Surprise shot through Delilah’s veins. Of course Isabel and Astrid knew Delilah worked as a wedding photographer. They knew she did portraits and waited tables in one of the most expensive cities in the world. But they didn’t know about her art, her ambitions, her desire to be a name among American photographers. That’s what her Instagram was for. A showcase of what she could actually do when she wasn’t doing someone else’s bidding and snapping pictures of couples mooning—or in Astrid’s case, not mooning—over each other. Delilah had never told them about any of that. Not that a simple Google search wouldn’t pull up her social media, but to even do that, Astrid would have to give half a shit to type in her name.
“Hang on,” Delilah said. “You—”
“See you later,” Astrid said, then swept out the door, leaving Delilah with a tight feeling in her chest that wouldn’t go away no matter how many paper cups of wine she tossed down her throat.
Chapter Seventeen
THE NEXT EVENING was Thursday and kicked off a whole six days without some godforsaken wedding event. Claire and Ruby came home from the bookstore to find Iris and Delilah sitting in their kitchen sipping on lemon LaCroix.
Claire froze, her heart suddenly in her throat.
“Hey!” Ruby said, barreling farther inside to meet them.
“Hey, Rubes,” Iris said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Delilah smiled at the girl, but her eyes flicked to Claire, who felt her stomach lurch up to join her heart.
“Help yourself to that key under the planter anytime you want, Ris,” Claire said.
“I shall,” Iris said. “Got your mail too. Looks like your mom sent you another package.”
Claire set her bag on the center island. “Oh Jesus, what is it this time?” In her vagabond retirement, her mother had gotten progressively into crystals and tarot. She burned sage to cleanse her space and talked about blocked chakras whenever she and Claire spoke on the phone. Not that Claire begrudged her the interest—she was glad her mother had a passion after handing her beloved River Wild Books over to her daughter’s control. Claire just didn’t have the time or brain space to really understand it all. Lately, her mother had taken to sending her things in the mail, everything from rose quartz necklaces to books on meditation, convinced Claire simply needed a little spirituality in her life to set everything straight.
“I want to see what Grandma sent,” Ruby said, picking up the padded envelope. She ripped it open and pulled out a box about the size of a small book. Her eyes scanned the front, reading the text. “The Literary Witches Oracle.”
“Oracle?” Iris said, standing and taking the box from Ruby. “Like future telling?”
“I have no idea,” Claire said, taking her turn with the box. “？‘Discover divination using the magic of literary genius,’？” she read from the back, where it showed the image of a card featuring Zora Neale Hurston, next to another card with an apple on it. Just that. An apple.
“How very magically bookish of Katherine,” Iris said.
Claire laughed, peering at Zora. Underneath her image was the word story. “This actually might be something we could stock in the bookstore.” She set the box on the island to deal with later before opening the refrigerator and taking out a beer.
“Oh, thank god,” Iris said, holding out her hand for one as well. “I was trying to be good, but this sparkling water isn’t cutting it.”
Claire put a cold can in her hand and then looked at Delilah. “You want one?”
“I’m okay,” Delilah said. “But thanks.”
“I’ll have one,” Ruby said, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at Claire. This had been happening all day long. The glaring. The huffing. The arm folding. All thanks to Josh, once again, who told Ruby he wanted to take her on a camping trip this weekend before he talked to Claire about it, which now meant that any objection Claire had would automatically turn her into the fun-sucking, hundred-year-old worrywart mother she always felt like she was around Josh.
And that was exactly what happened when Ruby informed her about the trip this morning and Claire responded with a very calm “Honey, I don’t know.” She hadn’t even said no yet, but Claire had still spent her day angry texting with Josh and dodging her daughter’s dagger stares while working on invoices and redoing endcaps.
“Oh, ha ha,” Claire said, reaching out to smooth Ruby’s hair. The girl ducked out of her reach though, sliding gracefully to the other side of the counter next to Delilah. Iris shot her a look, but Claire waved her off. She was used to this by now. What was one more explosive fight with her eleven-year-old?