I nod. “Understood.”
SKYE
Ihead straight for my computer. We kissed, andohwhat a kiss. It was the kind of kiss Shakespeare writes sonnets about, the kind of kiss Nora Ephron puts at the end of the movie. And I want more. When Margie offered me the room tonight, I really thought about taking her up on it. I could have peeled that sweater off Miles and run my hands down his muscular stomach…
Words fly from my fingertips with light tippity taps. By the time I head to bed, I’ve made a good amount of progress on my project. Most of them are words like provocative, titillating, sultry, and—my absolute new favorite—velvety.
I go to bed feeling like a kid before the first day of school, equal parts excited and nervous about what the next day will bring.
In the morning, I write until the sun is just starting to peak above the hills, and I know if I wait any longer, the chickens will morph into even scarier demons, like gremlins that have gotten wet. I’m just slipping on my wellies when Ava comes running down the stairs in tight jeans, high tan leather boots, and a shiny red bomber jacket.
“Skye.” She stops once she gets down the stairs, not a hint out of breath, not a hair out of place. “I was hoping to tag along this morning.”
“You want to come with me to tend to the animals?”
She smiles, and it’s so bright you’d think I’d asked if she wants to get champagne cocktails. “Yes. I’d love to. I’ve never really been around a farm—well, I’ve hung out with horses, but not anything else.”
I slip into my other boot, then put on my coat. We go out into the cold morning, so cold I can see my own breath. The pale-yellow light of the sun is just starting to slice through the gray clouds. I inhale deeply, smelling the grass wet with dew, the dirt, and moss. The air is at once floral and earthy, with a slight briny scent underneath. It smells like home.?
Ava is watching me, smiling to herself. She looks away when we lock eyes. “You really love this place, don’t you?”?
Not wanting to speak, I nod, suddenly feeling silly for?a lump in my throat and the tear in the corner of my eye. It’s true I do love it here, but I can’t deny that part of me really wants to spread my wings and see what else is out there. Just because New York was overwhelming doesn’t mean that I want to stay in the place where I’ve lived most of my life. But I can’t leave Dad alone in this big castle. What if something happened? Once I’m a bit more composed, I say, “Most of the time.”
As we head toward the coup, Ava shakes her head. “I’m jealous. I’ve never felt that way about a place before. Well, maybe my grandparents' house, but I didn’t spend much time there. I moved a lot as a kid. Then I ended up in LA at eighteen, stars in my eyes and not a dime in my pocket.”?
“You moved there by yourself?” I don’t know why, but I assumed Ava came from a Hollywood family, and acting was something of an over-glorified hobby for her while she had her family’s money to fall back on.?A completely unfair and unfounded assumption I’m seeing now.
“Yeah. As soon as I graduated, I got on a bus from Montana. No friends there, just this feeling.” She motions at her chest. “I knew it would all turn out okay.”?
I smile, having a new outlook on Ava. “And it did.”?
Ava only half smiles as she mirrors my movements, scooping the chicken feed and sprinkling it over the ground. “After a few really terrible years, it did.”
I’m about to ask more, but Ava tries to pet one of the chickens, and it screeches at her so loud that Ava screams, and I erupt into giggles. That sends Ava into a fit of laughter as well.
We go through the rest of the chores fairly quickly, with Ava asking me about the details of some of the tasks and about Scottish words for things. I’m surprised she is so at ease with chores. She doesn’t flinch about mucking out into the mud to tend to the cattle, she doesn’t balk at the landmines when we look after the horses… Aside from her scream at the demon chickens, you would never know she hadn’t worked on a farm her whole life.
Even when it starts to drizzle on us, she doesn’t suggest heading in or calling it a day. It’s not at all how I thought she would be.
After all the chores are done, we head into the castle. I’m slipping off my boots when Ava surprises me once again by throwing her tiny, but extremely strong arms around me in a hug. “Thank you. Can I shadow you again sometime?”
“Of course.”
Ava runs upstairs.
I head to the kitchen in need of another cup of coffee before my bike ride.
I stop in the doorway when I hear tinkling laughter, like a fork tapping fine China. My father is talking, and Thora Townsend,theThora Townsend, is holding a cup of coffee and giggling—actually giggling.
They are sitting at our kitchen table, carrying on like old friends. In fact, they seem to be flirting. I can’t wrap my head around it. Thora Townsend is a proper movie star. She’s won a pile of Oscars over her career, which is long and varied. My favorite film of hers when I was a kid was a fantasy series in which she played the White Queen. But she’s most well-known for her perioddramas. And here my father is, chatting her up like they're at the pub.
I’m not angry on behalf of my mother. Mom’s been gone a good six years now. My dad deserves company if he wants some, but a movie star of all people? Guilt coats my throat as I remember my current fling with a movie star. But that’s different.
I enter the room and head straight for the coffee.
“Ah, pet. Have you met Thora?”
Thora gives me a half wave. “Good morning.”
