Star
Dumbfounded, Georgia stared at the message, rereading it over and over. Star Stevens, the woman who had walked out the door twenty-eight years ago and disappeared from her life forever. Why in the world was she contacting Georgia now? How had Star even found her?
“If you want to know the truth about yourself and our family, then come to San Juan Island...” Georgia read the words aloud slowly, as though trying to decipher their true meaning. In a flash, she saw her mother, slender and wiry, wearing a flowing orange batik dress as she threw her guitar case in the back of a beat-up brown Eldorado and drove away. Georgia couldn’t quite recall her mother’s face, but she remembered her hair—untamed, spilling down her back in a mass of unruly red-gold spirals. Over the years, Star had become an almost mythic figure in her mind. The woman who had left her daddy, a dustyranch in Texas, and a heartbroken five-year-old with her mama’s red curls. The woman she’d always longed for, always wondered about, always secretly wished would come back one day. The woman she’d been waiting on for almost thirty years.
“Star Stevens,” Georgia murmured. “I always hoped you’d find me.” And then without warning, she burst into tears.
•••
“Well of courseyou have to go!” Phoebe exclaimed. “How could you not?”
It was late afternoon, and Georgia had just told Phoebe about her visit to Michel and the email from her mother. She’d reread it at least a dozen times since that moment on the bench in the Luxembourg Gardens, but it still felt as mysterious and astonishing as ever.
Phoebe leaned over the tiny table in her kitchen and considered the assortment of macarons nestled in a narrow pistachio green box in front of her, running her fingers lightly over the brilliant rainbow colors, each a delicate, delicious flavor. “Orange blossom, my favorite. You remembered!” she exclaimed, plucking a pale peach–hued one from the box.
Undisputedly the best macarons in Paris, Ladurée’s had always been Georgia’s go-to treat for every birthday, promotion, or milestone in life. Georgia had stopped at one of the Ladurée shops on her way home from seeing Michel and selected a dozen macarons as a thank-you gift for Phoebe.
“You like citron, right?” Phoebe asked, holding out a bright canary yellow macaron. “Here you go. I’ll share.”
Georgia declined politely. She wouldn’t be able to taste it, though she didn’t tell Phoebe that.
“My mom left us when I was little,” Georgia explained. “Just vanished for almost three decades. So why is she contacting menow? And what does she mean, come to San Juan Island if I want to know the truth about myself and our family? What truth? It just all seems so... strange.” She wrinkled her brow, puzzled and a little skeptical.
“Seems pretty perfect to me.” Phoebe nibbled the macaron as she reread the email on Georgia’s phone. “This could solve everything! You can get away from Paris like Michel told you to and you can reconnect with your long-lost mom. Surely you’ve been curious about her? This is your chance to find out the truth. How is this not a good plan?”
“Maybe.” Georgia hedged. She felt strangely reluctant. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it. Star Stevens, her mother, was not only alive and well and living on an island somewhere but inviting Georgia to come for a visit? Just like that, out of the blue? She didn’t know how to feel about it all. She had so many questions about her mother. Every time she thought of Star, she felt the familiar confused churning of anger, longing, grief, and resentment low in her belly, the same emotions she’d been harboring since she was a young girl. Star Stevens. There was nothing simple about that name. And yet, Phoebe was right. Georgia was curious, very curious. What did Star want to tell her? And why? There were so many questions.
“Frankly, what do you have to lose?” Phoebe asked, selecting a bright pink raspberry macaron from the box and nibbling it.
“Nothing I haven’t lost already,” Georgia admitted. “I just can’t believe she contacted me after all these years. I know absolutely nothing about her. She’s a stranger to me.” She looked at the email on her phone again. “And where in the world is San Juan Island?”
“Sounds exotic. Let’s look it up!” Phoebe whipped out her iPhone. A moment later, she squealed. “Ooh, look! It’s in Washington State, north of Seattle. And it’sgorgeous.” She held out her phone to Georgia, flicking through a dozen photos. Deepblue water and emerald green islands capped by evergreen forests. Rocky bays and serene white ferries chugging past pods of orcas. A tiny town of quaint clapboard buildings painted in a rainbow of hues. A harbor clogged with bobbing sailboats. It looked idyllic, soaked in natural beauty. Serene. It was a world away from Paris, or Texas, for that matter. Georgia took the phone and studied the photos, mesmerized. She’d never seen anything like it. She felt a longing tug in her chest, something she couldn’t quite articulate. Something was calling to her there. She had to go.
Phoebe took her phone back and read avidly for a few minutes. “It says here that San Juan Island is known for pods of orcas, kayaking, a lavender farm, cidery, vineyard, shellfish farm, restaurants with Pacific Northwest cuisine, and farmers markets.” She put the phone down and looked at Georgia expectantly. “You’ve got to go,” she urged. “Think about it. What better place to regain your spark than somewhere like that? And you can get to know your mom again and find out what she wants to tell you. It’s a win-win.”
Georgia bit her lip, considering. “It sounds pretty ideal,” she admitted finally.
“Oh goody!” Phoebe clapped her hands. “It’s the perfect time for you to have an adventure.” She tipped her head and surveyed Georgia coyly. “Maybe you’ll find more there than you bargain for.”
“What does that mean?” Georgia handed the phone back.
Phoebe shrugged. “I don’t know. A romance with a sexy fisherman or lumberjack? Something good you don’t see coming. I just have the funniest feeling this is going to change everything for you.”
Georgia wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks. After Etienne, I’m done with romance for a good long time.”
She was only considering going to the island in the hopesthat she could get her sense of taste back, regain her spark in time to prove to Michel she was ready to have her own restaurant, and satisfy her curiosity about her mother. That was it. Perhaps going to the island and seeing Star would be a step in the right direction. Maybe regaining her spark was as simple as regaining her sense of taste. If she could regain her sense of taste, she hoped everything else would fall into place.
“So you’re going?” Phoebe squealed.
“I’m going,” Georgia decided in an instant. What did she have to lose? She sent a quick email reply to Star, one line letting her know she wanted to come and asking if she could arrive soon. She pressed the send button on the message before she could have second thoughts.
“This is so exciting,” Phoebe crowed, almost bouncing with excitement. She loved drama of any sort. “What time is it in Washington State? It’s early morning there, right? Ooooh, I hope she writes back soon.”
“Me too,” Georgia said, quietly sending up a petition heavenward. “Please help this not to be a mistake,” she whispered.
Twenty minutes later when Georgia checked her email, there was a one-line reply from Star.
Dear Georgia,
