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On top of that, going away would distract the three of them from Lucy’s departure.
“I have to talk this over with my daughters,” Janine said. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Great,” Mike answered. “And congratulations. Venice!”
As Janine hung up the phone, she rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She couldn’t believe the lack of tact of her lawyer— congratulating her over the death of someone she hadn’t ever known.
“What’s up?” Henry demanded. “That conversation sounded serious.”
Janine explained what she knew: that Teresa had passed away after a long illness and left her villa and estate to Alyssa and Maggie. That there were things to organize abroad, and it was essential that the three of them go and work it all out. As she spoke, Henry’s eyes flickered from turquoise to green from the light of the ocean.
“Venice is incredible,” he breathed. “And those old Italian homes are remarkable! Do you know how old it is?”
“Jack hardly ever talked about her,” Janine reported, “but I always got the sense that Teresa came from a great deal of money— just like everyone in Jack’s world— and that her family was very, very old.”
“Hundreds and hundreds of years,” Henry repeated.
“Uh oh,” Janine said with a laugh. “I see the documentarian coming out in you. You’re always looking for the next story.”
“I know. I know. But the history of Italy is fascinating stuff, and you have a direct link to it. I wish I could sink my teeth into all you’re about to learn.”
“You’re welcome to it,” Janine offered. “If you want to make a documentary about my ex-husband’s late biological mother, go for it.”
Henry winced for a moment before he smoothed out his features, closed his book, and kissed her again. “I have some editing to do on the last shoot. It’ll keep me busy as you gallivant through Venice with your daughters.”
Janine’s heart swelled. By contrast to her late husband, Henry always seemed to understand exactly what she needed when she needed it, regardless of what he wanted.
“Why are you so good to me?” Janine breathed as she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“I should ask you the same thing,” Henry said.
Janine pressed her nose into his chest. “I really will marry you, Henry,” she said softly.
Her heart thudded at how serious she felt about this. When she’d learned of Maxine and Jack’s affair, she’d sworn off love and marriage, assuming herself to be easily manipulated and even stupid for allowing herself to fall for someone like him. But now, just two years older and worlds wiser, she felt more in-tune with her soul and far more willing to forgive herself. It was funny what true love did to you. It gave you space to breathe.
ChapterTwo
The six a.m. yoga session was quieter than usual. Several women at the Katama Lodge and Wellness Spa had checked out yesterday afternoon, headed back to their families, their work responsibilities, and, generally, the stressors that had sent them to the spa in the first place, leaving the Lodge drafty, battening down its hatches for the approaching hurricane season. Nancy Remington, the head yoga instructor and the mother of Janine, the Katama Lodge’s head naturopathic doctor, stretched into a Downward Dog pose, her eyes half-open to watch the eight sleepy women follow her lead. “That’s right,” Nancy said gently. “Really focus on your breathing, here. Give yourself grace.”
The yoga class ended at six-forty-five. Nancy stood at the exit, nodding to the women as they passed, smiling, and wishing them good luck for the rest of their stay. Normally after a session like this, Nancy went to her office, had a cup of coffee, caught up on emails, and prepared for the next yoga session at eight-thirty. But this morning, Nancy was needed back at home.
As Nancy sped through the office, still in her yoga pants, her hair streaming out behind her, her stepdaughter, Elsa, stepped out of her office looking similarly harried. She flashed a smile at Nancy and locked her office door.
“I can’t believe today’s the day,” she said.
Nancy pressed her hand over her heart. “It’s hard to believe.”
“Our girl!” Elsa stepped in line with Nancy, hurrying toward the parking lot. “I take it Maggie isn’t handling it well?”
“Neither of them are,” Nancy said, speaking of her granddaughters, Alyssa and Maggie, who had to say goodbye to Lucy today.
“I’m picking up fresh orange juice on the way,” Elsa said as she opened the door for Nancy. “Need anything else from the store?”
“We should be good,” Nancy said. “See you at home.”
In the front seat of her car, Nancy watched Elsa through the rear-view as she backed through the parking lot and sped out of sight. That summer, Elsa had moved in with her fiancé, Bruce Holland, which had created a distance between Elsa and the rest of the Remington women— probably one that was necessary in many ways. After Elsa’s father, Nancy’s husband, had died, Elsa had been reeling, nursing her wounds in the enormous home in which Neal had raised her and her sister, Carmella. It was invigorating for Nancy to watch Elsa rebuild her life and her heart. But it also made her sad not to have her close. It served as a reminder that Neal was gone, fully gone, and that life had to go on, one way or another, regardless of how Nancy felt about it.
In truth, she was beginning to feel like a little old lady whose story was coming to an end.
