Thirteen
Valerie walked out of her bunkie and immediately tripped over a huge plastic box in front of the door. Was it Christmas in July? Some sort of illicit drug drop? Food delivery? She dragged it in and opened it up.
Oh, it was Christmas. She pawed through the layers of clothes and tissue paper, shocked by the selection.
It had been a couple days since Penny’s offer, and she’d wondered—but would never ask—if it had been simply a promise instead of a plan.
But Penny had come through in spades. She pulled out a beautiful Celine shirt dress and a pair of loose pink linen culottes tied with a grosgrain ribbon.
Gorgeous. Penny had chosen clothes that not only matched Valerie’s style, but her body.
It spoke to a thoughtful observation Valerie hadn’t expected, but deeply appreciated.
They’d even been cleaned.
After some pleasant deliberation, she pulled on a pleated blush Grecian dress from Chloé that swung around her legs as she picked her way down the cedar-mulched path to the dock, feeling a bit like a debutante.
Too bad Nico was nowhere to be seen. When she’d poked her head out yesterday, he’d been sitting in a chair outside his bunkie doing email on his phone, and his stubble and mussed hair had made her feel all sorts of things.
She liked having Nico close. She liked looking at him and talking to him.
It was an excellent distraction from everything else going on in her life.
The lake was quiet as cottagers slept, worked, destabilized local economies, or did whatever they did before lunch.
She loved how the water changed color over the course of the day, from a silvery gunmetal in the early hours to a deep indigo before the setting sun stained it coral and tangerine.
The fresh air had chased away her usual insomnia and she’d slept through the night for the first time in ages.
Which was fantastic, since the bathroom was in a neighboring bunkie and she didn’t relish wandering out in the pitch-black with God knows what nighttime creatures lurking at three in the morning.
She could get used to this kind of thing, if she didn’t have to eventually earn a living.
At least Alexis hadn’t followed up about becoming a partner in Ad Astra.
If she was lucky, Alexis would move on to another job by September, and Valerie wouldn’t need to have the hard talk with her about the potential partnership.
But maybe Alexis was right. Valerie chewed her lip.
Weddings and wedding-adjacent events were where the medium-to-bigger money was, and it might be good to have a partner to share the work.
Ruth had briefly considered opening a prewedding office that would help plan proposals, showers, and engagement parties and trips.
What if Valerie pivoted? There was no shame in that.
Ad Astra would survive and she could show her mother she wasn’t a quitter.
Sure, she’d be stuck with Alexis, but everything in life had its trade-offs.
Was it something to consider? Even Alexis could have a good idea once in a while, and she might demonstrate some initiative or at least basic workplace skills if she had a stake in the company.
Valerie batted away one of the ubiquitous mosquitoes.
Why was she even thinking of it as a possibility?
It wasn’t, and all she had to do was hurt Alexis’s feelings and cause untold drama and negativity in their friend group by saying, “I don’t want to work with you.
” Because people loved when you told them that.
She’d think about it later. Valerie checked her phone and found a few messages from Dalia, which cheered her up.
They’d exchanged numbers at the restaurant and immediately started a conversation that had ranged from their favorite books to buy as gifts, to whether it was the grapefruit juice or the tequila that made a Paloma sing.
While chatting with Dalia, she hadn’t once felt defensive or small. She felt liked.
She wondered why Dalia had split with the rest of Blair’s group and drafted a message to ask.
Then she slowly deleted it, feeling as though mentioning Blair and the others was unnecessary.
Which was a strange thing to think about your friends, wasn’t it?
Although were they friends or a habit? She’d known them since university, not because of shared interests but because they lived in the same dorm.
They’d simply been there, and as one of the only consistent things in her life, she’d never thought to question it.
But Dalia was making her wonder about whether this was something she should have examined a long time ago.
Lost in thought, she only noticed Alice as she came up for her usual morning swim. “Hello, Valerie! What a lovely dress. It suits you.”
“It’s from Penny’s storage closet. She’s my fairy godmother.”
“That’s surprisingly benevolent of her.” Alice shook her head. “Well, that woman has many faults, but her style isn’t one of them. Are you doing anything?”
Valerie had planned to check on Nico, but she automatically said, “Nothing at all. Why?”
