Chapter 20
Fern shows up.
“Done. That was the last one,” Ren announced, tossing her phone onto the bed and slumping back in her chair with closed eyes. Her empty hand grasped at the air.
“What?” Fern asked, putting her own phone back on the charger.
Twenty calls per person hadn’t felt like too many when they’d first sat down to tell the guests they shouldn’t travel north anymore.
But after the fifth demand of “What happened? Who called it off?” Fern was ready to rip her own hair out. She couldn’t imagine how Ren felt.
“Take me away.”
“To where?” Liv asked.
Ren kept clasping the air. “Metaphorically. Get me drunk. Someone put a bottle in my hand.”
“It’s only eleven-thirty,” Fern said.
Ren sat straight up, mouth agape. “Is that a no?!”
“It’s a yes, unless you wanna get high and start drinking later?” Fern offered.
“Not around me!” Liv shouted.
“Obviously,” Fern replied loudly, flapping her hands in the air. “The offer wasn’t for you, Mama.”
“I’m in. Let’s go outside. I want to eat the cake, too. Livvy worked hard on it, it’s fucking gorgeous, and I picked the flavor because it’s my favorite,” Ren continued petulantly, as if either of her friends would disagree.
Fern raced to her bag, delighted to smoke a bowl with her bestie, while Liv stood and stretched her neck. “I’ll work on that room service order while you two work on your appetite.”
Liv disappeared out the interior door, and Fern and Ren slipped out to the balcony.
It wasn’t long before they met back in the suite as Adam arrived with a few members of his staff to deliver the food: one whole wedding cake minus the topper, plates for all, chocolate milk for the mom-to-be, and two bottles of champagne for Ren and Fern.
Adam went on to give them VIP treatment all day. He claimed he could because he had no other guests, but clearly, he—like the rest of them—felt awful about Renata’s wedding gone wrong.
“Go home, Olivia,” Ren announced abruptly, sometime around nine at night. Liv froze by the bathroom door, cocking her head in question. “I’ll say bye before I leave tomorrow. Just go home, see your man, keep growing that little bambino for me. I know you need sleep.”
“I’ll stay,” Fern said to Liv, intending to reinforce Ren’s suggestion.
“I’ll stay too,” Liv offered, starting to kick off her sandals.
“No, you go. I love you, but you’re pregnant, I’ve been running you ragged, and you’ve done so much for me already.” Ren was adamant, so Liv took her leave after a long hug and whispered words of empowerment.
Wearing a small smile, Renata returned to the sitting area where they’d set up camp for the evening. On the coffee table between them, Fern’s phone buzzed.
“Fuck, it’s my mom. I don’t wanna,” she whined, nudging it away with the back of her hand.
“Did you get in a fight or something?”
“I told her off a few days ago. A week ago, maybe?”
“And you haven’t talked since?” Renata checked.
“Nope.”
“I’m going to take a shower. Take your call.” Ren hopped up, and after a momentary sway, stooped to grab a bottle of champagne before shuffling to the bathroom.
The call had gone to voicemail, and Fern’s mom hadn’t left a message, but Fern was feeling gratuitous, and maybe a little drunk, so she called back.
“Fern,” Mom answered with a sigh.
“Mom.”
A second sigh, bigger than the first, shimmied through the phone like her mom was walking through a windstorm.
She wasn’t. Fern had a feeling she was sitting in her living room with a glass of Franzia—fresh from the box that lived in the fridge.
She had money for better but swore she preferred the taste.
“Yes?”
“Fern.” There was rustling, and Mom cleared her throat. “You said something to me when we last talked. You said you didn’t know if I was jealous of you or if I hated you.”
Stunned, Fern moved to pick up her own drink but only wound up lifting and setting it down a few times over. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know, Mom.”
“But I think you were right.”
“What?”
“I think I’m jealous.”
Blinking, she could only force out a bewildered, “Really?”
Her mom had started from nothing. Orphaned young, pregnant in her early twenties by a deadbeat who disappeared before the birth, she’d made it work.
She’d moved near her sister, earned her associate’s before Fern turned two, got a job that paid for her to get a bachelor's when Fern was five. By the time Fern turned eight, Mom had her master’s and a six-figure salary.
Fern was supposed to follow in her mom’s footsteps—she thought.
“I was too caught up in my own path, the one I wanted you on too. I never stopped to realize you’re already successful in your way.”
Lips pulled tight between her teeth, Fern wanted to say something, but couldn’t, for fear of bursting into tears.
“I love you, and I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I rode you for so many years.
I was unfair and expected you to take after me.
I think I was afraid you’d make the same mistakes I did, and I hoped, if you copied my good decisions, you’d be happy in the end.
You know? I assumed you’d be like me, and I’m sorry. ”
Fern swallowed.
