Chapter Thirteen Bianca
Chapter Thirteen
Bianca
She kept her voice low and tiptoed downstairs ever so quietly. She slid the glass door open and stepped outside. The morning chill crept beneath her robe as she pulled it tighter.
“So, you’re saying that it’s back—the cancer?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“I’m so sorry, Bianca. I wish I had better news.
I wanted to wait for all your results to come back before I called, but the biopsy results confirm that the cancer has returned and is in your lymph nodes now.
” Dr. St. James paused for a moment, giving Bianca time to process the information.
“I’d like to see you in my office—talk about some treatment planning. How long will you be gone?”
Her hands trembled as she struggled to hold the phone. Her breathing became erratic. Her chest tightened; a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. She almost whispered, “Another week, maybe two.”
She had promised Remi two weeks, but the third had already begun, and she’d quietly decided to stay a little longer. She hadn’t said it aloud, but the peace and calmness of Napa had grown on her.
“I’m going to have my nurse call you to schedule an appointment. Or would you like for me to refer you to someone there in Napa? I have a colleague in the area—a woman. She’s very good.”
“I don’t want to see anyone else,” Bianca said. “How bad is it?”
“Honestly, I think with a good game plan we can tackle it.”
Bianca stood. The weight of the world pressing into her chest. Her eyes stung, but no tears fell—yet. She looked out at the pool and then turned to look at the rows of vines. A breeze rustled the trees, then brushed against her cheeks.
“Are you still there?” Dr. St. James interrupted her jumbled thoughts.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll be back in New Orleans in a few days.”
Before her doctor responded, Bianca was already ending the call.
She slowly slipped the phone into the pocket of her robe and lowered herself onto one of the patio chairs.
Her hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.
A million thoughts filled her brain. Her heart ached, and fear rushed through her.
Her shoulders slumped for a few moments, and then she pulled herself together.
The door creaked behind her, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“What are you doing out here?” Remi’s voice was groggy and laced with concern.
Bianca wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and stood. “Just didn’t sleep very well last night. I decided to get some fresh air.”
Remi stepped closer, watching her with quiet intuition. “Bianca—”
“I’m fine, friend,” Bianca interrupted her and forced a smile. “I promise.”
Remi didn’t force the issue, but her eyes lingered. “Come inside. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“That sounds good.” Bianca nodded, then tried to lift the mood. “Let’s get this morning going and figure out what we’re getting into today. What’s on the agenda?”
“I have that meeting with Napa County officials,” Remi said. “Licensing, permits … all the fun stuff.”
As they walked inside together, the first light of day cast a shadow across the floor.
And Bianca, still holding the weight of the secret in her chest, knew that soon she would have to tell her friend the truth.
But not yet. Not while she was still recovering from receiving Gerard’s ashes.
Not this morning. Not while the world was still quiet.
Not until she figured out her plan of action.
Remi moved with quiet purpose in the kitchen, pulling down mugs from the cupboard, setting the kettle to boil on the stove. Bianca leaned against the counter; arms folded lightly against her chest, as if holding herself together.
“You know,” Bianca said after a moment, her voice casual but with the edge of something much heavier, “I used to think this wine country life was something of a fantasy. Too quiet. Too still for my taste.”
Remi glanced at her. “And now?”
“And now it seems like the type of stillness I need.”
Remi poured hot water into the French press, her back to Bianca. “Funny how that happens when life shakes you up a bit.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled between them as Remi stirred the coffee in the French press. She turned to Bianca, her eyes warm and steady. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?”
Bianca hesitated for a moment. “I know. I’m just not ready to say it out loud yet. Because when I say it out loud—”
“It’s real.” Remi finished gently.
Bianca nodded with her eyes lowered.
“Okay, well, whenever you’re ready I’m here.” Remi handed her a mug. “No rush. And don’t worry about putting too much on me. I know that’s what you’re doing.”
Bianca smiled at Remi’s intuitiveness. She held onto the mug and nodded. “I’m going home for a bit, but I’ll be back. There’s something I need to handle.”
Silence lingered between them for a moment longer.
“Okay. When are you leaving?” Remi asked.
“Within the next couple of days. Plus, I’d like to check on Chic Threads, make sure things are running smoothly.”
“Okay,” Remi said. “The girls are here. We’ll hang out—keep one another company while you’re gone.”
Bianca smiled faintly. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” she said with a slight chuckle. “I’ll be back.”
“When do you think you’ll return?”
The truth was, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be gone. She didn’t know what would unfold once she returned to New Orleans and met with her oncologist, but she needed to give Remi something. A timeline. “A week, tops.” Bianca’s smile deepened. “This place has grown on me.”
Mila appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. “Are you leaving, Mom? Why?”
Bianca looked at Mila, that toboggan still covering her head. “Just for a little while, baby. I need to handle something in Louisiana.”
“You made this big deal about me coming here to spend time with you. I put Dad on hold to come here, and now you’re leaving. That’s so messed up.” Mila stormed from the kitchen in a huff and went back upstairs.
Bianca glanced at Remi. “That went well,” she said sarcastically, but deep down her heart ached.
Her daughter’s disappointment made her feel helpless, like she would never be able to fix what was broken between them.
It made her feel useless as a mother. What did she have to compare motherhood to, after all?
Her own mother hadn’t been there to teach her what it should look like.
“She’ll be okay. I’ll talk to her. Try to pick her brain.”
“It’s an uphill battle with her. But thanks. Maybe you can gain some insight.” Bianca sighed heavily. “And what the hell is up with that toboggan? It’s not even cute.”
Remi laughed, sliding a mug of hot coffee in front of her. “No clue about that one.”
The doctor’s office was able to get Bianca in sooner than expected, and she didn’t waste any time booking a flight back to New Orleans. Leaving felt strange—unsettling—but it was necessary. She needed to meet with Dr. St. James to map out a treatment plan.
She could hardly believe she was facing it all again—chemo, radiation, hormone therapy.
The words alone made her chest tighten. She had been cancer-free for so long that the thought of going back to that world was surreal.
No, not surreal—a nightmare. She had allowed herself to believe she was in the clear.
So confident that it was behind her. But deep down, she always knew that it would return—uninvited, unwarranted, unfreaking welcome!
The first time had been three years ago—right after the divorce.
Her body had betrayed her at the exact moment her life was falling apart.
Harry had barely moved out before the diagnosis arrived.
She remembered sitting in the exam room, still wearing her wedding band, as if it might offer some protection. It hadn’t.
She was determined not to tell Harry, at first. She didn’t want his pity, or him to return just because he felt sorry for her.
Bianca had done her best to shield Mila from the worst of it, covering up the nausea, turning hair loss into a game of colorful scarves.
But the exhaustion and the toll from the chemo, the fear, all of that was harder to hide, and soon Mila and then Harry became aware of it.
However, it was Remi who had been there through it all.
Her ride-or-die had helped her through the worst time in her life.
This time felt different, though. Not just because she was older, but because she was alone in a different way.
Mila was grown now and pulling away. And Remi, her best friend, her anchor, was a thousand miles away dealing with her grief, while simultaneously chasing her own fresh start.
She’d admired her friend, her sister, since the beginning of time.
But the fact that Remi had her own stuff made this trip home that much heavier.
She peered out the window as the plane ascended, earbuds in her ears, the California vineyards slowly shrinking beneath her.
Napa had felt like a cocoon, an escape from reality.
But now, reality was waiting for her in New Orleans.
And she’d face it too. It was what she always did.
It was who she was, a fighter. And she planned to fight like hell.