It hadn’t been a problem. It had been a nightmare.
I’d never taken off so much time before, and now I was handing over supervision of two weekends of weddings in New York and San Francisco, weddings that had been booked more than a year in advance. I’d rescheduled outdoor photo shoots at our new resort in Scottsdale and had canceled models, wardrobe, and makeup in Denver. I’d sweet-talked my assistant, Annie, into making the calls for me and for helping me find the perfect apology gifts, likely gourmet meals or spa services, for the wedding couples. Luckily, the corporate attorneys were loophole experts.
Back in San Francisco, I’d color-coded and organized everything, then e-mailed with cc and bcc, finally backing up to an external drive and the cloud. I was ready to leave for eight days. Then, this morning over coffee, Simon had thrown a curveball into my game plan. But I wasn’t going to think about that now.
What mattered was that I’d promised Shay I’d come home, and I had.
“Where’s your favorite hotel?” Miles asked.
“I don’t have a favorite.”
Miles wanted an answer. They always did. “I always like Aspen in the summer. Palm Springs is always nice in the winter.”
“Too bad we only have Nettie’s on Lark.”
“I’ll love staying at Nettie’s. It’s full of memories.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s been renovated, but it’s not a hotel at all, you know. You’re in for a DIY vacation.”
As long as DIY included decent cell reception, I’d be fine. I pulled out my phone. I’d just hold it. In case an urgent message came through. I needed to check in with Annie, but really, after the two flights all I wanted was a bath, a drink, and a nap before seeing Shay.
“If you need to check in with work, I don’t mind,” Miles said. “You can tell your boss about the land if you want.”
I didn’t know if Miles was kidding and didn’t ask. “No, it’s fine. Tell me what’s new with Shay.”
“You text her all the time, I’m sure you know all about her art class. She’s really enjoying it.”
“She’s a natural.”
Miles glanced at me. “I know.”
A lump grew in my throat. “How are your parents?” I asked.
“Excited about the wedding. Yours?”
“They’re in Portland now.”
“Celia always admired their adventurous spirit. Sometimes I think she envied it.”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
We’d pass one more cornfield and then exit the highway, while most cars would keep going and going toward bigger towns or parts unknown. But again, not a stalk in sight. Out of the rich soil grew a Cineplex. My stomach lurched. I pressed my lips together as we rounded the exit, drove past the gas stations and string of fast-food drive-thrus that our exit was previously known for. Last Exit for 50 Miles. Then just over four miles down the road, we turned left onto Main Street. The stoplight was red.
There was a stoplight in Chance? Until I was twelve, there wasn’t even a stop sign.
“I can’t believe this.”
“Not the Chance you remember, huh, Ted?”
“No. It’s—”
“Progress.”
I should have agreed. I should have been happy. But this seemed wrong. Main Street looked posh. Preppy, even. The Chance I knew was gritty on the outside, pretty on the inside. The place I knew didn’t have filigreed street signs so glossy they looked freshly painted—or lampposts to match. And what was with the overflowing baskets of fuchsia impatiens dangling from them? And the awnings. Forest-green awnings decorated every window and doorway from the computer doctor on one corner to the eye doctor on the other. Where were the mismatched signs that had been there my whole life? Those had made sense, announcing goods and services, not flaunting a designer color scheme.
It was as if Chance had turned its back on itself.
I stared at the storefronts. I had never noticed the marble arches between the businesses, or how the ivy trailed across the bricks and along the bottom of the windows. I snapped a few pictures with my phone so I could study them later, before coming back with my camera.
“I’d love to see Shay tonight. Just a quick visit? I want to go to sleep early, but…”
“It’s Gallery Night for her summer art class. That’s why she had to stay back, to set up her sculpture. She wants you to come, of course. I’ll pick you up.”
“Tonight? Really?”
“You can’t say no, Ted. She’s over the moon that you’ll be there.”
“Right. Of course. Of course I’ll go.”
Crap.
That didn’t give me much time to check in with Annie, unpack, shower, change clothes, apply a little makeup. It gave me no time to just be in Chance without seeing people I knew. People I’d left behind. Exhaustion swept through me. Was that what accounted for my hallucination? As Miles cruised past the alley where Celia and I had hidden to smoke cigarettes the summer before we’d started high school, I could swear I saw her standing with her back against the brick wall, a grown-out perm (an ill-fated attempt to have hair like mine) pulled up in a ragged ponytail. And there I was, sitting cross-legged on the ground with pack of Parliaments in my lap. We’d thought no one knew what we were doing, but we were grounded. Twice.
My arms and legs tingled, almost itched. Curls crept across my forehead like spiders. The air from the A/C burned my eyes, and the vibrations from Miles tapping the steering wheel pricked my nerves. I felt the ripples and stitching in the leather seatback through my no-wrinkle dress.
Since when was I the goddamn Princess and the Pea?
Chapter 2
NETTIE’S ON LARK, ITS official name, had been a boarding house until the 1950s, at which point it shifted into a trendier-sounding bed-and-breakfast. After that it was an inn, which meant: no breakfast. Now, rooms were listed on vacation rental sites and described as vintage, charming, and cozy. Painted in whimsical pale blue and yellow, the house mimicked the sky and the sun in a child’s drawing. The turret had made Nettie’s on Lark the castle of my childhood daydreams. In college, I had cleaned the room at the top of the spiral staircase and found there was nothing royal about it, except that it was a royal pain in the ass. Celia and I had dubbed it the “Rapunzel room” and each week we’d flip a coin. The loser was the one to clean it.
“Thanks again for the ride. I know it was a hassle.”
“You took two flights to get here. It was the least I could do.”
“What time tonight?”
“Seven-fifteen. I promised Shay we’d be early.”
“I’ll be ready.”
The trunk popped. “You sure you’ll be okay here alone? There’s no room service, you know.”
“No one waits on me at the hotels,” I said. “That’s not who I am.” That wasn’t completely true. The staff did wait on me when I was with Simon, and they would have when I was alone, if I’d let them.
“You don’t even have a car to get around.”