“I should go.” Buck tapped his Stetson on his knee. “Star, I’m real sorry to hear about your health condition. I’ll get out of your hair now, let you have your time with Georgia.” He looked uncomfortable.
“No,” Georgia snapped suddenly. Both of her parents glanced at her in surprise. “Neither of you are going anywhere,” she announced. “I can’t handle any more revelations tonight. But tomorrow we are going to have a talk, the three of us. You both have some explaining to do. No one leaves until we have a chance to talk, is that clear?”
Star and Buck exchanged a look. Surprisingly, neither of them protested. “You can sleep on the couch if you need a place,” Star told Buck grudgingly.
Buck looked surprised and discomfited. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine in the car.” He nodded toward the front where a shiny black rental SUV was parked by the produce stand.
“I’m going to bed,” Georgia announced. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” She turned toward the stairs wearily. Her feetfelt leaden, dragging her down with every step. She thought she might be able to hear her heart breaking.
“Georgia...” Star called after her in a tone pinched with worry.
“Save it for the morning,” Georgia said, not looking back. Then she headed up the stairs alone.
•••
Upstairs in herroom, Georgia quietly locked the door. Her head was throbbing, and there was a lump in her throat the size of a plum. Star was sick. Star was losing her memory. It was just a matter of time...
With a little sob, Georgia kicked off her shoes and sank onto the bed, the full skirt of her emerald green party dress splayed out around her. What had been a magical night was now broken beyond repair. All her joy had been leached away by the knowledge that the mother she had just found was going to leave her once more and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. It felt so crushingly tragic, so massively unfair.
Gulping back tears, Georgia shrugged out of her cardigan and unzipped her dress, letting it puddle on the floor. The evening had been so deliciously sweet—Cole, the oysters, the kisses—but now it all felt hollow with disappointment and loss. Georgia stepped out of the dress, shivering in her underwear in the chilly air. She hurried into her pajamas and hung the dress in the closet, then picked up her cardigan. As she did so, a handful of four-leaf clovers scattered across the wood floorboards. She stood staring at the little green plants in bewilderment, then kicked at them in a sudden burst of frustration, crushing them with her bare feet.
“What are you trying to tell me?” she whispered fiercely.
Silence.
With a sigh, she knelt down and gathered up all the clover she could find. She held the smashed little plants in the palm of her hand. Frowning, she stared down at the four leaflets of the clover. Faith, hope, love, and luck. They were in short supply tonight. Nothing felt charmed about her life right now. Instead it felt like a cruel trick had been played on her. Everything had been going so smoothly until the revelation about Star’s illness blew a gaping hole in the center of everything good. How could she cope with losing her mother just when they’d found each other again? The shock of it left her breathless.
Dumping the clover in the trash, she climbed into bed and pulled the worn cotton sheets up to her chin. “Julia,” she whispered to her patron saint. “Help! I feel like I’m drowning here.”
Julia’s voice, practical and chipper. “My dear, all I know boils down to this one truth—nothing in life is ever really wasted. Somehow it will all be used for good.”
Georgia closed her eyes in resignation. “How can this possibly be good?” she muttered sadly. “I need a miracle.”
“One of the secrets I’ve learned about cooking,” said Julia conversationally, pouring hot rum over a puffy dessert soufflé and setting it alight, “is that you must learn to correct something if you can, but if you cannot, then you must learn to bear it with honesty and courage. And remember, if you’re afraid to cook with butter, you can always use cream.”
“Honesty and courage,” Georgia murmured, her eyes welling with tears. “Butter and cream.” She didn’t fully understand Julia’s advice, but she drifted off to sleep feeling comforted nonetheless.
31
Georgia woke atthe crack of dawn, feeling resolute and oddly calm. As soon as she opened her eyes, she knew what she needed to do. She dressed hurriedly, throwing on her chef’s whites and pulling her hair back with her Hermès scarf. It was the outfit she was most comfortable in, and she wanted to be wearing it when she finally got the answers she’d been waiting for all these years. And she intended to get those answers as soon as possible.
Downstairs in the kitchen, she grabbed some leftover rice from the refrigerator and set a medium-sized saucepan on the stove. She put Édith Piaf on her phone, keeping the volume low. She needed to hear Édith’s voice. Correct what you can, and bear the rest with honesty and courage, Julia had told her. Georgia was trying to do just that. Dumping the rice, a cup of cream and a dab of butter, some sugar, and a pinch of salt into the pan, she turned on the burner. While the rice mixture warmed, she sprinkled in some cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg, and threw in a handful of raisins. She stirred the rice pudding as it heated.
“Come on, please let this work,” she murmured. She was a welter of conflicting emotions. Her heart felt leaden at the reality of Star’s condition, yet overlaying the grief was a quiet mounting frustration with both of her parents. She was determined to get answers from them once and for all. But she didn’t just wantanswers. She wanted more than that. She wanted to help fix things, to bring clarity to a situation that had been hidden and toxic for too many years. She was going to try to correct what she could the only way she knew how. Through using her gift and cooking for those she loved with the help of a little butter and cream.
When the rice pudding was warm, Georgia stirred in a bit more cream, one beaten egg, and some vanilla extract, then spooned the warm pudding into three bowls. Rice pudding had been a staple on the Jackson dinner table ever since she could remember. It was Buck’s favorite dessert. No reason it couldn’t be breakfast this morning. They would need all the warm comfort pudding could muster if this conversation was going to be anything short of a disaster.
“Help this bring clarity to the unknown places.” Georgia whispered the words like a prayer, sprinkling in an extra dash of nutmeg, just the way Buck liked it. “Show us what we need to see.”
Taking a spoon from the drawer, she tasted the pudding, bracing herself for the bitter taste of disappointment. But to her surprise, the instant the creamy warmth touched her tongue, she could taste the sweetness. She gasped, then licked the spoon to be sure. It was true. She could taste the sugar, the cinnamon, the hint of vanilla.
“Oh.” Georgia sagged back against the counter in sheer relief. “Thank you,” she murmured aloud. Why today of all days would she get her sense of sweetness back? What strange timing. But she was grateful. At least one thing in her world was being set right this morning. Now she needed a miracle for all the rest too.
Georgia glanced up when she heard footsteps in the hall. Star stood uncertainly in the doorway, Pollen at her heels. Shewas wearing a bulky knit cardigan in cream wool, a pair of worn linen drawstring pants, and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. Her hair curled around her shoulders in a silver cloud.
“Morning,” Star said, her tone a little hesitant. She looked tired. She walked past Georgia and filled the electric kettle at the sink. Georgia studied her mother. How could this woman be suffering from a disease that was stealing her memories, stealing her functionality? How could it possibly be true?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked quietly.
