FORTY-TWO
RORY
October 18, 1985—Boston
Rory stared at the expanse of blank wall with a blooming sense of dread. Forty-eight hours ago, Dheera Petri had called to explain why, ten days before the opening, her pieces still hadn’t arrived for installation. She’d had a call from an interior designer who wanted all but two of her paintings for a new office building she’d been hired to decorate. She felt terrible putting Rory on the spot so close to the opening, but would it be possible to get out of their agreement so she could sell her pieces?
They’d agreed to schedule something in the future, and Rory had wished her well. She couldn’t, in good conscience, stand in the way of an offer like that, but she had no idea how she was going to fill the spot on such short notice. To top it off, Camilla and Soline were due to arrive any minute. It would be the first time either of them had seen the gallery, and she’d been looking forward to giving them the full tour. Instead, she was fretting about the prospect of a glaringly empty space on opening night. Not exactly a good omen.
She’d been so pleased with how it all turned out. Brian had done an amazing job, coming in both under budget and two weeks ahead of schedule. The color scheme she had settled on, soft layers of charcoal and slate, gave everything a slightly industrial feel, but careful lighting and reclaimed art deco fixtures added just the right amount of glamour. Even the installations had gone off without a hitch. Until Dheera called with her terrible good news.
“Aurora? Honey? Are you here?”
Rory started at the sound of Camilla’s voice. She hadn’t heard the entry chime, but apparently it was showtime. “I’ll be right there.”
The sight of Soline and her mother hovering in the doorway instantly lifted her spirits. They looked nothing alike—Camilla had inherited Anson’s pale eyes and blond hair, while Soline’s coloring was dark—and yet there was an inexplicable similarity as they stood side by side, an invisible cord that seemed to tether them.
A month ago, she couldn’t have imagined them spending time together, but in the weeks since her mother’s surprise brunch they had grown surprisingly close.
It was good to see Soline getting out again, and she was both thrilled and surprised by how quickly her mother’s cool beige persona had morphed into something vibrant and almost playful, thanks to a trip to Bella Mia and a series of consultations with Lila at Neiman Marcus. Apparently, Soline had become Camilla’s fairy godmother too. And Camilla had been happy to return the favor, inviting Soline to luncheons, shopping excursions, even a ballet performance last week.
Soline had filled a hole in Camilla’s life that even she hadn’t known existed, easing her need to cling and manage, which had allowed Rory time to focus on the gallery. And it appeared they were going to become a regular threesome for Sunday brunch.
It was more than even Rory had hoped for, but what would happen when they finally told Soline the truth? Not all the news would be bad—she would be reunited with her daughter and granddaughter—but even then, there would be bitterness over all the lost years. And of course, the news about Anson would be devastating. Would their newfound closeness be enough to pull her through the aftermath?
Camilla was starting to grumble about feeling disingenuous, and Rory worried that one day her mother would simply blurt out the truth, a gaffe almost certain to end in disaster.
She had agreed to give Thia time, but as of their last conversation, there’d been no movement on that front. Anson had gone abroad soon after their meeting in San Francisco and wasn’t returning calls. She wasn’t surprised, but a tiny part of her had hoped Thia might be successful, that the scales would suddenly drop from Anson’s eyes and there would be a happy ending after all. But with every day that passed, that was looking less likely.
“So,” Camilla said, clapping her hands eagerly. “We’re here for our tour. We said eleven, right?”
Rory pasted on a smile. “Yes, we did.”
Her gaze shifted to Soline, who was surveying her surroundings with an open mouth. It was the first time she’d been back since the night of the fire four years ago, and Rory had been worried about her reaction. Her last memories of the place could hardly be good.
“This is astonishing,” Soline murmured at last. “I worked and lived here for thirty-five years, and I barely recognize the place. It’s all so beautiful. And you left the original stair railing. How wonderful.”
Rory felt herself relax. “I’m so glad you like it. I wanted to leave some of the details as an homage to the building’s history. We still need to tweak the acoustics a little because of the bare floors—there’s quite an echo when the place is empty—but overall, I’m thrilled with how it all turned out.”