Everyone chuckled, knowing that Chuck had never bothered himself with any of that. He was lucky in that respect, Estelle thought. Social media was such a minefield.
“And how is Reese?” Sam asked, remembering Reese’s cancer.
“Still in remission,” Estelle said. “Oriana seems happy that she retired early. She keeps things low-key over there, bless her.”
“I never imagined that Oriana would be low-key,” Hilary said. Her own eyes were sorrowful. Estelle knew she was thinking about her husband Marc, who’d recently had open-heart surgery and was moving slower than he ever had. Slow had never been in Marc’s vocabulary. But that was what it meant to be a partner. You were there for the slow times and for the fast.
Darcy admitted that she had to get home to her two kids, and to Steven, who was a brilliant husband but “had his limits when it comes to screaming kids.” She hugged the Coleman women, then departed, leaving Estelle to marvel at the fact that she’d once been a young mother, too. She’d once had to hurry home to take care of Sam, Hilary, and Charlie.
“She’s a good mother,” Estelle murmured. She then turned to Aria, who’d had a baby two years ago now. “So are you. And how is your little guy?”
Aria blushed and spoke animatedly about how happy she was, about how funny her toddler was, about how in love she and her husband were. Everyone was thrilled that they’d decided to grow their family on Nantucket Island so that they could be close to family.
When they spoke of this, Sam’s eyes held a flicker of sorrow. But that was to be expected. Everyone knew how much she missed Rachelle.
There was so little they knew about the girl.
Soon after, Hilary and Aria left, leaving Sam and Estelle on the veranda. Sam fetched them mugs of tea, and they sat under blankets as clouds rolled over and darkened the beach. Sam was now in her fifties, maybe ten years out from retirement, and she was rather newly remarried to a man named Derek, who Roland had really liked and approved of. Over the years, Estelle and Roland had worried desperately about Sam. They’d ached to talk to her again. But everyone had been so prideful, so angry about the past. What a waste it had all been, Estelle knew.
Sometimes she wondered if whatever had happened between Sam, Darcy, and Rachelle was similarly foolish. But how could she ask?
“Did you look at the calendar?” Estelle asked.
Sam sucked in her cheeks. “I did.”
Estelle remained quiet for a moment, unsure of how to suggest what she wanted to.
“I don’t know if I have it in me to do it alone,” Estelle said suddenly, surprising herself.
Sam tilted her head.
“I don’t know if I care to,” Estelle said.
“You want a travel partner?” Sam asked.
Estelle laughed. “I sound like a kid, asking you. I know that.”
“You don’t.” Sam set down her mug and cupped her elbows. “I could come. I don’t know if I could manage to do it the entire time. I’ll have to talk to the other counselors and see what I can rearrange. But tentatively, yes. I’ll come with you.”
Estelle’s smile broke. She was on her feet, her heart pumping. “Oh, Sam. This is incredible.”
Back in the old days, Roland had often been Estelle’s travel buddy during her book tours, waiting at the hotel while she went out with other writers or dining with her, her agent, and her editor, charming them by ordering the best champagne on the menu. Everyone around the world had fallen for Roland. Now, Estelle imagined herself out with her agent, her editor, and Sam, introducing her beautiful daughter, taking her around the world.
It was a fine story. It filled her heart.
Would they have the will to find Rachelle in Rome? Estelle was too frightened to bring it up.
“It’ll be good to get off the island for a little while,” Sam said, her smile slightly uncertain.
“And I’m so ready to get out of this house,” Estelle said.
6
Rome, Italy
It was a week after the fire, and Rachelle was awake early for a run. Snaking her way along the river, past old stone fountains, and through the alleyways before the rest of the city got up and made a mess of things, she sweated and tried to calm her swirling thoughts. Tonight, she had her third shift back in Diana’s kitchen, a space in which she felt comfortable, but a space that didn’t electrify or excite her about her cooking skills. But she needed that paycheck.
Pausing at an outdoor drinking fountain—one not from a different century, thankfully—Rachelle drank water and then walked with her hands on her hips, gasping for breath. When she turned the corner, she stopped short at the sight of a blond woman in her fifties, jogging toward her. She knew it, clear as anything that that woman was her mother. It had to be Samantha Coleman! Rachelle’s face broke into an enormous smile. She nearly called out to her, nearly waved her hand. But then, the woman got closer and revealed herself to be a stranger.Their noses were entirely different, and their foreheads weren’t the same shape. Sorrow dropped through Rachelle. She started to run again, this time faster, angry that she’d let herself get so excited.
