Chapter 29 Beth
Beth
I pull my daughter into a hug. None of this is her fault.
“It’s a lot to take in, everything that’s happened, but you’re the good in the weekend, my darling,” I say.
“Life always throws curveballs, and these are some big ones. It’s OK to take a moment and catch your breath.
” I know I can’t push her too hard to reexamine her relationship with Zach, but maybe they’re moving too fast. And it’s not just because he’s Roxy’s son.
“I do love him, but I don’t want him to all of a sudden decide to leave me, like his dad did to his poor mom,” Celeste says. She takes my hands in hers, and we look each other in the eye. “Like what my dad did to you.”
“Seriously, honey, in my case it was good riddance. Amelia was right about that guy, unfortunately, but at least you got his good looks,” I say.
I glance out the window and notice the storm’s dying down, the dust caught in the soft rays of the setting sun, creating a surreal spectacle.
The dust has been replaced by smoke, though, and I wonder how close the fire is coming to us.
I’m sure we’ll receive a warning if we need to evacuate.
I’m reminded of the transient nature of moments like this, like the particles dancing in the desert wind.
The symbolism is not lost on me. Just as the storm has transformed the landscape outside, my daughter’s engagement marks a significant shift in the landscape of her life. And mine. I squeeze her hand.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I say. “I know that’s a void in your life. One I’ve tried my best to fill.”
“I know, Mom. And you did. I didn’t need him in my life, but you’re right, unfortunately I do look a lot like him. But most importantly, I have your dimple,” she says.
“The crowning glory of your gorgeousness,” I say, smiling.
“You don’t think I’m making a mistake with Zach, do you? Getting married to him? I mean, I think he’s great, I love him, but what if he isn’t?” she says.
“Oh, honey, I know this is a big decision, and you guys have moved very fast. You’re in love with Zach, and I’ve seen how much he cares about you,” I say carefully.
“All marriages are, at some level, a leap of faith. No one totally knows the other person, what’s in their heart, what they are capable of, or who they will become.
But that’s why it will be a journey, hopefully filled with more good than bad.
And when the bad does come, as it will, you handle it together and grow stronger. ”
She walks to the window, lost in thought. I’m certain doubts have crept in, and it’s normal to get the wedding jitters. But most young people don’t witness the last gasp of a marriage on their engagement weekend, I suppose.
And the last gasp of a weekend guest, for that matter too.
Celeste turns around and smiles. “You’re right. I love Zach and he loves me and that’s what matters.”
“It does,” I agree. Love matters, and so do patience and a sprinkle of good luck. Oh, and money. Money helps a lot, and at least there will be plenty of that for the newlyweds.
“Mom, do you know what’s happening tonight? Are we still having the fancy dinner?” Celeste asks. “I feel so terrible for Roxy. She must be devastated.”
“Roxy will want to go on with the show. She’s been planning it for months, and it’s her big night,” I say. “Why don’t you go get dressed and we’ll head down early? Offer to help? That’ll give Zach some time alone to think.”
“Yes, we should. You’re so great, Mom, you know that?” she says.
“Back atcha, kid,” I say. “I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour. And Celeste, stay away from the living room and foyer. I’ll find something to cover Brett—to cover the body—but stay away.”
“Good idea, and thanks, Mom,” she says, and she’s gone.
I make quick time of changing into my formal gown, attire specified in the Details section of the weekend’s program.
Tonight, I’m wearing a navy silk dress with crystal straps.
I picked it because it makes me appear to be wearing jewelry like Amelia and Roxy when I don’t have any real pieces like they’ve had on display this weekend.
I know I can’t keep up with them, but I did want to add a little sparkle tonight.
I glance at the bedside table and think about the postcard inside.
I don’t know who put it there, or why. I check. The other bedside drawer is empty.
This whole trip has made me feel unsettled, and I hope I’m not imagining things that aren’t there.
I think about bringing the postcard to dinner with me.
I decide against it. The rest of them will think I’m going mad.
Of course it’s not Sunny on the postcard.
It couldn’t be. Sunny couldn’t be glad I’m here. She died long ago. I shake my head.
I walk out of my room and make a quick search for a linen closet, finding one down the hall.
I grab the plainest-looking sheet I can find amid the fancy dream linens and hurry to the living room, a spectacular room off the front foyer.
As I step through the ornate double doors, I’m suddenly in a space that blends art deco design elements with the distinctive Spanish Colonial influences of the area.
The floor is covered in intricately patterned tiles, while a grand, handwoven Persian rug anchors the room with its vibrant colors and intricate motifs.
Large windows frame the outdoors, adorned with luxurious drapes.
The centerpiece of the room is a sumptuous seating arrangement, with two plush, velvet-upholstered sofas and armchairs with carved wood frames adorned with gold leaf.
The entire room is a harmonious blend of jewel tones, reflecting the exuberance of the roaring twenties.
The room is punctuated with brass table lamps, crystal decanters resting on polished mahogany side tables, and everything is illuminated by a grand chandelier with cascading crystals.
It’s all so glamorous and sophisticated, truly a work of art.
The piano is in front of me, the centerpiece of this section of the first floor.
The only thing out of place in this room is Brett, whose body is sprawled on top of the piano. I don’t look at his face as I cover him with the sheet. I wrap myself in a hug and hurry out of the glorious space, unsettled by the juxtaposition of grand life and tragic, sudden death.
I can’t believe everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Arriving here and discovering Ryan and Roxy’s Palm Springs home is a near replica of the Desert Sunrise, then a sandstorm hits, followed by Brett’s shocking death.
Ryan’s divorce bombshell capped off the afternoon.
It’s a lot to take in, as I told Celeste.
Hardest of all, though, are the visions of Sunny flooding my mind, attempting to drown me in memories.