I laughed. “So…”
“So I think we are going to have a very productive semester.” She held her hand out, and I shook it. “Welcome back, Ms. Baxter. I trust that you will leave my care ready for any firm you choose.”
I wanted to hug her, but she didn’t seem like a hugger. So, instead, I said, “Thank you, Professor. This time I won’t let you down. I promise.”
She shrugged. “This isn’t a contract with me, Ms. Baxter. It’s one with yourself.”
She was right. I knew that now. As I left, I was floating on air. I had been intimidated by this legend of a woman. But I also felt proud because I had faced my fear. Again. In so many ways, I realized that, perhaps, that was what Professor Winchester had wanted me to do the entire time.
As I headed out to meet Sarah, I realized I had failed in two of the biggest ways I could have imagined this year. But that was okay. That was life. And, as I stepped outside into the cool, crisp air, I thought that maybe Babs was right. Maybe my failures hadn’t actually ended anything. Maybe they were teaching me how to get back up and move forward in a better direction, toward the life I imagined.
* * *
I had reinstated my rightful place in architecture school. Instead of going deeper into student loan debt—and with Hayes’s blessing—I had sold my engagement ring to pay for my last semester and some of my existing loan. I had celebrated with my friends. I couldn’t procrastinate anymore. I had to go see my parents and apologize for ruining the wedding that wasn’t.
I had asked Babs to come too. I knew it was a lot to ask her to come to Raleigh, but she’d argued that we could all do with a nice lunch and visit.
As I pulled up our road, my family’s pretty two-story brick house gave me its usual homey feeling, followed immediately by an uneasy one. Sometimes I thought that maybe that was a little bit dramatic. But, then again, sometimes I felt like it wasn’t dramatic enough. I sat for a moment in my car, admiring the way the trees framed the house from the street. The landscaping was always perfectly manicured thanks to Dad. （I assumed he spent a lot of time in the yard to keep from fighting with Mom）。 Boxwoods framed either side of the small front stoop and little flowers lined the brick walk.
It looked like the perfect home, and in so many ways it was. We had been a strong family unit, Mom, Dad, and me. I had been so happy—right up until the time I turned eight and started to realize that I was happy. And my house seemed happy. But my parents weren’t happy. At least, not together. The first separation came right before my thirteenth birthday, and honestly, I was relieved. When they got back together six months later, I thought things were better—until the summer I turned seventeen and they split up again. By the time they got back together the second time, this house had quit being a safe space for me. Instead, it was a place of instability.
A tap on my passenger-side window made me jump. I smiled, unlocked the door, and Babs slid in, wearing a tailored yellow pantsuit, her hair freshly combed. “You ready?”
I nodded. Then I told her what I had been thinking. “You know, Babs, I would never blame any of my life decisions on my parents. But there’s a small part of me that thinks maybe that’s why Hayes and that can’t-live-with-you, can’t-live-without-you thing was so appealing for so long. It was what I knew. And it was exciting.”
She nodded. “It makes your heart race, all right. But I have to think it also makes for a difficult life.”
“Are we going to tell Mom? About the veil looking like Cornelia’s?”
Babs pursed her lips. “We know now that Mother couldn’t have gotten it from the Vanderbilts.”
For some reason, I still wasn’t convinced. Or maybe I was just looking for a reason to break free of the thing. “Well, maybe it would be nice to see it anyway.”
We walked slowly up the brick walk. “Was Miles excited to have you back?”
She tried not to, but she smiled. “This day is about you, Jules. We’ll worry about all that later.”
That was a big yes.
When I opened the front door, my dad was walking through the dim foyer in a pair of khakis and a polo, golf bag strapped to his back.
“Jules!” he said, engulfing me in a hug. “Isn’t this a great surprise?”
“Surprise?” I asked as Mom appeared and hugged me and then Babs.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you she was coming?” Mom said. “It must have slipped my mind.”
Things definitely weren’t going well if she hadn’t told Dad I was coming. I turned and raised my eyebrows at her. “Dad, do you have time to sit down for a second before you leave? There’s something I want to talk to you and Mom about.”
He looked down at his watch. “Want me to cancel my tee time? I certainly would have had I known you were coming.” There was a sharpness at the end of his sentence as he glared at Mom.
“No,” I said quickly. “This will only take a minute.” Thirty seconds in and I was already trying to soothe, to fix. Maybe that’s who I was. A fixer. But now, I realized proudly, I was fixing myself.
We all followed Mom into the formal living room off to the left, which felt wrong because no one ever sat in there. She looked thinner than usual, and I wondered if that was from the stress of my calling off the wedding. I felt guiltier, if that was even possible.
The living room still had the same pink and green drapes with the swooping valances that had been the height of sophistication when I was a kid, and which now desperately needed to be replaced. The worn velvet on what had been my great-grandmother’s chair was still soft, but I could feel every spring underneath me. As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough.
“I just wanted to apologize,” I said.
“There’s no need—” Dad started.
But Mom cut him off. “Actually, there really is.”
I nodded. “I wanted to apologize for running off the way I did, for ruining the wedding, and for wasting all the money I know you worked so hard to save for that day.” It made me a little sick to think about all the food and the band and the rentals and the flowers that we didn’t use. Mom and I had tried to keep the number of guests down and make substitutions for lower-priced choices when we could, but any way you sliced it, it was an expensive day. And, looking around, I knew that money could have been used for some much-needed improvements around here.
“It was a lot of money,” Mom said.
“I don’t know how, but I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“Honey,” Dad interjected, “I don’t care what it cost. There is no price too large to pay for your daughter’s happiness.”
I still felt ashamed. I wanted to say more, but it felt like he had brought an end to the conversation.
“Thank you for saying that,” I said finally.
“I agree with your father,” Babs said. “An unhappy marriage makes for a long life.”
On that note, Dad stood up, kissed me quickly, kissed Babs, and was gone.
“Play well!” I called after him while noticing that he didn’t kiss Mom.
“Well,” Mom said, “let’s put that ugliness behind us and go get some lunch. Where do you want to go?”