I wish you the best and every success.
Regards,
Your Holden
Ps. Tell Wentz I’ll never forgive him for what he did and that I love him for it too.
I didn’t know what the postscript meant except Ronan had facilitated a meeting with Holden and River Whitmore before Holden disappeared. I hadn’t known that there was something between Holden and the quarterback of the football team in the first place; Ronan had kept Holden’s confidence about it, which made me love him more.
That night, at the mention of caterers, Ronan’s lips drew down. “It means Holden’s alive, at least.”
I tucked my arm in his, wishing I had the words to ease his mind. Holden leaving suddenly hurt him worse than he let on, especially on the heels of Miller’s departure for Los Angeles. The Lost Boys were scattered, and it was looking like they wouldn’t be reunited any time soon.
Bertie brought Bibi over to me, and my great-grandmother took my arm. “If you’ll excuse me, Ronan, darling, I must have a word with this girl.”
“Of course.”
He moved off and my heart swelled to see Uncle Rudy and Aunt Bertie take possession of him, peppering him with questions.
Bibi’s eyes were shining. “I am so proud of you, I can’t stand it. This old heart of mine feels like it’s going to burst.”
“It had better not,” I said, her emotion trying to pull out mine.
She leaned into me and I smelled her jasmine perfume. “I know Marie is being Marie. And I know a lot of what’s happening tonight is because you’ve been trying to make her see you. But don’t let her dim your shine, baby. Tonight is your night. We all see you. I see you, Shiloh. And I know that’s not the same as a mama’s love, but I hope it can make up for what you’re missing.”
“God, Bibi,” I breathed, hugging her fiercely. “None of this would have happened without you. So long as you’re proud”—I swallowed hard—“nothing else matters. Nothing.”
Bibi dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex from her pocketbook. “Now look at me. I’m a mess.”
“No, you’re perfect,” I said. “And you always have been.”
From beside me, June delicately cleared her throat. “We’re ready.”
I turned to see that night had fallen and that there was more than a small crowd of nicely dressed people gathered outside the shop.
“Are they…?” I cleared my throat and tried again. “Are they here for me?”
June beamed. “Shiloh, you are open for business.”
The grand opening was everything I’d hoped it would be and better than I’d imagined. The crowds flowed in and out, sampling the exquisite appetizers and sipping wine circulated by a waiter on a tray. The store was tiny, but people seemed happy to congregate outside, eating and drinking, then coming in as others left. Bibi and Bertie sat in folding chairs on the sidewalk, catching up, while Rudy took my mom for a walk downtown.
Amber and some other friends from school stopped by to congratulate me, and a journalist interviewed me between customers, though I hardly had time to talk. Letitia turned herself into a saleswoman, engaging customers with so much enthusiasm and charm, they could hardly resist her. Ronan replaced sold items with inventory from the back, so none of the displays were empty for long.
Hours later, the last customer left, telling me she thought this shop was just what Santa Cruz needed. “The tourists are going to leave here with something earthy and beautiful to remember the city by.”
Hope swelled to help mute the anxiety that was starting to creep in. Not every day would be a grand opening. I was going to have to work my ass off to stay afloat.
But I’m ready for that too.
I thanked June and the caterers, locked up, then drove with the family back to Bibi’s for a little private after-party. The talk flowed and Letitia’s laughter filled the house while Shirley Bassey played on Bibi’s ancient record player. The women sipped champagne while Rudy and Ronan stuck to beer. I wished I could’ve had just one glass of the bubbly to celebrate.
But then I will puke and no sexy times with Ronan, I thought, then giggled, giddy from the night. On the other hand, he probably wouldn’t care…
My laughter faded when I saw Mama drain a glass of Merlot and pour another. I’d lost count of how many she’d had at the shop. I frowned and went to the kitchen to get her a bottle of water.
Ronan joined me. “When can we leave?” His voice was low and rough with the promise of sex.
“You’re not having a good time?” I said, hiding my smile in the fridge and letting the cool air waft over my face.
“I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off of you.”
I turned, a bottle of water in one hand. I filled my other with Ronan’s groin. “Me too, as a matter of fact.”
He leaned in to kiss me when a voice rose in anger from the living room. We both froze as Bertie said loudly, “Oh, no you don’t, Marie. Don’t you dare.”
Bibi, Letitia, and Rudy were on the couch, my cousin holding tight to Bibi’s hand. Bertie stood in the center of the room, her black velvet dress rippling with anger as she leveled a finger at Mama who was clearly drunk.
“I have to tell her,” Mama said, swaying, spilling Merlot on the carpet. “She’s eighteen. She’s…old enough.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, though I knew. Of course, I knew.
“Nothing, baby,” Bertie said quickly. “Your mama’s just done a little too much celebrating. We’re going back to the hotel. Rudy…”
My uncle jumped off the couch and spoke soothingly to Mama, but she pushed him away, spilling more wine. “No. I have to do this. I tried before. I can’t…keep it in another minute. Not one…”
“Now?” Bertie cried. “You got to do this now? On her night?”
Ronan’s hand slipped into mine. I held on tight, my mind reeling.
“Yes,” Mama said and spun to find me, one eye shut to keep from seeing double. “Shiloh, you need to know. You needed to know a long time ago…”
“Marie…” Bibi’s voice was low and tremulous. “Not now.”
“Yes, now.”
“Yes, now,” I echoed.
Five pairs of eyes came to me, but I needed to hear it, even if it ruined the perfection of the night.
“I’m starting a new chapter in my life and I want to know who I am. No more lies. No more secrets.” I looked to my mother, hardened my voice. “Tell me.”
She briefly held my gaze, and I saw the hesitation—the fear—behind her eyes. For a moment, I thought she was going to do what she did last time and try to flee. Instead, tears spilled over, unheeded, down her cheeks.
“They don’t want me to tell you who your father is,” Mama said, flapping a hand in Bertie and Bibi’s direction.
My father. The words seemed alien and strange.
“I should’ve done it a long time ago. But I was scared. And wanted to protect you. But it hurt you instead. My weakness hurt us. Because I look at you…and I see him. And I can’t…”
She half sat, half fell into the dining room chair. I rushed forward and knelt in front of her, even as fear sank cold knives into my chest. “What happened? Tell me now.”