Chapter One
Aria
“Are you here?” August asked.
“Not yet.”
“Uhh.” He grunted into the phone. “When are you gonna get here?”
“Soon, buddy. I’m about an hour away.”
“An hour,” he groaned. “That’ll take forever.”
I laughed. “Go play outside and by the time you build a fairy fort for me to inspect, I’ll be there. Now where’s your mom?”
“She’s sick.”
“What?” My spine stiffened. Clara hadn’t seemed sick when I’d called last night. “What kind of sick?”
“Um . . . coughing sick? When you get here, can we open my present first?”
“Yes, we can open your present first.”
My nephew was five, and I’d missed his birthday. The guilt was real. My attempt to assuage it had resulted in the scooter gift wrapped in the trunk along with a Nintendo Switch game, a puzzle, three books and a remote-control car.
August’s birthdays had always been a priority, but I hadn’t been able to get away from work this year. Summers were a hectic time at The Gallaway for the head groundskeeper. Toss in my latest duties as fill-in general manager for the luxury hotel on the Oregon coast, and even a quick vacation to see my sister had been impossible.
Normally, Clara and Gus would take a summer trip to my home in Heron Beach for his birthday. Had this been a normal year, we would have celebrated as a family. August, born in August. But this year, their trip to Oregon had been moved up to June.
Clara’s arrogant and demanding boss had decided that he needed his assistant along for his two-week hiatus in Aruba over Gus’s birthday.
I couldn’t blame Clara for jumping at the lavish vacation. August had turned five in an extravagant, boutique hotel with his favorite person in the world—his mother. They’d gone snorkeling in the ocean and swimming in their suite’s private infinity pool. The chef had made Gus’s dinner favorite—mini cheeseburgers—then baked him a three-tiered chocolate cake.
Experiencing that moment through Instagram pictures had been depressing.
Maybe we should have partied early for his birthday during their visit in June, but applauding five when you were stuck at four seemed borderline cruel.
This vacation was my chance to make up for my absence. I was as excited to get to Arizona as August was for me to arrive.
Two weeks with my sister and her son. Two weeks in sweatpants and going barefoot. Two weeks of takeout, games and fun.
“Can you take the phone to your mom?” I asked August.
“Okay. Mom!” he shouted.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and laughed. His feet pounding through their house echoed in the background. After some rustling and mutters, my sister took the phone.
“Hey,” she said, her voice muffled and thick.
“Gus said you were sick.”
“Ugh.” She coughed and sniffled. “I woke up this morning and felt like crap.”
“Sorry. I’ll be there soon to entertain August so you can get some rest.”
“Where are you?”
“About an hour away.” I’d worked a half day yesterday to beat the weekend traffic flocking to the coast. I’d pushed hard, spending my Thursday night on the road until I’d finally found a place to stop and a motel room for the night. Then I’d woken up this morning to finish the rest of the twelve-hundred-mile journey, wanting to get to Clara’s before dinner.
“Drive safe,” she said. “See you when you get here.”
“Bye.” I ended the call and tossed my phone into my purse in the passenger seat.
Then I gripped the Cadillac’s white wheel and relaxed as I floated down the highway.
I loved this car. It was going to break my heart to leave it with Clara in two weeks. But the restored 1964 Cadillac DeVille convertible was not mine to keep. She had been entrusted to me for a short time and soon, she’d continue on her journey to her rightful owner.
But for today, for this trip, she was mine.
The afternoon sun roasted the asphalt. Heat waves rolled across the road, leaving blurry ripples in the air. There were no clouds in the blue sky, nothing to offer relief from the sun’s punishing rays. Yesterday I’d spent most of the day with the top down, enjoying the wind in my hair and sunshine on my face. Today I’d keep the top up and the AC cranked.
This heat was the reason I avoided the desert in the summer. By October, it should have cooled, but this year was unseasonably hot.
No wonder everything died here.
Why Clara loved the desert I had no clue. I’d stick with my home on the coast, where the breeze was cool, crisp and freshly salted. Plants and flowers flourished in the ocean air and under the frequent rains.
Life seemed harder here. Nature was unrelenting and only the strong survived. The plateaus in the distance had been eroded into towers and flat-topped spires on the horizon. They’d endured centuries of abuse from wind and water, leaving behind their own unique beauty.
The bushes, cacti and wildflowers that managed to thrive were tough as hell. I’d give them credit for their tenacity.
Maybe that was why Arizona appealed to Clara. She was tough as hell too.
The road stretched long and wide ahead. White marking the edges. Yellow the center.
Route 66.
The iconic highway had been mostly empty today, and the stretch ahead was mine and mine alone. I sank deeper into the buttery leather seat and leaned an elbow on the door.
This trip to Arizona wasn’t just a trip to visit my twin sister. This trip had a purpose. I was the next driver in a cross-country journey that had started in Boston and would end in California.
This spring, I’d had a surprise visit from an old friend. Katherine Gates had been a welcome sight when I’d spotted her in the lobby of The Gallaway. My childhood friend had traveled from Montana to Oregon. With her and this Cadillac had come memories of the past. Memories I’d locked away for, well . . . too long.
Once upon a time, Katherine and I had lived together. Our home had been a junkyard. Our family had been a rabble of six runaway teens. We’d been friends. Companions. Protectors.
Katherine.
Londyn.
Gemma.
Karson.
Clara.
Me.
As kids, they’d been the most important people in my life. Then we’d all gone our separate ways, built separate lives, and though I doubted any of us would ever forget the junkyard, time and distance had made it easier to ignore.
When Katherine had surprised me in Oregon, the past had come rushing back. As did my love for my old friends. We were a unit again, the women at least. None of us had been in contact with Karson, not since the junkyard.
But for us girls, we’d rekindled our friendships. Our family.
We had a group text string that more often than not included pictures of wherever we were at the moment. We had video chats to talk about books, though we had yet to talk about books. We had emails and phone calls.
So why, when I had so much love and friendship in my life, was I so lonely?
I clutched the wheel tighter, wishing the hole in my heart away.
The loneliness was probably because I’d been working so much. And because I’d gone so long without my sister. It would all be better once I got to Arizona, right? Maybe this heavy heart was because I hated goodbyes and soon I’d say farewell to the Cadillac.