“I’ve only got a minute. Tell me more about this Cole,” Phoebe demanded. “He sounds dreamy.”
Georgia and Phoebe had been texting off and on since Georgia’s arrival. Last night, after the salty mousse incident,she’d casually mentioned Cole in a text. Instantly, Phoebe had responded with a dozen heart-eyes emojis and the words“CALL ME!”
“I only texted you his name last night,” Georgia protested. “How could you possibly get that he’s dreamy from just his name?”
“If he weren’t dreamy, you wouldn’t have mentioned him,” Phoebe said sensibly.
“That’s not true,” Georgia argued, but then admitted, “Okay, he is ridiculously good-looking... but he’s weirdly hostile. He really doesn’t like me and I have no idea why.” Georgia wrinkled her nose. “He works on the oyster farm next door and wears these ridiculous orange rubber overalls.” She didn’t add that he somehow made those rubber overalls look good.
“Who could not like you?” Phoebe protested. “You’re a strong, independent, gorgeous woman... from PARIS. And a natural redhead! What’s not to like?” She sounded genuinely baffled.
“Maybe he doesn’t like redheads?” Georgia hypothesized. “Maybe a redhead broke his heart? I have no idea. He’s acted like he loathes me from the moment he laid eyes on me. I don’t like him either. The dislike is mutual.”
“Ooh, maybe he’s secretly in love with you,” Phoebe exclaimed, sounding inordinately excited by the prospect. “Maybe you’ll fall in love with each other. Ooh, it’s exactly what you need. An island romance with a mysterious, sexy oysterman.” She gave a high-pitched giggle. “After all, orange rubber overalls aresosexy.”
Georgia made apffftsound of dismissal. “You’re dreaming. I just got my heart ripped out by Etienne, remember? I’m not looking for love anytime soon.” Georgia closed her eyes at the momentary pang his name brought.
“Oh, Etienne, he was all wrong for you and you know it,”Phoebe scoffed. “Your pride is more hurt than your heart. You knew what he was.”
For a moment, Georgia was taken aback, but she had to admit Phoebe was right. She had resisted Etienne for so long, for years, actually, so drawn to him, so tempted, but knowing deep down that he was careless with women’s hearts, a man to be admired, desired even, but not trusted. But he’d won her over against her better judgment, and she’d let herself fall for him in the end. She’d given in to the temptation, but she’d been right all along. It still hurt, though. Phoebe was wrong about that. Her pride was hurt, but so was her heart. Even though she’d known the danger, she’d given a little piece of her heart to Etienne, and now that piece was smashed.
She thought of Cole, and for a brief moment, she let herself wonder about him. Was he harboring some secret hurt? Or was he just a prickly hermit living in a cabin? For some reason, her mind flashed to his hands, strong and long fingered, sliding that glass of wine over to her last night. It had been an unexpected gesture of kindness. She wondered for a brief instant what those hands would feel like skating across the bare skin of her shoulder, tangling in the curls at the nape of her neck. She shook off the image. Not happening. Not in a million years.
“Phoebs, I got a text from Michel this morning.” She steered the conversation back into safer and more pressing territory. She told Phoebe about the competition time frame and the two other competitors.
“What are you going to do?” Phoebe asked soberly.
“I don’t know yet,” Georgia admitted. “But I’ve got to figure out how to get my spark back soon. I’m running out of time.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Phoebe told her comfortingly. “You always manage to come out on top, Georgia.” Then she switchedtopics. “How are things going with your mom?” she asked. “Has she told you the big secret?”
“Not yet, but I found out something interesting.” Georgia briefly told Phoebe about Star’s connection to the cookbook and to Julia Child and the City of Light. “She said we used to dream of Paris together, to plan what we’d do when we went there.”
“Oh my gosh, babe,” Phoebe exclaimed. “That’s so amazing! So you and your mom had this dream but you grew up not knowing she shared it with you? But it shaped your whole life? That’s so beautifully tragic.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s like a Shakespeare play.”
In the background, Georgia could hear someone calling Phoebe’s name. Phoebe yelled, “I’ll be a minute. Just rub them all down with baby oil. Yeah, front and back.” She came back on the phone. “Sorry, I’m going to have to go. So do you have any idea what this big thing is that she wants to tell you?”
“No.” Georgia hesitated, looking down toward the beehives at the small white-clad figure of her mother. “But I’m curious to find out what it is.” She narrowed her eyes and thought of Star’s initial email.
There is something I need to tell you, something that could change your life...
That line was stuck in her mind. What did it mean? What did Star know that could change Georgia’s life?
“Babe, I have to go,” Phoebe said apologetically. “They’re done inflating the giant ice cubes. We’ve got to start the shoot.”
“Get back to your swimwear models,” Georgia said fondly. “And be careful with flaming vodka, okay, Phoebs?”
“Snog that oysterman for me,” Phoebe retorted with a giggle. “Have fun!” And then the line went dead.
Georgia slipped her phone into her pocket and looked once more at her mother and Pollen. Star knew something that she felt was important enough to call Georgia to the island, something she claimed could change Georgia’s life. What was it? Could it help her now?
“Maybe it’s time to find out,” Georgia murmured, and headed toward the beehives.
•••
“Is it safeto come closer?” Georgia picked her way through the dewy grass toward Star and the beehives. She really needed more appropriate footwear for an island, she reflected, feeling the moisture from the grass soak through the thin leather of her flats in a matter of seconds. Pollen galloped up to her and woofed a greeting, wagging her tail so hard her entire back end wiggled. Georgia scratched the dog’s head, and Pollen grunted happily.
“Morning, Georgia. You can come closer but move slowly. I’m almost done,” Star instructed in a calm tone. Clad in her voluminous white suit and a wide-brimmed hat with a black mesh veil, she had the top off one of the beehives and was puffing smoke from a metal can that looked like the Tin Man’s oil can fromThe Wizard of Oz. Her movements matched her voice, quiet and steady, almost sleepy, as though she were in slow motion. Georgia presumed it was so she didn’t upset the bees. The veil on Star’s hat was draped over the top of the brim, though, leaving Star’s face exposed. She also wore no gloves. Her hands were bare, and she was doing something with the hives.
