Valerie was a firm believer in the talk-it-out school of conflict resolution. She herself liked talking about her feelings although she usually didn’t, since getting into her problems was often boring or uncomfortable for others to deal with. Then she reconsidered. She also believed that everyone was different, which made for an interesting gap—how could something be good for everyone if people had different needs? Nico was an internal guy. It made sense for him to work through things for himself first, without having to talk it out.
“Okay,” she said.
“What do you mean okay?”
“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. That’s fine.”
“Not according to my mother and sisters.”
“Well, I’m not them, but I’ll be here if you want to talk eventually.”
Nico nodded. “Do you want to talk about your mom and Penny?”
“No,” she said. He was wrong about her feelings about the Badgertons, obviously, but there was no point dredging it up when it looked like they were about to get along again.
That was enough for now. They began to make conversation, carefully offering neutral comments about the drive and whether they should stop at a hand-drawn sign that said “$5 jam in shed” before deciding it was a trap. Valerie did her best to act cheerful, but she hated this cautious polite distance that lasted through lunch at a burger truck and a quick walk to see an unimpressive waterfall.
It was her own fault, though, so she couldn’t complain.
“Goderich,” said Nico as they drove in.
“‘The prettiest town in Canada,’” she read off the sign as they passed. “According to who, I wonder?”
“Queen Elizabeth II,” said Nico. “Although she never set foot here.”
Yesterday, this would have been something they could laugh about, but Nico spoke in the dispassionate tone of a tour guide.
They passed through an unusual octagon-shaped downtown to a neighborhood of manicured lawns and white picket fences that could have been taken from a painting. Valerie opened her mouth and shut it. Nico wouldn’t care about her musings about how perfect this town was. She was getting nervous, and not only about how she’d ruined the effortlessness she’d had with Nico. In a few minutes they might have the answer to the mystery of Roger’s life. They might be face-to-face with Yvette.
Once that happened, her time with Roger would be done, and her fake-daughter services terminated. No more Mariposas. No more Badgertons, except explaining how she’d lied to them. No more pretty designer clothes. After her initial excitement had passed, she’d known she couldn’t take them home. A gift under false pretenses was no gift, and it would be wrong for her to keep them.
No more Nico? Although he didn’t seem like he’d care now. Valerie felt like crying. God, she was such a mess.
They entered a street with faded paint and older cars. Valerie started counting down the houses out loud but stopped after the first two. Nicowouldn’t want to hear it. She finished silently to herself.Thirty-three. Thirty-one.There it was.Twenty-nine.
Nico parked and they stared at the small but comfortable house, with an apple tree in the front and some juniper bushes along the porch. Vibrant orange daylilies poured over a short wooden fence to tangle over the sidewalk.
“Does she know we’re coming?” Valerie asked.
Nico shook his head, but pointed at the driveway. “Someone’s home though.”
Valerie grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go.” Then she stopped, uncertain. “I mean, or you. I can stay in the car.”
Nico took his hand off the wheel. “Enough.”
“Enough of what?”
“This.” He waved between them. “This awkwardness.”
She cringed in her seat. “Sorry.”
Nico looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “Valerie. Are you upset with me?”
“No.” She wasn’t either. She was only worried about misstepping again. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
She regarded him doubtfully because while she believed him, that left a swath of other negative emotions that he might be feeling. Antipathy. Irritation. Overall exasperation. “Okay.”
