Come when you can. I will be waiting for you.—Star
Below it she’d included her address, a place called Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. Georgia stared at the address, wondering what she would find there. Was Star married? Did she have other children? She could have another family and life Georgia knew nothing about. The thought was unsettling. What was she walking into? Many times over the years, Georgia had googled her mother’s name, but had found no trace of Staronline. It was as though Star Stevens didn’t exist. Except quite obviously she did. And if all went well, Georgia would soon be face-to-face with her. The thought made her equal parts anxious and excited.
“Give me courage,” she whispered, hoping Julia could help her. “Please let this work out.”
Phoebe shrieked when she heard the news and went to find a bottle of champagne to celebrate while Georgia started looking for a plane ticket. A few minutes later, she’d located a one-way ticket to Seattle, the closest major airport to San Juan Island, leaving early the next morning. Everything was happening so quickly, but she figured why wait? It was better to go as soon as she could. There was nothing to keep her here now. She needed only to collect her belongings from her old apartment and she could be on her way in a matter of hours. She blew out a breath, wincing at the exorbitant cost of the ticket that would eat up much of her meager savings. Her finger hovered over the “purchase” button for the flight. Was she crazy to jump headfirst into this? What could happen if things went badly? What if she didn’t regain her sense of taste, didn’t regain her spark? What if she and Star had nothing in common? What if it all went horribly wrong?
She hesitated. It suddenly felt so risky, like closing her eyes and jumping off a cliff. “Come on, Georgia, you can do hard things,” she murmured. She’d been doing them for years. Leaving home at eighteen with a hundred dollars in her pocket and the disappointment and disapproval of her father and aunt. Putting herself through culinary school, learning to make gourmet meals during the day and then going to work the overnight shift at whatever minimum-wage job she could find. Eating only two meals of peanut butter sandwiches and scrambled eggs in her shared studio apartment every day to save money. Wormingher way into the restaurant scene in Paris and climbing the ranks through sheer talent and determination, as an American and a woman in the kitchens of Paris. It had been a Herculean effort. She had sacrificed and scrimped and worked her fingers to the bone to succeed. Now she was so close. She would do whatever she could to prove to Michel that she was the right choice. La Lumière Dorée could still be hers. She had to take the chance.
And while she was on San Juan Island, Georgia would finally reunite with the woman who had birthed her and abandoned her. The woman her family had refused to talk about after she vanished, the woman Georgia still longed for sometimes, waking muddled and forlorn with tears wetting her cheeks from a dream she could never remember. She was leaving Paris to try to regain all the precious things she’d lost. It was a risk worth taking.
“Let’s toast to your new adventure,” Phoebe trilled, returning from the kitchen holding aloft two champagne flutes.
“Just a second.” Georgia took a deep breath and punched the “purchase” button for the flight. There was no going back now. She was really doing this.
“Bon appétit, ma choupinette!” she heard Julia chortle from somewhere in the back of her head, popping a chicken in the oven and waving goodbye.
7
“We are nowapproaching the Friday Harbor Ferry Terminal,” a voice crackled over the loudspeaker of the Washington State ferry. “All passengers are asked to return to their vehicles at this time. All walk-on passengers will disembark from the car deck.”
Georgia leaned over the top railing of the passenger deck on the double-decker white-and-green ferry and inhaled the fragrance of salty sea air and spicy evergreen needles as the large boat glided smoothly toward San Juan Island. She had never smelled air so fresh. It had been a grueling trip to get here—two layovers in Frankfurt and Dulles, and on all three flights she’d been crammed in the middle seat. But now after a shuttle from the airport to the ferry terminal and a jaw-droppingly beautiful hour-long ferry ride through the San Juan Islands, she was finally approaching Friday Harbor. Georgia swallowed nervously. It was time.
Retrieving her two rolling suitcases from inside the passenger area, Georgia followed the other passengers down onto the car deck. Her two heavy suitcases contained all her worldly possessions. After she purchased her plane ticket and toasted her new adventure with Phoebe, she had waited until late evening when she was sure Etienne would be at the restaurant. Then she and Phoebe had gone back to her old apartment to liberate her things. While Phoebe blasted the Spice Girls hit “Goodbye” on repeat and systematically emptied all of the bottles of expensiveliquor from Etienne’s Art Deco bar cart down the kitchen drain, Georgia had hastily packed up her belongings and said a final goodbye to her former home and the man she’d shared it with. It had felt brutal to leave that way. Although she’d had her doubts about Etienne over the course of their relationship, she never could have imagined that this was how things would turn out. The betrayal still took her breath away. But here she was, leaving Paris and oh so ready for a fresh start.
She shivered, nestling into her lined trench coat as the ferry entered the harbor. It was chilly here in April. The air on the front open ferry deck was bracing, sharp, and tinged with salt and rain. Although she was so exhausted she felt like she was floating a few inches off the ground, Georgia was almost giddy with nerves, every sensation clearer and sharper. She stood with the other walk-on passengers and watched the bright clapboard buildings of Friday Harbor grow closer. It was a quaint, small town made up of historic wooden buildings painted in a rainbow of colors. She felt like she’d stepped onto the set of a Hallmark movie. Not a high-rise or a scrap of litter in sight.
