But what was keeping her from telling her sisters the truth? Why did she insist on hiding from them? Why couldn’t she come out and say that she’d gotten divorced, and that her ex-husband was the worst of all humans because he’d forgotten his daughter’s birthday?
Was there really so much shame in showing your grief?
Ivy and Celia refused to sit down. Their faces were anything but blank. They echoed how enraged they were at Juliet’s secrecy. They echoed worry and fear.
“Juliet,” Ivy breathed, shaking her head. “Why? Why won’t you tell us?”
Juliet let out a strangled laugh.
“You’re far away from anyone you need to impress, honey,” Celia whispered. “We’re not the fashion industry. We’re not city folks. Not anymore.”
“We’re your sisters.” Ivy shrugged. “We’ve seen you at your worst. Celia taught you to ride a bike, you remember that? And I… I don’t know. I saw everything.”
“We know you, Juliet. Maybe we know you better than you want to be known,” Celia continued, flipping her hair. “But gosh, look around you. You’re in Bluebell Cove. We’ve found a way back here, back to each other. Every other person in the world is apt to give up on you. But not us.”
“You need to trust us,” Ivy said quietly. “Please, Juliet.”
Juliet wasn’t sure what to make of this. She tried to focus on her breathing, but it came in gasps.
“We want to help you,” Celia said. “But you have to help us. You have to give us something.”
And then, it spilled out of Juliet, as though she were an overfilled container. “It’s her dad.” But that was all she could muster for now. It surprised nobody when she burst into tears. Ivy and Celia wrapped their arms around her and led her to the porch table, where they doted on her, pouring the wine she’d offered them and touching her hair.
“Honey, it’s okay,” Ivy breathed.
“It’s going to be,” Celia told her, squeezing her hand. “We’re here.”
And eventually, slowly, the rest of it came bubbling up about Alvin’s affair, Juliet’s job loss and fear that she would never make it back into the fashion world, Juliet’s inability to make life in the city work, and on and on. Throughout, Celia and Ivy listened passionately, their eyes enormous as they took it all in.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Juliet offered, swirling her wine in her glass. “Danica is just like me. She wants more than her family can give her. She wants adventure and intrigue. And she hates the prison she feels I’ve built around her. It’s the same way I used to hate Bluebell Cove.”
Ivy smiled and wrapped Juliet’s curl around her ear. It was an act of tenderness that reminded Juliet of their mother, and it took her breath away.
“I know you think I should be harder on her,” Juliet said. “But I don’t know how to. I’m so afraid that she’ll run away from me. I’m so afraid that she’ll…”
But here, she found she couldn’t say Callie’s name aloud. She could feel her sisters’ understanding buzzing between them. But they knew better than to say Callie’s name, too.
Thankfully, Ivy and Celia called their kids to let them know the party was off. They’d be at Aunt Juliet’s for the time being, but they’d be home later. When they hung up, they announced that the kids probably wouldn’t be home till much later, anyway. It was summer in Bluebell Cove, which meant endless hours of beach picnics and swimming and barbecues and sailing. Juliet remembered this from her childhood, of course. But she’d forgotten to romanticize it.
“I wish Danica would open herself up to all that,” Juliet said.
“Oh, come on,” Ivy said, laughing. “You spent a lot of time indoors, too. You and Theo Maddox used to lay around watching movies all summer long.” Again, she didn’t mention Callie.
At this, Juliet’s head rushed with the memory of the Fourth of July, and Celia gasped, as though she’d just remembered something.
“I owe you an apology,” she said to Juliet, her hand over her mouth.
Ivy and Juliet looked at Celia, waiting. Juliet couldn’t imagine what Celia had done. Had she overbooked her hours at the Eco-Lodge? Had she broken something?
“The thing is, yeah. Okay. Your old friend Theo has had some real problems this year with the tourism board,” Celia said, speaking too fast, too frantically. “I was in the back office of city hall the other day, and I overheard that old windbag Calvin Parish giving him a lecture about fixing up his restaurant before the Christmas Festival. You know how Bluebell Cove is about Christmas? It’s like, triple that this year. They’re going all out. Theo’s struggled with his restaurant for years. He doesn’t have a natural business mind, but he’s brilliant in the kitchen.”
Ivy nodded, raising her eyebrows. “We ate there about a month ago. We must have been the only customers he had that night! But it was divine.”
“It really was,” Celia breathed. “The best food I’ve had in a long time. I swear, I wanted to hire him on the spot to work at the Eco-Lodge, but I know he’s too proud for that.”
Juliet’s heart pounded. “I don’t understand. Why are you apologizing?”
Celia grimaced. “The thing is, I sort of said you were good at stuff like that?”
