Goldie strained to see more of the tree-lined lane that led to Nora House.
“How many times did I ride my bike up here?”
“Countless.”
Goldie and Libby’s history went back the farthest of the Sandbar Sisters. They had run around together as soon as they were old enough to drop training wheels. Their families had owned places here in what seemed like the “olden days” to both of them.
Nora House was a second home to Goldie. The drive curved in a familiar way. The dark tree cover opened up to the house and the darkly shimmering lake beyond.
“Wow, she’s a beauty, even in the dark.”
“Thank you. Aunt Emma was going to get me back here, one way or another, and once I got here, I was so angry with myself for forgetting how much I loved it.”
“It was fun, those days,” Goldie said. But she had no regrets leaving her small town roots for her big fancy life. No, not one bit.
But still, her heart felt warm, knowing she’d get a chance to revisit some of the good times here for a few days at least.
“Which one of these do you need?” Libby asked Goldie.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.”
Goldie was used to bags appearing in her room. She was accustomed to linens being turned down and counters being wiped, all without her participation. This had been the case for decades now.
She sourced out the day-to-day chores of life to focus on her career. This career focus included maintaining the illusion of her appearance with workouts, facials, injections, and the occasionalsurgical tweak. She filled her days preparing for a role, performing the role, promoting the movie, or negotiating for the next role. Her nights were about charity events and proper sleep.
Getting her own bag from the back of a car? She had people for that. She wasn’t ashamed of that. She had designed her life around her career. But here, now, it made her look a little silly.
Goldie grabbed the bag that had her casual clothing. They were packed to her specifications, so she knew which one contained her skin care, her supplements, and her other toiletries.
“Ah, well, if Tally did the packing right, this one would do. Casual attire is stillde rigueurin Irish Hills?” Goldie asked.
“Quite. I’d loan you some cut-offs and a sweatshirt, but I’m twice your size.”
“You’re trim and model lanky. I wish I had your height. I swear those bro dude directors won’t let me do action because I’m short. No amount of Botox can fix that situation.”
“Do you want to do action?”
“No, but still, it’s the principle.”
Goldie gripped the two bags, and they walked into Nora House. Outdoor lanterns glowed, and a light was on in the foyer to guide them.
“Oh, Libby, it’s so perfect.”
“Thank you, Aunt Emma kept it up well. I have a lot to do, but saving Irish Hills is first; renovating this ancient kitchen is second.”
“No, I love it just this way, the way we remember it.”
“Well, the Wi-Fi is updated, so that’s good if you need to check-in, or maybe it’s best not to look for a day or so.”
“Or ever again.”
“It will blow over; this trending stuff comes in and goes out before you can blink.”
“I hope.”
“Meantime, I’ll show you to your room.”
They went through the beautiful main sitting room. Wall-to-wall windows made it easy to see how Libby’s automotive mogul great-grandfather knew this was the best spot in the county for a house.
