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Genevieve closed her eyes. Helen was right. Their lives could change in an instant. Genevieve had learned that hard lesson early when her husband died from a heart attack at the ripe old age of thirty-nine. None of us were guaranteed another day, and advancing age made that all the more apparent.
If she didn’t make that South Pacific trip now, she might never see that part of the world.
And yet she’d dreamed of nana playdates since Willow and Andy announced their engagement. She wanted to make memories with her grands while she had the chance, memories that would live on in the little ones’ minds long after she was gone.
She wanted both. She wanted to be Supernanaandthe new Genevieve she’d been becoming over the past year. While the nickname Vivie didn’t suit, the spark of newness and life it represented did. But it didn’t end at Nana and Genevieve/Vivie, did it? She had the “mom” part of her to consider, too. Mom could also use some TLC.
Genevieve desperately hoped that Willow’s presence in Lake in the Clouds would lead to a continued improvement in their mother/daughter relationship. She loved her daughter wholeheartedly and wished desperately to reclaim that closeness they once shared. Things were better than they’d been, but issues remained. For instance, Genevieve still wasn’t sure what she’d done to drive the wedge deeper between them when Andy died. She’d like to know, but she guessed she didn’tneedto know. She simply wanted it fixed.
She couldn’t fix it if she was in Bora-Bora.
“Oh, Helen. I’m so torn.”
“I understand.” Helen gave her shoulders a shrug. “Honestly, I do. I’m trying to make the point that I don’t care if you decide you want to babysit—excuse me, have a playdate—eight hours every day. Just make certain that Genevieve is doing what is right for her, rather than Mom and Nana doing what her family needs of her.”
Her sister understood. Genevieve’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re the only person who sees all three of me.”
Helen quipped, “The three faces of Genevieve. Ooh, someone should make a movie.”
Recognizing the reference to a 1950s movie classic,The Three Faces of Eve, Genevieve gave her head a toss. “Now, there’s a great idea, although the plot needs tweaking. Instead of strangling her daughter, the protagonist chokes her sister.”
“Made you murderous, have I?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Genevieve heaved a sigh. “I hear you, Helen, and I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but I’m so mixed up right now. The ground is shifting beneath my feet. It’s a question of roles and reinvention and balance. Who do I want to be now that I’ve finally grown up? I thought I had it figured out six months ago, but I think the only thing I’ve figured out is that I’m a snowflake.”
Helen spurted a laugh. “You? A snowflake? In what universe?”
Her gaze on her grandchildren, Genevieve corrected. “Actually, I’m a clump of snowflakes. I’m a snowball.”
“You’d better get back into the car, Frosty. You’ve been out in the cold too long, and your brain has frozen.”
“Not frozen. Transformed. I’ve transformed. Spring and summer and autumn are long gone. Now I’m winter. I’m thousands of individual snowflakes clinging together.”
Her sister made an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
Warming to the imagery, Genevieve ignored her. “But here’s the deal, Helen. My winter is in a constant state of change. When the sun comes out, I start to melt, which changes my shape. When another cold front rolls in, I refreeze. Then it snows, and I catch some more flakes. Right now, I’m a big fat snowball perched on an incline.I’m teetering, and I could start rolling any time. Straight downhill and headed for a tree trunk. No, wait. Make that a gravestone. I’m a snowball ready to roll into a grave marker.”
Clapping her hands together, Genevieve added, “Splat.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m honestly a bit concerned at this point. Hypothermia can do strange things to a person.” Helen turned toward the children and called, “Emma? Drew? Y’all finish up your snowman. Everybody needs to get into the car to warm up. Your mom will join us soon.”
More quietly, she murmured, “I hope. I will start honking the horn if Willow doesn’t show up soon.”
“I am a little chilled,” Genevieve admitted. Chilled and confused, which was only natural, considering that her life-role desires were pulling her in different directions.
Helen grumbled. “Too bad we don’t have a Saint Bernard with a cask of brandy in the backseat.”
“I could use a drink. And someone warm to snuggle up against.”
“Now, there’s the most sensical thing you’ve said in minutes, Genevieve!” Helen exclaimed. “Why don’t you call Gage and invite him to dinner?”
“I’m not going to date Gage Throckmorton. It’s only been a year and a half since he lost his wife. He’s not ready for a new relationship.”
“I don’t know. Men tend to move faster than women following a loss.”
“Well, romance is the last thing on my mind right now.”
Helen shot her sister a meaningful look. “Maybe it shouldn’t be.”
