“How are you?”
“Fine, thank you,” I said, walking ahead, sideswiping a man with a heavy camera strapped to his shoulder as Peter followed.
“The paparazzi are out in full force tonight,” he said. “Rumor has it that Goldie Hawn and her daughter are here.”
“I may have my own problems,” I said with a smile, “but I’m grateful that lack of privacy isn’t one.”
“I know,” he added, catching up to me. “I wouldn’t trade my freedom for anything.”
Freedom. I thought about what Peter just said, though I could only partly agree. While he might live the life he chose, I would never have my American dream. Land of the free, home of the brave, they say, but I felt neither free nor brave—just…invisible.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight? Maybe we could…grab a late dinner, or a drink?”
But now, I felt…seen.
I paused, immediately flattered, as I adjusted the tote bag in my hand, with Frank’s painting inside, while considering Peter’s invitation. At first, it seemed harmless, fun even—a quick drink, a little conversation, maybe we’d even walk to the beach and kick off our shoes. It would be crossing the line, of course, but oh how I longed to know what was on the other side of that line that kept me in my safe, comfortable, but lonely place for far too long.
I could feel Peter’s gaze imploring me to take the first step, to join him in this new world of freedom. But as appealing as it was, I knew he wasn’t my ticket out. No man would ever be.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’d love to, I really would, but you see, I’m married. And I just…can’t.”
“Oh,” he replied, his face equal parts understanding and disappointed. “Well, if anything changes, look me up, okay?”
“Sure,” I said waving goodbye.
But I wouldn’t. I’d walk to my car and drive home, kiss Valentina’s sleepy head, and wander into my bedroom alone.
The Next Day
The evening of the fundraiser arrives with as much excitement as it does nerves. Millie and I meet in Liza’s flat to start the evening with a celebratory toast.
“How do I look?” Millie asks, nervously surveying her reflection in the mirror.
“Gorgeous,” I say, admiring her long, black-sequined evening gown. “Fernando will be starstruck. Speaking of, when will he be here?”
She glances at her watch. “I’m meeting him in front of the store in ten minutes. Goodness, we have to hurry!”
“Now, hold still,” Liza scolds, attempting to dab Millie’s eyelids with a dusting of taupe eye shadow. “You don’t want to look like a racoon, do you?”
After a few moments, she steps back to admire her masterpiece, nodding with satisfaction before applying a mist of setting spray.
I’m glad to see she’s chosen a classic, muted palette for Millie, and not one more suited to, say, the members of an all-girl punk rock band.
“There,” she says. “Perfection.”
I pop the champagne as Liza slips into her dress—a short blue number with a flouncy waist and a spray of peacock feathers on the shoulder. If anyone can pull off such a zany fashion statement, it’s Liza. Besides, it matches her hair. I smile to myself, pouring us each a glass of bubbly as she dabs her eyelids with a swath of blue shimmer.
“To the Book Garden,” I say, raising my glass. “May it live on.”
“To the best of friends,” Millie says.
“And to new romances,” Liza adds, winking at us both as we clink our glasses and gather our handbags.
I give myself one last sideways glance in the mirror. While I’d packed for an indefinite stay in London, I hadn’t anticipated dressing up, much less going on a second date with a man I’d discovered in a book. Thankfully, Liza’s initial tour of Primrose Hill had included the little boutique down the street. Just as I’m hoping my fellow local business owners will support the Book Garden, I’m doing my part for them. I found a few options, eventually settling on a simple but flattering black cocktail dress with a tie at the waist.
“You need a necklace,” Liza says.
I shrug. “I’m afraid I’m out of options on that front.”
“Your mother had quite a jewelry collection,” Millie says. “Come with me.”
I follow her upstairs, and it’s clear she knows Mummy’s flat like the back of her hand. “In here,” she says, pointing to an enormous jewelry box in the bedroom. I’d noticed it the day I arrived, and yet, somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to inspect its contents.
But Millie does it for me. I watch as she opens each drawer, carefully examining every piece until she finds just the one. “Here,” she says, clasping a chunky crystal necklace around my throat. “It’s a gorgeous dress, but you need a statement piece to jazz it up.”
I touch my collarbone as I glance at my reflection. I’d never, in a million years, think to wear something like this, but just like a bit of lemon zest heightens the flavor in a dish, she’s right—a splash of color amplifies the cut of my dress.
“Naturally, it suits you,” Liza adds, standing in the doorway.
“This one was special to your mum,” Millie explains. “One of the 1930s Trifari pieces she collected at estate sales in California.”
I place my fingers on the necklace again, then reach for my champagne.
As I do, Millie clears her throat. “Val, Liza,” she says. “Come close.”
She raises her glass. “One more toast is due—the most important of them all. To Eloise.”
“To Mummy,” I say under my breath, the words filled with years of pent-up emotion.
“Isn’t it just like her to make everyone she loves more beautiful simply by having known her?”
I smile, letting her words sink in. Millie is right, beauty followed my mother—but so did pain. Tonight, however, I will myself not to focus on the latter.
“Listen, you two,” I say to Liza and Millie. “No matter what happens tonight, if our efforts are successful or not, let’s take comfort in knowing that we did our best.”
Millie smiles, raising her champagne glass again. “To Valentina,” she says. “Our fearless leader.”
I prayed she didn’t see the fear in my eyes as we set out for the event, and this great unknown.
* * *
—
Liza and I follow behind Millie and Fernando as we walk the three blocks to Café Flora together. He’d arrived at the bookstore precisely when he said he would in a freshly pressed suit and holding a bouquet of pastel-colored roses for Millie, who was so stunned, Liza had to coax her to take them from his outstretched arms. All she could do was smile, and oh what a smile as they walked ahead together—Millie adorably towering above him.
We arrive at Café Flora to find that, not surprisingly, Jan and her husband have truly outdone themselves. Not only does each table feature gorgeous cut flowers and linens, but there are also clever literary touches everywhere, like classic book covers for table tags and cocktail menus that double as bookmarks. All around the perimeter are the donated items for the silent auction.