“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…
“You’re shoulding again,” Lillian said gently.
“I am. Sorry. I’ll try to stop. It’s just, I feel I’m being forced to confront my every mistake. It’s a big list.”
“Then we’ll start small. Your job.”
“I’m not working enough hours. Managing the inventory doesn’t pay much. In sales, I’d at least get a commission.”
“You could open your own store.”
Robyn glared at her great-aunt. “We’ve talked about this, and you’ve promised never to die, so no.”
“Darling, I won’t live forever.”
“Yes, you will. I insist.”
Lillian chuckled. “I’m sorry, but you don’t have that kind of power. Besides, I’ve lived a good life. I’m ready when the time comes. You know you’re inheriting the contents of the house, so start thinking about what to do with everything.”
“I don’t want to,” Robyn said automatically, even as she thought about what a daunting job sorting through the rooms would be. There were museum-grade pieces and artwork, and some things that were total crap.
“It would take a while,” Lillian said mildly.
“At least a year.”
“That year is in the will. I’m hoping the house gets sold to the local historical society.”
Robyn nodded. Lillian had mentioned that before.
“Some things should stay with the house,” Robyn said, picking up a piece of shrimp. “Some belong in a museum. Did you get someone in for the Renoir?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. You could take care of that for me while you’re here. And maybe start categorizing things. Even being generous in what stays and what goes to museums, you’d still have enough for ten antique stores.”
She was right, Robyn thought. Something she’d never considered. “I’ll refresh my memory on what’s here. Work will help me clear my mind and figure out my future.”
“Excellent. Will Harlow visit while you’re here?”
Not a happy change in topic.
“No. She’s working, and we’re currently not speaking.”
“That will change,” Lillian told her. “She loves you.”
“And I love her, but lately all we do is fight.” Robyn shifted on her seat. “It’s my fault. I told her she was too young to get married, and that didn’t go over well. I probably said it wrong. And I spoiled her when she was little.”
“She was sick and nearly died. You’re allowed to be indulgent.”
“For a while. I let it go on too long. I was thinking about this on the plane. Once she was better, I was so happy that I never required anything from her. I just wanted her to be a normal kid, having fun. I didn’t put limits on her the way I should have, and now she’s entitled and selfish.”
She remembered the ugly words she and Harlow had exchanged about the need to sell the house.
“I wish we didn’t always fight,” she admitted. “When I was her age, I was working with Cord, taking out charters seven days a week with a baby strapped to my chest.”
Lillian smiled. “A wonderful visual, so thank you for that. You have to remember Harlow’s matured at a different rate from other girls her age. She lost two years of her life to cancer—that would have arrested her emotional growth. She’ll catch up.”
Robyn grabbed Lillian’s hand. “I love you so much. You were raised in such a different time with a worldview I can’t imagine, yet you are providing insight about my children.”
“I do my best.”
Robyn released her and picked up her drink. This was exactly why she’d come here. To hang out with one of her favorite people and know she was loved and cared for. Lillian had always provided wise counsel and a place to recover, whether when Robyn had been eleven and had just lost her mother, or carting her five-and one-year-olds there after she’d learned that Cord had cheated on her.
Robyn heard footsteps and expected to see Salvia with another appetizer. Instead a man, about six feet with short, dark hair, walked onto the patio. She’d never seen him before, yet he moved with an ease that said he was comfortable in his surroundings, only stopping when he saw Robyn.