“So that leaves Rory,” Eve said quietly over the hum of the mixer.
“That leaves Rory.”
We were silent for a minute. I tried to envision myself in that life—with Rory, in the Florida house, with the girls, running my own business. There was a tug on my heart every time I thought of the girls. Could I do it? Could I choose that life for good? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. It felt so surreal to even be talking about all this. It felt like I was being handed the biggest gift in the world, the ability to choose. I knew what I’d experienced. I didn’t understand the mechanics of it, but I understood how I felt in my heart. I would do anything, risk anything, for a chance of a life with Rory and the girls. They were my joy, pure and simple.
“Pros and cons?” Eve asked. She carefully poured the blended liquid into a long rectangular wooden soap mold lined with waxed paper.
I ticked off the reasons in its favor. “My dad would be happily married.” I pictured Ramona Flores, the quiet adoration in Dad’s eyes in the wedding invitation photo. Even though it had been shocking to see him gazing at another woman that way, I wanted to see him that happy again. “And Daphne would be doing what she seems bent on doing anyway.” I’d already filled Eve in on the whole Bikram yoga argumentthat Daphne and I’d had. Since that conversation, Daphne had not budged in her determination to quit school and pursue her yoga instructor certification. She and Damien were “exploring options,” she told me.
“What about the Eatery?” Eve called as she carried the empty soap pot to the kitchen sink.
“I don’t know about the Eatery. I forgot to check when I was with Rory. But I guess if Dad is happy and Daphne is doing what she wants to do... maybe it doesn’t matter?” It was a weird thought.
Eve reappeared, two bottles of home-brewed kombucha in her hands. She sat down across from me and handed me one. “Earl Grey and grapefruit. A new batch.”
“Ooh, fancy.”
She shrugged. “That’s how I roll. Cheers.” She clinked bottles with me, and we both took a sip.
“What are the cons?” she asked.
I hesitated. “I think that’s the wrong question. I’m sure there are some cons, probably more that I’ll discover along the way. But I’m not looking for the perfect life. I’m just trying to do what Aunt Gert keeps urging me to do—follow my bliss.”
“And is this life with Rory and those girls following your bliss?” Eve was watching me over the top of her kombucha bottle.
I nodded. “Yes, I think it is.”
In the background Pat Benatar wailed about love being a battlefield. It was so like Eve to choose eighties rock-chick power ballads as an ironic soundtrack for the most crucial decision of my life. I slipped my hand into my pocket and ran my fingers over the gritty little surface of the last lemon drop. “I can’t live the rest of my life without him, Eve, without Rory and the girls. Not when I have a chance to be with them.” I looked at her, pleading for understanding, for her support.
Eve sighed as though she’d expected this outcome all along. “Okay then,” she said, and took a long pull of kombucha. She set her bottle down. “I just have one question for you.”
“Yes?”
“Are we still friends in this new life of yours?”
“Absolutely,” I said firmly. “You texted me photos of the goats. Dotty had twins.”
“Good. Then you have my blessing. Use that lemon drop and go follow your bliss.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“You know, my mom loved lemons,” I said thoughtfully. “She believed they have special powers. She always told me that lemons clarify things; they symbolize happiness and hope. But when she died I stopped believing lemons were anything more than a chore, something sour to squeeze every morning for pie. How ironic that it’s a lemon drop that’s changing everything for me.”
Eve gave me a sideways look. “This is so weird,” she said, shaking her head. “And the only reason I’m not completely worried about you is that I actually think this is somehow good for you. I can’t explain any of it, but I have this gut intuition that it’s all leading in the right direction.”
“Me too,” I said, looking up and meeting her gaze.
“You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?” Eve eyed me with a touch of amused disbelief.
I didn’t answer, just drained my kombucha in a few gulps, trying to tamp down the fluttering of nerves in my chest. I closed my hand around the lemon drop, holding it like it was my last chance on Earth. It was. It was my chance to right the wrong turn my life had taken so long ago. I was finally going to get Rory Shaw, and with him the life and love I’d purposely shattered so many years ago and longed for ever since.
34
SEVEN YEARS AGO
MARCH
One cool Saturday morningin spring, three years after my mother died, Nancy Shaw came to see me. It was early, before the Eatery opened, and I was baking the day’s pies. She tapped on the back door and stepped inside.
