“How many are there now?” she asked, pointing to a light gray cat sunning on a wide windowsill.
Salvia sighed. “Fifteen. They’ve all been fixed, so we shouldn’t have more, but they just appear. I think they tell each other about the crazy house on the hill.”
“If I was a cat, I’d want to live here,” Robyn said with a grin and hugged Salvia again. “I’m so glad to be here.”
“She’s excited to see you. Go on up. I’ll bring drinks and appetizers.” Salvia’s mouth twisted. “Try to get her to eat. She’s reached the age where she has no appetite, so she’s thinner, but still healthy.”
Robyn wanted to ask more but told herself she should get the answers from Lillian. She thanked Salvia and made her way through the house.
She took the hallway leading out of the kitchen, passing a dining room and a sitting room. The ceilings were high—nearly twelve feet, and each room was massive. She ignored a small staircase, knowing it ended on a landing that was walled in on three sides, and all the closed doors. Some were closets, some opened onto blank walls.
The house—inspired by the Winchester House in San Jose—was a marvel of architecture and whimsy. There were secret passages, beautiful views and rooms filled with priceless furniture and artwork. On her last visit, Robyn had discovered a painting she’d been sure was a Renoir. Lillian had promised to get in an expert.
She walked into the five-hundred-square-foot foyer and started up the curving, grand staircase. At the top she saw the chair that Lillian now used to gracefully ride up and down the stairs. Getting her great-aunt to admit she needed the stair lift had been a year-long undertaking, but certainly worth the fight. Robyn slept easier knowing Lillian wasn’t risking a fall.
She ran the last few feet to Lillian’s room, knocked once on the partially open door, then let herself in.
“I’m here,” she called, walking out onto the huge balcony with the perfect view of the ocean.
She ignored the expanse of water and the two cats grooming themselves in the sun, and went toward the chaise in the center. Her aunt stood and smiled.
“You made it. Come hug me so I know you’re really here.”
Robyn rushed forward and embraced her, noting how she seemed more fragile than she had before—not entirely unexpected, given her advancing years, but still troubling.
“I’ve missed you,” Robyn whispered fiercely. “So much.”
“As I’ve missed you, darling. Come, sit. Let me look at you.” Lillian stepped back. “Ah, to be young and beautiful again.”
“You’ll always be beautiful.”
“You’re sweet to lie.”
Robyn pulled a second chaise close and made sure her aunt was comfortable before taking a seat. Lillian squeezed her hand.
“Tell me you’re staying forever.”
Robyn laughed. “Almost a month.”
“Excellent. I look forward to every second.” Her gaze sharpened. “What convinced you to come see me?”
“Once again, I’m running away to you.” Robyn did her best to keep her tone light.
Lillian’s gaze sharpened. “That’s why I’m here. Now tell me what happened.”
Salvia appeared just then, carrying a tray. Robyn pulled a table between their chairs, then grinned when she saw the classic mai tais, each with a pineapple and cherry garnish. There was also a fruit and cheese plate.
“I’m going to make some coconut shrimp,” Salvia told Robyn.
“Sounds delicious. Thank you.”
Robyn handed her aunt a drink, then pushed the cheese plate close to her. She picked up the second glass and grinned. “Now I know I’m home.”
“I should drink something more sophisticated, but I can’t help it. I love these, and Salvia’s are the best. All right, you have your drink and snack. Tell me what’s going on.”
Robyn took a sip, mostly to buy time. She wasn’t sure how much to share about the disaster that was her life.
“Things are good,” she hedged.
Lillian sat up and faced her. “Robyn, I’ve known you all your life—from the time you were a little baby. I loved you then, and I love you still. You’re my favorite person in the world, and there’s nothing you can say to change that. So what exactly are you running from?”
The words made her feel warm and accepted, and a little foolish. Robyn opened her mouth, closed it, then blurted, “My life is a mess. I’ve been an idiot. No—I’ve been irresponsible and ridiculous, and I’m so ashamed.”
She explained about the house and how she didn’t have a job that paid anything and how she’d wasted four years. That she’d been living off of Cord’s payments with no plan for her future and that she should have gone to college when she was eighteen or even after the divorce, but she hadn’t. She talked about Austin’s summer move-out, the fight with Harlow, and how she would be listing her big house in early September. By the time she wound down, they’d finished their drinks, and much of the cheese plate was gone.
Salvia showed up with a second round and coconut shrimp. When she’d left, Lillian smiled.
“That’s a lot.”
“I know. I’m trying not to feel overwhelmed.”
“There’s no need, if we take things one at a time. So, college.”
“I should have gone after high school.”
Lillian dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “What’s that saying? Don’t ‘should’ all over yourself. I don’t think either of us would wish away your beautiful babies. Start from where you are now. Do you want to go to college?”
“Yes.”
“What would you study?”
“I should—” Robyn stopped when Lillian rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re going to say, but I have to be practical. I’m forty-two.”
“Pretend you’re not going to be practical. What would you study?”
“Art history.”
Lillian sipped her mai tai and smiled. “An excellent choice for you. Tell me about your job with Mindy. It’s going well?”‘
“Mostly. I mean, I love the work, but sometimes Mindy is difficult. She’s my boss and we’re friends, which is awkward. Sometimes I’m not sure how much I like her. She’s making terrible decisions in her personal life.”
Mindy was yet another place in her life where she’d taken the easy way out. She hung out with her because of the job, she had the job because she hadn’t bothered to figure out her future, she had no future because...