of little Gracie and Danny.
My flip-flops kick up dirt like they’re my old jelly sandals.
My curls bounce in front of my face, sticking to my forehead.
Our favorite emo punk song plays on repeat in my head.
I swear I can almost hear Charger barking.
I arrive at our clearing.
The creek babbles.
And Danny’s on one knee in our secret spot.