“But I don’t know how we can arrange both refurbishing and running the inn for the next year,” Juliet said.“I mean, my life is in New York.”
“You got away from your super-important life,” Ivy said pointedly, sarcastically.“You made it here for this.”She was implying that Juliet wasn’t as important as she wanted to believe, which couldn’t end well.
“I was only going to be here for two nights tops,” Juliet said, her voice high-pitched.“I have people in New York who count on me.”
It occurred to Celia that she didn’t know a thing about Juliet’s situation.There was no ring on her finger, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a serious partner, someone waiting for her at home.And what about children?Juliet was fashion-thin, a stick.But that didn’t mean she hadn’t once been pregnant and curvy, glowing with a light that came from within her.How Celia wished she could have seen her sisters pregnant, preparing for the next significant phase of their lives.
“I can’t do it myself,” Ivy shot.“I have the flower shop to tend to.I have my children.”
“That’s a good point,” Juliet said.“Can your children help?How old are they?”
Ivy glared at her.“I don’t want to put my children through what we went through.I spent much of my life working at the Bluebell Cove Inn.It was a curse.”
Wren flickered her eyes to Celia.“What about you, Cee?”
Celia filled her lungs and thought about her dinky and dank apartment back in Washington, DC.She thought about Sophie, far away in East Oregon, studying for a career meant to mirror Celia’s own.
“You must have a thousand articles lined up to write.I imagine it isn’t easy for you to spend a long time in a place like this,” Wren offered, not unkindly.“And me, I’m needed back in Europe.People are waiting for me back there.I have work lined up, and yeah…” She shrugged, as though she didn’t have the energy to come up with a better excuse.
Celia tugged her hair into a tiny ponytail and let it fall.It had been a long time since she’d grown her hair long enough for a proper one.Before she could think of an answer to Wren—an impossible answer—Celia’s phone rang.It was Sophie.She leaped to her feet, eager to drop out of the intensity of her sisters’ gazes and hear her daughter’s voice.“I’ll be right back,” she said and stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind her.
“Hi, honey,” she said, her voice overly sweet, perhaps to prove to her daughter how okay she was, how happy it all was back in her hometown.
“Hey, Mom.”Sophie sounded glum and sour, so unlike her usual self.“How’s it going with the aunts?”
“Everything’s okay.A lot of logistical issues to deal with, but we’re managing.”
Sophie groaned.Celia pictured her daughter’s face: those sweet, freckled cheeks, a fold between her brows when she thought too deeply about our troubled world.I raised an idealist, she thought.I should have raised someone who knew how to face the world without wanting to change it.It breeds disappointment every time.She’ll know only hardship, as I have.
“Mom, I didn’t get it,” Sophie said, then burst into tears that made her words incomprehensible.
“Honey, what is it?”Celia was stricken.Ever since Sophie had come of age, it had felt like one accomplishment after another: awards, internships, editorial honors, and the top-tier journalism position at her high school back in DC.
It took ages for Sophie to calm down enough to explain.Apparently, without telling Celia first, Sophie had applied for a summer internship at theWashington Postthat would have propelled her career to new heights.But despite reaching the final round of interviews, Sophie hadn’t secured the internship, and every other option she’d thought up for that summer had also fallen through.Suddenly, her summer was empty, void of meaning, and she felt like a failure.
“I don’t know what to do!”Sophie cried, all-out sobbing by now.“I can’t help but feel that my entire career is over before it even gets started!”
“Honey, these things happen,” Celia said, sitting on the iron chair on the balcony, shivering beneath the moon.She thought of her own recent failures: the articles she’d written that hadn’t been published, the interviews that had fallen through, and what seemed like a worldwide belief that environmental issues were no longer vital or worthy of print.
“Just because you didn’t get this one internship doesn’t mean you aren’t a brilliant journalist,” she continued, although her heart thudded with recognition of the truth.The time of “good” journalism was nearly over.Maybe her daughter should pick another career.Perhaps there was still time to become a doctor or a lawyer or something less cursed.
Sophie wailed with sorrow.“Finals are next week,” she said.“And after that, I have nowhere to be.I can’t stay in Oregon for the whole summer.”
“No!No.You can’t.”It occurred to Celia that if she didn’t do something, she wouldn’t spend any time with Sophie this summer.She’d lose Sophie to the broader world, to her sorrows.“We’ll figure something out, okay?”
“I want to come see you,” Sophie said, her voice timid.“I want to see where you grew up.”
Celia felt it like a punch to the chest.“I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”
“Can’t you stay a little bit longer?”Sophie asked.“I mean, I know you have articles you need to write and things you have to get back to in DC.But couldn’t we have a mini-vacation in your hometown?I never got to meet any of my aunts.I never got to see the inn.”
Celia grimaced and told herself that there were better ways of fixing this than bringing Sophie back to Bluebell Cove—back to the place she swore she’d never return to, the once-home she’d fought tooth and nail to get away from.
“Please, Mom,” Sophie begged, her voice rattling.“I swear, I’ll help you in any way I can.You won’t regret it.”
After another round of begging, Celia promised Sophie she’d consider it.Then she Venmo-ed Sophie money to buy herself some ice cream and told Sophie she loved her.When she returned to Juliet’s hotel room, she found her sisters in the midst of yet another argument about the Bluebell Cove Inn.Nobody wanted to take responsibility.Everyone wanted the money.It was a fickle thing.
Standing over them, her heart pounding, Celia interrupted and said, “I’ll do it.For the summer, I’ll handle it.”And then she collapsed back on the bed next to Juliet, took a big bite of steak, and turned her eyes back to the moon.Her sisters were stunned into silence, watching her.She could feel their expectation for an explanation, but she had no plans to give it.My career is drying up, she wouldn’t tell them.All I have is my daughter, and this is what she wants.
