We talked a little while about Paige's daughter's research project, and the building her son had designed that was now under construction in Boston. She had been keeping us up to date with pictures of its progress. It never ceased to blow my mind that people could plan a building down to that level of detail, and then knew where to start in getting it built.
I felt similarly about Grace and Paige's talent with writing books. I touched books every day, but wouldn't have the first idea where to start with one of my own, nor did I care to. I liked reading them, ordering them, stocking them, and getting to know their authors. But I had zero desire to write one of my own.
A half hour later, we had gotten each other all caught up, including a few funny stories about some of Sarah's students at school, and some of the trouble that managed to get them landed in her social work office.
A few minutes later, everyone who was going to book club had arrived and we all headed to the sunroom. Holly's eyes scanned the room. It was a lot to take in. White shutters covered the windows that wrapped around two sides of the room: the courtyard next to the house and the side facing the water. White rattan furniture was spread around in a square, offering everyone a place to sit on cozy teal, plush cushions. A glass-topped table was placed in the center of the couches, and it was already piled high with glasses, snacks, and books.
"Shall we begin?" asked Paige as everyone took their seats.
After book club concluded and we had said our goodbyes and climbed into the Audi, I was curious to hear what Holly had thought of it.
"Well?" I asked as she put on her seatbelt.
She flipped the mirror down and checked for food in her teeth.
"Phew! I took one more bite of Sarah's spinach dip before we left and was so self conscious the whole time I was standing there talking to Grace. I thought for sure I had a whole spinach leaf in between my front teeth!" She ran her tongue over her teeth as if to check again. "But, I loved it! I skimmed the book before we left but after hearing the questions people asked, I'm definitely going to?—"
Holly let out an ear-piercing scream and started thrashing around in her seat.
"Something's on me! Something's on me!" she shrieked as I saw a tiny green lizard jump from her shoulder to the gear shifter between us, onto my leg, then the window, and as quickly as he appeared he was gone.
I looked over to my left to find Grace standing next to my car shaking her head. "I tried to warn you!"
"Shush, you," I said to her. "It's just a lizard Holly," I said in my most reassuring voice.
Holly was already standing next to the car shaking like a chihuahua at the vet. "Is it gone? Are there more? I'll just walk. How far is it from here?"
I laughed momentarily until I saw the panic on her face. "It's ok. He's gone. They're more afraid of us than we are of them. He wouldn't bite you or anything, he was just trying to get home." I looked up and pointed. "He probably came out of this tree."
"Disgusting," she said with a shiver.
After five minutes of trying to convince her that it wasprobablythe only lizard in the car, we were headed home. Holly gripped the door handle the entire drive as if she might possibly run from the vehicle if another lizard made an appearance. When we pulled into the garage at home, she jumped out and ran inside, and when I followed her in a minute later, I could already hear the shower running.
"Looks like she's officially a Floridian," I said to Eden as I let her out the back door. "At least it wasn't in her shirt!"
8
HOLLY
"You sure about this, hon?" The stylist—Marnie, according to her name tag—held up a strand of my boring brown hair, examining it in the fluorescent lights of the salon. "It's a big change."
"I'm sure," I said, meeting her eyes in the mirror with more confidence than I felt. "The pinker the better."
Aunt Elyse stood a few feet away, flipping through a magazine but obviously listening. She'd raised her eyebrows when I'd shown her the Pinterest photos of what I wanted, but she hadn't said no. She'd just asked if I was sure, and when I'd nodded, she'd made the appointment.
I still wasn't used to that—to being asked what I wanted, to having my answers taken seriously.
"Well, with your natural color, we'll need to lighten it first," Marnie explained, running her fingers through my hair. "And there's upkeep to consider. The pink will fade pretty quickly, especially if you swim a lot."
"Ok. What about salt water?"
"Salt water will fade it too," she warned. "You'll need to comeback for touch-ups every few weeks if you want to maintain the color."
I glanced at Aunt Elyse, suddenly worried about the cost. Hair dye wasn't cheap, and touch-ups meant more money. Money they'd be spending on me, when they were already paying for everything else I needed.
As if reading my mind, Aunt Elyse looked up from her magazine. "If this is what you want, we'll make it work. Maybe you can put some of your bakery earnings toward the touch-ups."
Relief loosened the knot in my chest. "Deal."
