“Maybe a little,” Edith answered honestly.
“Would you like me to tell you a story?”
Edith smiled. “I would like that so very much.”
Wind howled and debris flew, children wailed and toilets flushed. But over the noise of it all, the ping of the water on the slate and copper roof, combined with the slow cadence of Cornelia’s voice, had a tranquilizing effect. And as the floodwaters reached the paws of the massive lions that kept watch at the front steps of Biltmore, Edith, who hadn’t slept properly in days, drifted off, if only for a moment.
She dreamed of being that brave bride again, that magical veil atop her head, the man she would come to love smiling at her warmly, keeping her safe. Then she saw herself placing that same veil atop her beautiful daughter’s head. It felt like a symbol of what she hoped to give her, a passing of the torch. When Cornelia, in Edith’s dream, handed the veil back to her, Edith startled awake, her heart racing. As she reoriented herself, remembering where she was, she saw the smallest sliver of late-afternoon light peeking through the window. The weather had broken; the storm was over.
Slowing her breathing, steadying herself, she felt like maybe it had all been a bad dream. Either way, once again, they had made it through. And that was something to be grateful for.
JULIASoggy Dollar
Ihad told myself I wouldn’t stay with Conner all day. But really, when was I ever going to get the chance to go to Soggy Dollar Bar again? There was no rush, was there? And theydidhave the best Painkillers in the entire world. (The rum drink, not the prescriptions.) Plus, the waiter had finally removed the goat when he brought our lobster rolls, so I could actually see Conner across the low table.
Nothing makes you dive right into a date and forget that the man you’re with is one of your heroes quite like when said man drops sauce-covered lobster out of the bottom of his bun right onto his white T-shirt, glops it up with his finger, and doesn’t seem to notice the massive stain he leaves behind. He was still about the cutest thing I’d ever seen. And, what’s more, he was easy to be with. We’d been sitting at this bar for over an hour talking about everything—friends, life, funny stories. Like we’d known each other forever.
When Conner asked “What’s next for you?” I didn’t even feel panicky.
“Is it weird that my line of sight doesn’t extend beyond the next week?”
“We could always steal the yacht,” he said seriously.
I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. “Totally. We’d be completely inconspicuous in a hundred-foot yacht and the crew wouldneverthink to radio us in.”
“Right,” he agreed. “I’m sure they wouldn’t. But we’d have some provisioning issues pretty quickly, and I can’t go a day without caviar, so…”
We both smiled.
“What are you working on now?” I asked.
“At this particular moment, I’m working on a short story, not a building.”
“Do you write?”
He took the last bite of his lobster roll and swallowed. “I haven’t written anything yet, but in this story there’s this devilishly handsome architect who escapes to the British Virgin Islands where he meets a stunning, mysterious woman who has just left her fiancé at the altar. He only has a few days to convince her to keep this thing going when they return home.” He paused. “Okay. Now you fill in the holes of how he helps her do that.”
It was nonsense. We’d known each other about a minute, and there was no future here. But, God, it was flattering. After the heaviness of Hayes and the breakup and, really, just the last few years of feeling like I’d been stuck in a glass elevator that I couldn’t break out of, I was finally having fun.
“The heroine of that story sounds amazing,” I teased. “Brilliant,unassuming, gorgeous without being too caught up in her looks.”
He nodded earnestly. “She is. She really is.”
“Seriously, though, my grandmother has a really cool little cabin in Asheville, and I’m thinking maybe I’ll go there for a while.”
“And do what?”
I shrugged.
“Forgive me if I’m overstepping,” he said, “but if you love architecture so much, you know you couldbean architect…”
“Well, I technically have a degree in architecture.”
He furrowed his brow. “And you don’t want to be an architect anymore, but you acted like I was Bradley Cooper when you met me?”
I felt my face redden with embarrassment. “Was it that bad?”
“Well…”
