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“You know,” Estelle began tentatively, “it just occurred to me that we’ve never talked about this. And I don’t know why.”
Katrina placed a mug in front of Estelle and perked up her ears. “We’re from that generation,” Katrina said. “The one that doesn’t talk about our problems.”
Estelle laughed wryly and blew at the steam over her tea. “My father was an alcoholic, too. Did I ever tell you that?”
Katrina’s heart stopped beating. She gaped at Estelle. “Oh, my goodness. Estelle. I didn’t know.”
Katrina suddenly felt like the worst kind of fool.
“He left after my mother was diagnosed with cancer,” Estelle went on. “His addiction no longer fit into our lives because our lives got much more serious in an instant. And yeah. If I’m honest with myself, I hardly ever missed him when he was gone.”
Katrina blinked back tears. Of course, she’d read Estelle’s Christmas novel, which included an alcoholic father. But it had never occurred to her that Estelle’s father had been the same as hers.
Katrina ached. Estelle could have been her support system. But they were old now. Too much damage had been done.
“None of your children,” Katrina stuttered, remembering. “None of them struggle like your father. And my father.” She paused, then added, “And Sophie.”
“And for that, I’m grateful,” Estelle said. She paused for a long time before continuing. “But remember, Katrina, addiction isn’t a choice. It’s an illness. Sophie got a bad hand. And right now, she’s doing her best with that hand. The girl is a success story. She’s remarkable.”
Katrina was unable to look at Estelle. She sat down across from her and gazed out the window as the night swallowed the gray day. According to gossip, Sophie and Patrick’s wedding was to be held at the beginning of April—only a month away. She didn’t have much time to make amends.
“I do know that,” Katrina offered. Tears swam down her cheeks. “I just can’t help but think too much has happened between us. I’ve said too many horrible things.”
“Katrina, it’s not too late,” Estelle said softly.
Katrina forced her eyes back to Estelle’s. “How do you know?” she asked, feeling like a child.
“Because Sophie is a bright and loving woman,” Estelle said. “She knows how much pain you’ve been through. And she knows that love means forgiving and forgiving, again and again.”
Katrina’s throat nearly closed.
“But we never forgave our fathers,” she pointed out softly.
Estelle raised her shoulders. “My father never needed my forgiveness. But Sophie is still here on the island. Her baby is getting bigger every single day. She doesn’t need you, Katrina. She’s too self-sufficient for that. But she does want you by her side. And that’s even better. Don’t you think?”
Chapter Seventeen
After Sophie’s divorce from Jared had officially been confirmed, she’d entered her walk-in closet in a dream-like state and removed her wedding dress from its protective wrapping. Nostalgically, she’d donned the dress and looked at herself in the mirror, marveling that this had been her costume when she’d officially signed herself up for a lifetime with a monster. It was a miracle she’d gotten out. It was a miracle she was only forty-two with, God willing, several decades in front of her—to change, to grow, to become something more than a washed-up woman who’d wasted her life. She’d then unzipped herself from the dress and sold it online for two hundred dollars to a woman who’d called the cut “timeless.” She’d shipped it for free, hoping that the dress would go on to have a better life in Connecticut. The dress had never been the problem, after all. And she no longer believed in curses.
Sophie’s marriage to Patrick would be different. It required a different wedding dress, a different style. The dress Sophie had selected was vintage with pearl buttons up the back and a high neckline, which reminded her of the 1940s with a modern twist. Sam had approved it during an initial shopping outing in February, and now, Sophie, Sam, Hilary, and Ida were all atthe wedding dress shop for a fitting. It was just one month till the wedding. The caterer had been confirmed, and the wedding cakes had been tasted. Nearly all loose ends were tied.
It had been almost too easy. Sophie wasn’t sure whether or not to trust it.
Ida buttoned Sophie up and stepped back to allow Sophie to whirl around, showing off the dramatic flourish of the bottom of the dress. Luckily, the dress poofed out slightly at the waist, which meant Sophie’s pregnant belly could expand as much as it wanted to before the wedding.
Ida, Hilary, and Sam gasped.
“You’re stunning, Soph,” Hilary said.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Sam said, clasping her hands.
“Totally agree. It’s the perfect choice,” Ida said. “And you know what? I think I love it eight thousand times more than your first one.”
Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised that Ida had brought up her first wedding. She was immediately intrigued. “Really?”
Ida nodded, her smile falling. She looked as though she’d waded into the deep end of the pool without realizing it and was now unable to swim back.
“Why?” Sophie probed.
