“Time for what?”
“Time to have faith.”
Rory cleared her throat, determined to stave off another rush of tears. “What you said before, about the gallery filling the hole in my life . . . It’s true. It was Hux’s idea for me to open the gallery, and I was so excited. Then, when they told me he was missing, I stopped caring about everything—until I saw your building. It felt like fate was sending me a message. But sometimes I wonder if it’s just a way to hold on to him, by doing the thing he wanted me to do.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“I keep one on my nightstand.”
“May I see it?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll go get it.”
Moments later, Rory returned with the photograph. It was a shot of them standing arm in arm, beaming like the newly engaged lovers they’d been when it was taken. “He asked me to marry him the day before it was taken. We drove out to the cape to celebrate.”
“You’re beautiful together,” Soline said, studying the photo. “And just look at that smile. You make him happy.”
Rory found herself smiling too. “It’s mutual. I never felt like I fit anywhere until we met. Everyone had all these ideas about who I was supposed to be. The only thing Hux ever wanted me to be was me. He made it okay to want what I want.” She paused to look at the photo when Soline handed it back, pressing her fingertips to the glass. “Now that he’s gone, I’m afraid . . .”
“That you’ll lose yourself again?”
Rory’s head came up slowly. “Yes.”
“Then don’t let him be gone.”
“Don’t . . . let him?”
“The night my mother died, she gave me a locket with my father’s picture in it. I never knew him, but she asked me to keep him alive for her sake—here.” She paused, pressing a hand to her heart. “She said to keep someone in your heart is to keep them alive forever. You can do that for Hux, Rory.”
“Is that what you did with Anson—kept him alive in your heart?”
“I tried.”
“Was there ever anyone else? After, I mean.”
Soline smiled sadly. “There is only so much room in a woman’s heart, chérie. Anson filled all of mine.”
Rory nodded. The thought of anyone taking Hux’s place was simply unfathomable. “Sometimes it’s all I can do to look at his picture. Was it like that for you?”
“I don’t have any pictures.”
“None?”
“We met during the war, at the hospital where I volunteered. There was no time for pictures.”
Rory was about to respond when the living room phone rang. Her eyes shot to the clock above the sink, suddenly remembering that she should have been at her mother’s an hour ago. “That’ll be my mother,” she said, pushing back from the table. “We were supposed to have brunch this morning.”
After a brief search, Rory located the cordless and braced for the inevitable.
“Why are you still at home?” Camilla demanded, skipping right past hello. “Brunch is ruined.”
“I’m sorry. I got caught up in something and lost track of time.”
“What was so important that you couldn’t pick up the phone and let me know?”
Rory bit her lip. The surest way to blow up their tentative truce would be to admit she’d forgotten their brunch date because Soline had shown up with pastries. “It was just some gallery stuff.”
“You don’t open for months. Whatever it was had to be done today?”
“I said I’m sorry. I was ready to walk out the door and I got sidetracked.”
“You sound funny,” Camilla said abruptly. “Stuffy. Like you’re getting sick.”
“Do I?” She couldn’t very well admit she’d been blubbering. Instead, she seized on the excuse with both hands. “You know, I think I might be. My throat’s a little raw. I was thinking about making some tea and crawling back in bed.”
“That’s a good idea. Do you have soup?”
“Um . . . yeah, I think so.”
“And tea?”
“Yes, I have tea.”
“Put some honey in the tea. It’ll help your throat.”
“Okay, I will. Thanks. And I’m sorry about brunch.”
“Never mind that. Just get some rest. I’ll check on you later.”
Soline appeared as Rory ended the call, carrying her gloves and handbag. “I boxed up the remaining pastries and put the cups and plates in the sink.”