—
We didn’t speak of that night again, but Frank behaved differently thereafter. He came home in time for dinner more often and even offered to take me to the new seafood restaurant on Main Street one night, though I politely declined.
I behaved differently, too. Sometimes I didn’t come down for breakfast or opted out of a black-tie event I didn’t feel like attending, even if I knew it would ignite gossip in our social circle. I even got my driver’s license, which felt like the boldest move of all.
Valentina was my first passenger.
She came out to the patio, where I was reading, and sat beside me on the lounge chair by the pool. “Can you take me to the beach?”
“All right,” I finally said, glancing at my watch. “Let me get dressed and get you a snack and then I’ll drive you.”
Valentina leaped to her feet, beaming. “You’re the best mummy in the whole wide world!”
“And you’re the best daughter in the whole wide world.” I smiled.
* * *
—
“Is it fun to drive?” Valentina asked as I backed the Volvo station wagon out of the driveway. I gripped the steering wheel anxiously. While practicing for my driving test, I’d run into the mailbox. Frank wasn’t happy about it, naturally, but Valentina thought the episode of “Mummy Demolishes the Mailbox” was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.
“I don’t know that I’d call driving fun,” I said, putting the car into drive as we set off down the street. “But it is freeing.” And it had been—so much so, that I’d wondered why it had taken me so long to take the plunge.
“I bet,” Val said, gazing through the open window, the warm air flirting with her sun-kissed hair. She stuck her arm out as she’d done since she was little, letting her hand skim the breeze as if it were surfing on air.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. “Let’s stop and grab an ice cream and then walk to the beach? Orange sherbet?”
She smiled. “No, bubblegum!”
“Bubblegum it is, then,” I said, taking a sharp left turn down a side street that led to the boardwalk, where I kept an eye out for a parking space on Ocean Drive, but after ten minutes and three loops around the block, no luck.
Then Valentina pointed ahead. “There’s one, Mummy! See it? Right up there.”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I’m hopeless at parallel parking. In fact, I almost failed my driver’s test on account of that.”
She smiled. “How are you going to get better at it if you don’t practice?”
“Aren’t you my very wise daughter,” I replied, grinning as I sized up the challenge before me. “Now, you better not laugh at me when I botch this up.”
I pulled forward, then shifted into reverse, inching backward at an angle as I’d been taught, but I quickly realized I’d overshot the angle and would have to start over. After eight more tries, I was beyond frustrated.
“Maybe you could just drop me off,” Valentina suggested sweetly, “and wait while I get our ice cream?”
“But then we wouldn’t get to go to the beach,” I said with a sigh.
“Excuse me,” a man said, catching my attention through the car’s open window. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were having some…difficulty getting into this spot. Would you like some help?”
I peered out the window and looked up at him—tall, with brown, wavy hair and a kind smile. I never talked to strange men, but there was something in his expression that disarmed me.
“Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I must look pretty pathetic.”
“Nah,” he said. “I assure you that you’re not the only person in Santa Monica who struggles with parallel parking.” He pointed to a condo building behind him. “I live right up there, and I see it all the time. Men are the worst. The egos. You should see how their tempers flare when they can’t fit into a spot. It’s pretty funny to watch.”
I smiled as he stepped back to assess the parking space. “It’s a bit tight, but I think we can nail this one. I’ll guide you.”
“All right, coach,” I said as Valentina giggled beside me.
“Bring it up a bit,” he said, motioning me forward. “Okay, now stop and slowly crank the steering wheel to the left.” I did as he said, and he nodded approvingly. “Yes, just like that. A little more. A little more. There. Now straighten her out. There, perfect!”
I turned the engine off, marveling at our parking feat, then rolled up the windows and stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk with Valentina. “Who are you, the Patron Saint of Parking?”
He smiled. “I’m Peter,” he said, extending his hand.
“Eloise,” I said, my cheeks flushing a little. “And this is my daughter, Valentina.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” he said, catching my eye again. “Hey, if the two of you are interested, I—”
“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly. “We really ought to be going. I promised her ice cream. But thank you…Peter, for your kindness. It was…very sweet.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he said. “And maybe I’ll catch you another time, that is, if you’re ever in need of more parking assistance.”
I smiled, then took Valentina’s hand, feeling his eyes on my back as we walked away.
That’s when I saw it, the empty storefront on Ocean Drive where I had imagined my bookstore.
“Let’s go window-shopping,” I said, stopping at the vacant shop.
“Mummy,” Valentina said with a laugh, “that store is empty. There’s nothing in the window.”
“Oh, but, darling, you’re so wrong,” I said. “You have to use your imagination.”
She looked up at me curiously. “What do you see?”
I smiled. “Books. So many books.”
* * *
—
“Do they have ice cream in London?” Val asked, licking a drip of pink ice cream from the side of her waffle cone as we sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash onto the shore.
“Well of course they do,” I said, “though I didn’t grow up eating a lot of it. It’s more of an American thing.”
“What treats did you like when you were a little girl?”
“Candy, of course,” I said. “I would do anything for a lemon drop.”
“What else?”
“I used to love my mother’s scones with clotted cream,” I said, remembering how she always served the cream in individual ramekins. “It’s the proper way,” she’d tell me, even if it unnecessarily dirtied more dishes. Mummy was always focused on being proper, both because her upbringing hadn’t been, and also, it’s what she wanted for me. I wondered what she’d think of me now, living in California, married to a wealthy man, able to dirty as many dishes as I liked. It was the sort of life she’d always hoped for me, and yet, I knew she’d be able to read me like a book, seeing the emptiness I tried so hard to keep hidden away.
“Can you take me to London?” Val asked, slurping up the final bit of melted ice cream in her cone.
I wipe a bit from her chin. “I would love to, honey.”
“When?” she asked. “Can we go next month, during my school break?”