Once the ferry docked, Georgia walked up the ramp, scanning the waiting cars. She spotted a few with taxi signs on them and found one that was willing to take her to the address Star had sent her. The taxi was a butter yellow classic car, adorable but expensive. With a sigh, she slid into the back seat and pressed her face to the window as they wound through the tiny town filled with pubs, seafood restaurants, an ice cream shack sitting right at the edge of the harbor by the sailboats, a two-screen cinema, and an old-fashioned hardware store. It looked like something out of a postcard—quaint and nautical, a far cry from the stately grandeur of Paris. She found it utterly charming.
“Here for sightseeing?” the friendly cab driver asked as theyheaded down a rural road out of town. “The orcas went north earlier this morning, I heard.”
“Visiting a... family member,” Georgia replied. Her pulse quickened and she swallowed nervously as she pictured facing her long-lost mother in just a few minutes. She had sent an email letting Star know she was on her way and giving her flight details, but had received no reply before she departed Paris. In the email, she’d told Star that she’d find her own transportation to the house since she didn’t know her exact arrival time to the island. She had no telephone number for Star and no other way to contact her. Hopefully, Star was okay with her daughter showing up at her doorstep on such short notice. Even if she wasn’t, it was too late to turn back now.
Georgia stared out at the passing scenery, rolling hills dotted every so often with tidy farms and large swaths of evergreen forest. Occasionally, through the trees or across a field, she’d catch the gray-blue glitter of the sea. The island exuded tranquility and beauty. She’d never seen anything so peaceful in her life.
Nervously, she touched up her lipstick and fluffed her wild curls. Any minute she’d be face-to-face with Star, and she felt queasy with anticipation and nerves. What would Star be like? Would she be anything like the few hazy snatches of memory Georgia had clung to all her life? What if she felt like a complete stranger, one Georgia could not find anything in common with? Or what if Georgia was not what Star was expecting? What if Georgia herself was a disappointment? She had always suspected, somewhere deep in her heart, that this might be so. After all, Star had left and never come back. Why else would Star have left her behind when she disappeared? The thought of being a disappointment to her mother filled her with anxiety. Somewhere inside she still felt like that little girl, waiting at thewindow each evening at bedtime for her mother to return, eyes glued to that long, dusty stretch of driveway, yearning with every fiber of her little lonely being to know somewhere out there her mother still thought of her, still loved her. And yet she was not that little girl now. She was a grown woman who had learned years ago how to navigate a world filled with disappointments and questions left unanswered, but still she carried the ache of her mother’s abandonment and broken promises in the softest part of her heart, nestled somewhere between anger and grief.
Georgia leaned her head against the car window and watched the scenery blur by, sending a little prayer heavenward. “Please let this go well with Star,” she murmured. She desperately wanted Star to like her, for this reunion to be a happy one. If it didn’t work, she had nowhere else to go. It made her feel vulnerable, to know so much was riding on such a huge unknown.
All too soon, they pulled up in front of a little white farmhouse with a steep green-gabled roof. Behind the house spread a beautiful bay of blue-gray water, ringed by evergreens. The house had a white picket fence lined with lavender bushes in full, riotous purple bloom. It was picturesque and serene. She loved it instantly.
Next to the road stood a small, simple wooden farm stand. A few jars of honey and some wildflower bouquets in Mason jars sat on a counter underneath. A sign hanging on a sturdy metal box said:
PAY HERE
HONEY $15/BOUQUETS $12
BE HONEST. KARMA’S A BITCH
“Is this it?” Georgia asked.
“Sure is,” the cab driver confirmed. “This is Star Stevens’splace. Used to be Justine Hardy’s place too, till Justine passed away. Cancer, I think it was, a few years back.” He turned to look at Georgia in the back seat. “Good folks, both her and Star. My wife likes to buy Star’s honey and her heirloom tomatoes. Says she’s got the greenest thumb on the island.”
That information seemed reassuring, though Georgia wondered who Justine was. She guessed she’d find out eventually. Georgia got out and paid the driver, tipping generously even though the cost was already eye-watering. He unloaded her suitcases and shook her hand.
“Enjoy your time on the island. It’s a special place,” he said, then drove away in a puff of white dust, leaving her standing at the front gate, suddenly unsure. A moment later, her hesitation was broken by the sound of frantic barking as a streak of yellow shot from around the back of the house and cleared the gate in a single great bound. Georgia shrieked, throwing her hands up in self-defense as a large, barrel-chested yellow lab skidded to a stop at her feet. The dog jumped up and placed its paws on her chest, then began industriously licking her chin with a very pink, very wet tongue.
“Pollen! Pollen! Down, girl. Off! Off!” A wiry woman with long spirals of gray hair flew from around the side of the house in pursuit of the dog, scolding in a stern tone. Her commands had no visible effect on the animal, who was licking every square inch of Georgia’s jaw and neck as she futilely tried to push the creature off of her.
