“I thought you ran it, since it’s called C.O.R.A.”
I blink a few times. “I don’t run it.” I remain vague, because Andrew may reconsider his collaboration with a woman who either has memory loss or is completely oblivious.
“Shit, I hope I didn’t spoil any surprises.”
I laugh, sounding only slightly deranged. “It’s too soon to talk about the release event anyway.”
“I need you to approve these changes to the layout.” Tessa pushes blueprints and spreadsheets in front of me as soon as I enter.
“Hello to you, too.”
I plop down on one of the two chairs left in the place. The space has been stripped to its bare bones.
I spent all my childhood birthdays here. I drank my first Zinfandel here. I poured myself into this place for years.
But it’s like my memories belong to a different space. It’s unrecognizable. Yes, it’s still under construction, but it’s been reshaped, changed, and… improved. It will take a moment before I find my place here again.
“Hello.” Tessa sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve been here since six o’clock, and I need to move on with these. What do you think?”
I’m kind of grateful she wants my opinion, but also annoyed. Her enthusiasm doesn’t reach me. It kills the creative flow that carried me from my lunch with Andrew.
I entered the bistro eager to share my news with my sister, and instead I’m being pulled into this. Imean, it’s my business and my job, so why does it feel like a distraction? Like a nuisance?
The idea squeezes at my stomach, but it’s more because the whole concept of this business lingers in the past.
“What am I looking at?” I squint at the drawings in front of me.
“Jesus, don’t sound so enthusiastic,” Tessa huffs, but immediately launches into a detailed explanation of the proposed changes.
“I didn’t know we would remodel the whole place. We hired Gina to help us with publicity, profitability, and reopening. This is way above and beyond—”
“Cora, Cora, Cora.” She sighs. “We’ve been closed for weeks now, so why not spruce up this place to its maximum potential?”
“What would Dad say?”
As the question falls between us, I realize I asked on autopilot, not because it matters or because he cares, but because somewhere deep down, I still live the reality of preserving his place, his legacy. Of him caring about it.
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not coming back. Besides, you haven’t visited him since you learned about the real reason behind our parents’ break-up, so I’m not sure why you ask.”
Yeah, I haven’t found it in me to face him yet. It’snot even about forgiveness. He broke our family and has lived with the consequences ever since. I don’t need to add my disappointment to it.
I forgave him, I think, but I still can’t go there and just pretend things are what they used to be. Nothing is what it used to be.
“You’re right. I think these are great. Let’s move forward with them.”
“I’m going to visit him later today. Do you want to come?”
I should. I really should. But today has been wonderful so far, and I’m not ready yet.
“I still have a lot of unpacking to tackle.” It’s not a lie. Nor is it a good excuse, but here we are.
“Okay, but go see him sooner rather than later.” Tessa, who’s spent about a tenth of the time with him I have, sounds all sensible and concerned.
Maybe this project did change her in a good way. And maybe that is the best legacy from what Dad started.
“You know what. I’ll go with you.”
The visit is like any other, and completely different. Dad is quiet, deep in his own world, and I, for once, don’t feel the heavy duty of pulling him out.