“I saw you crocheting by the dock yesterday.” Alice sounded a bit shy. “I was wondering if you could teach me.”
“I’d love to,” Valerie said. This was a perfect opportunity for learning more about Alice and would take her mind off Ad Astra and friendship and whatever other concerns she came up with. “Today? Now?”
Alice laughed. “Yes, perfect. I’ll have a quick swim and we’ll meet in the Mariposa room in fifteen minutes?”
Alice jumped in the water and Valerie went to grab her crochet bag and check over Nico’s question flowchart. She was fetching them both coffee when Alice arrived.
“You didn’t need to do that, but thank you,” said Alice, taking the cup and looking around the room. “Good, it’s quiet here. There’s no one to witness my shame. Mark says… Never mind.” She went pink.
“Who’ll be the one laughing when you have a brand-new outfit you made yourself?”
“True.” Alice lit up at the idea.
“Not today, though,” said Valerie, apologetically. “We’re going to start with a washcloth.”
Teaching Alice was a pleasure, and within twenty minutes she had a decent foundation chain on which to practice her single and double crochet. Alice poked her hook in the wrong place and Valerie redirected her to the little V’s on the top.
Alice sighed. “This is both easier and more complicated than I thought. I pictured myself kitted out in homemade 1970s glory within a couple weeks.”
“Just beware the sweater curse,” teased Valerie.
“Damn.” Alice lost her grip on the hook. “The what?”
“There’s a myth that if you make a sweater for your significant other, they’ll break up with you within a year.”
Alice laughed. “Have you tested it?”
Valerie shook her head emphatically. “No thanks. I don’t have the guts.” Love was hard enough without adding in curses.
Alice tugged at her yarn. “How have you been finding your time here?”
“It’s a gorgeous place and I’m grateful to have a chance to get to know the family,” said Valerie truthfully.
“The family?” Alice frowned but Valerie couldn’t tell if it was because of her or the missed stitch. “Not your family?”
“Right, mine.” Valerie backtracked, regretting this whole conversation. “It’s hard to get used to.”
“It must have been a huge shock.” Alice twisted her yarn around her hook as Valerie watched suspiciously. Was Alice working with more confidence than one would expect from a newbie? Was the lesson a ruse to get Valerie’s guard down?
“It was.”
“What a coincidence that you and Roger had been living in Toronto and never knew about each other.”
“It is.” Was this normal interest or was Alice trying to probe for weakness in her story?
Alice looked at her closely. “It’s odd that you don’t look like Roger at all. I can’t believe he made that connection so many years later. You must be identical to your mother.”
“I thought the same thing,” said Valerie, trying to keep calm.
“I suppose your parents had a closed adoption.”
Valerie’s mind suddenly blanked on the correct answer. “Yes?”
“Did they know Roger or Yvette?”
“No.” That was true. She tried not to fidget with stress.
“Have you applied to get your adoption records?”
“I’m talking to Roger.” She needed to stop the questions. “There’s a lot we’re learning. It’s been hard.”
Alice looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping.”
That seemed real enough but Valerie took the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “Tell me about Peter. Roger mentioned that your husband was the heart of the family.”
“Peter was a lovely man.” Alice’s voice was shadowed with her loss. “He was the one they all turned to when they needed to talk because he was such a good listener.”
“Nico does that too,” Valerie said, unable to help herself.
Alice’s sparse eyebrow quirked. “Does he now?”
Valerie tried to recover. “Peter?”
“I miss him. You know he nearly died when he was young?” She waited for Valerie’s nod. “He considered each day after a gift because it was one he almost didn’t have. He promised himself he would never act in a way that would cause regret the next time his number came up.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Alice made a face. “Living with a man who never lied was hard for a mere mortal sometimes, although it had upsides.” She laughed. “When he said I looked good, I knew I looked good.”
Being a human Pinocchio would rule Peter out from Valerie’s list, but why talk about Peter’s honesty now? It was possible Alice was trying to put her off the trail.
Fernie came in with a box and began to sort out a variety of scarves in front of the window.
“What’s up?” asked Alice curiously.
Fernie tied one around her wrist and fluffed the bow. “I’m trying some new content,” she said. “Some loser creator copied my rainbow mugs. I figured it was time to bring scarves back.”