“I don’t blame you for the direction my life went, for your father being a dick, for the work I had to put in. Or I’ve never faulted you on purpose. But you’re saying I have, and I believe you. I want you to be happy and healthy and comfortable, that’s all.”
“Mom,” her voice cracked. “Thank you. Did you get a therapist or something?”
“Is it obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re my daughter, and I don’t need to feel jealous of you. I need to feel proud. I am proud. And if I’m jealous of anything, it’s that you didn’t make the mistakes I made. Maybe mistakes is the wrong word, I just—”
“Mom, it’s fine. If you hadn’t done everything you did to make my childhood what it was, I don’t think I’d be where I am. I wish I’d talked to you about changing degrees all those years ago, wish I felt comfortable doing it.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think I would have left school anyway, and that’s not a poor reflection on you. If anything, it’s because you taught me it’s okay to zoom out my worldview, take a look at the places I could end up, and go for it. Because of you, I know I’ll make it to the end of whatever path I take.”
Her mom sniffled, then honked as she blew her nose.
“I have some good news, too,” Fern offered. “Things I think you’ll be proud of.”
“You don’t have to try to make me proud. That’s my point. You already have.”
“I know. But I’m excited about this stuff. I want to tell you.”
“Share away.”
“Rosalind’s going to sell me the salon for a dollar.”
“You’ll be a business owner?” The excitement in Mom’s voice was palpable, but Fern only smiled. Old dogs, and all that jazz.
“I will. And I’m dating someone.”
“Fern! This is so exciting. Tell me all about them.”
She wanted to, genuinely, but her eyes kept flying to the bathroom door. “I’ll tell you all about him later. I’m glad you called, Mom. But I have to get going. Ren had a really bad night last night. Scott cheated.”
Mom growled, and Fern was pretty sure she huffed something about all men being sleazy before she asked, “How’s she managing?”
“She’s in the shower right now, but she’s okay. Holding up and holding on.”
“Wedding’s off?”
“Oh, it’s off.”
“As it should be. All right, I’ll let you get going. But I love you. I’m so proud of you—for all you’ve accomplished as an artist and for being so much more well-rounded than I ever was.”
“I love you, too.”
They hung up, and she sat in silence, listening to the fizz of her abandoned champagne, until the shower shut off and Ren eventually emerged.
“Why are you crying?” Renata questioned, tying her robe around her waist.
Reaching up to touch her cheek, Fern found it damp. “Relief, I guess?”
“Good talk with your mom?”
“Mhm.”
“Wanna tell me about it? I could use a little good news.”
“Are you sure?” Fern checked.
“I’m positive. You can and should celebrate your wins, and I want to hear about them. Don’t stop living your life just because I’ve hit a... momentary chasm.”
“A roadblock?” Fern suggested instead.
“Eh, chasm feels more appropriate.” Wrapped in her fuzzy robe, her frizzy hair knotted atop her head, and champagne in hand, Ren flopped into one of the plush chairs, looking like the sultry scorned lover in a nineties soap opera. Fern supposed that was an apt description given her situation.
“You really want to hear what I’ve been up to?”
“Yes. Tell me everything. Distract me.”
And she did, regaling Ren with the story of moving to Beckett Falls and all her revelations—minus the shifter bits.
She unloaded her insecurities over not wanting a whole lot out of life and filled her bestie in on how she’d told off her mom before claiming her identities as an artist and as a businesswoman.
Fern only sidetracked herself a bit when she started talking about Elliott’s role in her growth. But she paused, realizing she was blabbing about her hot new boyfriend to a friend who’d just had her heart broken. “Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. This is making me feel better. I feel like you’ve found your happiness.”
“I have, I think.”
“Good. It gives me hope.” Ren smiled at her with tears in her big brown eyes. “Don’t stop chasing it because of me.”
The morning dawned balmy, full of birdsong and broken promises. It was supposed to be Ren’s wedding day; instead, she was leaving alone to return to the city.
Before Ren left, Olivia brought breakfast down to the Lodge, and they ate scones and cappuccinos near the waterfall.
Liv, Fern, and Ren shared a long, tear-filled parting hug, then Renata left, promising to call and text any time she needed to vent.
They’d see her through the months to come from afar, but it wasn’t easy to say goodbye.
Olivia offered Fern a ride, and she accepted, asking to be dropped at the little house at the end of Potter’s Lane.
Backpack and bouquet in hand, because they didn’t want the unused wedding flowers to go to waste, Fern hopped out of Liv’s car and stood on the gravel, swallowing the sunlight with a yawn.
“Hey, sugar.” A low, rumbling voice pulled her eyes open and forward, where a hulking man waited on the porch, greeting her with open arms.