Page 99 of What Happens at Nightfall

“I’m not sure I would know what a supernatural talent looks like,” Kimmy admitted. “It’s all mixed up in my head with books and movies and séances and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Crossing your palm with silver and doing handsprings at vampires. Oh, and people guessing which card someone is holding.”

“I don’t think that’s what Adam means.” A rainbow in her hands, Adam had said. Her mother, drunk on light. Jacinta Piatti had been a seamstress, painting pictures with thread. Her grandmother had been a budding opera singer.

Jess wasn’t sure where she was going with any of this, other than a vague idea that maybe, like the Grinch discovering Christmas didn’t come in boxes and bags, maybe magic didn’t come with wands and pointy hats. Maybe it was something to do with finding light and creating beauty.

“Do you think it’s weird that my mother has had so many people come to her as unknowns and go on to be huge successes? I guess it could just be a good eye—the ability to spot talent—”

“Or something about your mom that inspires people to do better? You know . . . it was your mom who gave me the idea for that first book.”

“Really? I never knew that.”

Kimmy concentrated on shaking crumbs out of the folds of her long, pleated skirt. “It was when I was back in California for Christmas when Petunia was three months old. I was so low, Jess.”

When Jess remembered that Christmas, it was Petunia in an array of adorable onesies, Kimmy proudly showing her off. “You seemed so happy.”

“Happy?” Kimmy snorted. “There I was, with a baby, exhausted. Jeremy was a first-year associate and working all the time. I was buried in diapers, useless, feeling like my education had been for nothing, that you were right—and my mother was right—and I’d thrown everything away for always.”

“No one thought that,” said Jess guiltily. She had totally thought that. She had veered between judgmental and jealous.

Kimmy folded the pleats of her skirt together. “My adviser told me if I left I’d never come back. She was pissed at putting all that time and money into me—we were all on full stipend and I’d gone and wasted a spot that someone serious could have used to become a real scholar instead of dropping out to follow a man.” The pain was still raw in Kimmy’s voice, after all those years. “But your mom—she told me about giving up her PhD when you were a baby and finding a new path, and how it had all worked out better than anything she could have planned.”

“She said that?” Jess’s mother had never reproached her for being born—but they weren’t Gilmore Girls. Jess had always known she was an inconvenience.

“She said that. Then she asked if I’d ever thought of turning my dissertation notes into a book. Not a scholarly book, but a popular book. Something without jargon or literature reviews or any of the bits that were bogging me down. Just the fun stuff, she said. She said, ‘If you write it, I’ll read it.’” Kimmy blinked rapidly, scrubbing at her eyes. “Oh, crackers, now I’m crying.”

“Oh, crackers?”

“Don’t you dare mock me,” said Kimmy thickly. “Davy repeats everything I say. Last week I got a call from the teacher because he dropped a block on his foot and shouted, ‘Oh, bugger damn!’”

Jess laughed so hard she snorted Danish up her nose. “Oh, goodness, that hurts.”

Kimmy whipped a tissue out of her pocket. “Blow.”

Jess blew. She wiped her streaming eyes with the back of her hand and looked at her best friend. “I never realized you were so unhappy.”

“I didn’t want you to realize I was unhappy. And I’m fine now—better than fine.” Kimmy reached out and squeezed Jess’s hand. “It’s okay. I mean, the day-to-day is still hard. Jeremy is never home and I’m always overwhelmed and behind deadline and just when I think I’m going to catch up, one of the kids gets sick and I’m behind again.”

“And I make you do bizarre research for me and whine at you,” said Jess contritely.

Kimmy waved that off. “You were a preexisting condition. And you really don’t ask for that much. You were very low maintenance for a very long time.”

“Thank you?”

“I used to worry that you weren’t melting down on me more. You were so focused. It wasn’t natural. Office, gym, office. It made the rest of us look bad.”

Jess looked down at her old black pants, emblem of the world she’d thought she’d wanted. “I think I had an idea that life was supposed to be a certain way and if I did the right things it would turn out the right way. I just had to keep applying myself hard enough.”

“Yes, but what is the right way? My right way isn’t your right way.”

“Thank you, Yoda.”

Kimmy stuck out her tongue at her. “If I were being Yoda, I’d say something like ‘Finding happiness you will be.’”

“Adam invited me to Nightfall.” As soon as she said it, Jess realized just how much she’d given herself away, immediately linking happiness with Adam, like one of those old word-association tests.

“Nightfall?” Kimmy asked.

“It’s some big party at the cemetery.” Jess had googled it, of course. “After dark. They make trails lined with candles with different performances at different locations. Light shows and music and that sort of thing, but scattered throughout the cemetery.”