All she heard was quiet sobbing on the other end, which made her weep with him. “Oh, Gene, what are we going to do withouther?” Dahlia asked, picking up a small, framed picture of the two of them on her dresser. It was from Dahlia’s sixteenth birthday when Lil made a big fuss with balloons and homemade pastries.
“I don’t know.” He blew his nose, and she imagined him using a crisp white hanky from his pocket. “We’re going to be in each other’s lives. That’s for certain,” he said firmly. “I want to meet my granddaughters.”
“You do?” Her fingers touched her lips. In the back of her mind, she’d hoped out of protection for her own heart that he wouldn’t want to meet. Loving someone, anyone, meant eventually losing them.
“Either you could come here, or if you have a service for Lil, I’d love to come there.”
“Oh, sure, yeah.” Service for Lil. Dahlia hadn’t even thought about it. They’d had something small in Connecticut as per her wishes, but now that didn’t nearly seem enough to honor such a remarkable person.
“Listen, I have an appointment that I’ve got to get to. Can we chat tomorrow? I want to know more about you,” he said.
“Of course. Tomorrow.” She nodded.
“Dahlia, thank you.”
“Of course, Gene,” she said tenderly as her mind whirled with ideas. She hung up and rested the phone on the dresser. A smile tugged at her mouth. That was it. They would have a celebration of life party to honor her. But if she was going to do this, she was going to have to brighten up the place. It needed to match her colorful barn and life. And with that, she grabbed the keys from the dresser and headed to the hardware store.
Dahlia dipped her roller into Tranquility and rolled the pale blue onto the living room walls. With each motion, the cream all butdisappeared. It was like a fresh start. Dahlia didn’t care if it was good for resale. All she cared about was honoring Lil the best way she knew how: by highlighting her optimism and her ability to rise from the ashes and create something beautiful from the pain. Dahlia knew from her past that painting was the best way to do that. Dahlia had painted every room in her old house, even though they’d had a contractor.
Looking at the contrast with the red buffalo-checked chairs, she knew this color would be the perfect backdrop for Lil’s paintings.Feeling a vibration in her pocket, she rested the roller on the tray and answered.
“Hey,” she said.
“Where are you?” Noah asked.
“At home, painting. Why?”
“Wait, didn’t you just repaint everything cream for resale?”
“Well, I changed my mind. I decided something. I’m going to have a celebration of life for Lil here, in the house, and I want the house to reflect her love of color. Right now, it doesn’t.”
“Your house, your rules,” he said, grinning.
“Smart man.” She laughed, lifting her chin in the air.
“Want to meet me at the vineyard a little early?” His voice sounded perky.
Dahlia looked down at her paint-splattered shorts and legs. “How early?”
“Now early? The house crew is at Croteaux. Come on, it will be fun to catch up.”
“Is Josie there?” Dahlia stared at the crack in the floor.
“She’s away at a wedding this weekend. It might be nice for you to get to know them without her.”
“Are they filming?” This show and these friends were still important to him. And he wanted her to meet them. She should go.
“Yeah, I think they are,” he said.
Her neck muscles tightened, and she hesitated. “Noah, I’m sorry, but I think I’ll sit this one out.” There was no way she was walking into that lion’s den as the cameras rolled.“But you go.” Could this really work? They were obviously in two different seasons of their lives.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ve got plenty to do here.” She blew the hair out of her eyes. “Have fun.” No matter what season Noah was in, she wanted him to embrace it. She knew what it felt like to miss out and didn’t want that for him. And whatever was meant to be would be. Dahlia was starting to grasp the idea of faith. But how much she’d lean into it was anyone’s guess.
“Okay, I’ll come by later then,” Noah said.
“I’ll be here.”
