My phone rings, and I dig into my bag as I reach my front steps. I look at the number. Despite my contemplative mood, I smile when I see it’s Daisy, my exuberant neighbor who adopted me as her friend years ago.
“Hey, Daisy,” I say into the phone.
“It’s your birthday, bitch. You better be out at the clubs already, having drinks and flirting with boys.”
“Um, it’s like you don’t even know me,” I say.
She snickers. “It’s your twenty-fifth birthday. You should be partying. Please don’t tell me you’re not going out?”
I don’t want to admit that I have no plans. That makes me sound way too lame. “How’s wine country?” I ask, changing the subject. Daisy owns the vintage clothing shop next door to my house and spends most of her weekends traveling to estate sales like the one she’s currently at.
“It’s amazing, Olivia.” Daisy lets out a dreamy sigh. “Mrs. Vanderpool has the closet of my dreams. Rare Pucci prints. Yves Saint Laurent dresses from the seventies. Everything is in perfect condition. I have online buyers just waiting. You know how my shop has been struggling? I think this might turn it around. But I’m so sorry to be missing your birthday.”
“It’s fine, Daisy. I’m a big girl.”
“What are you doing tonight? And don’t say staying home.”
“I’m going to stay home,” I admit.
She groans. “Olivia! Guys would fall all over you if you gave them a chance. I’d kill for your rocking curves and long black hair. You’ve got that Snow White thing going on, if Snow White only wore baggy jeans and oversize sweaters. So squeeze into something sexy and hit the town.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“You never feel like it. Are you going to spend the night texting your mystery lover instead?”
“There’s no lover.”
“Fine, call him what you want. Your mystery text boy, then. At the very least, you two should’ve moved on to sexting by now.”
“It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.”
“Tell him he needs to give you a birthday orgasm.”
“Daisy, stop.” I laugh.
“You deserve all the special things,” she says slyly.
“I did get something special. I saw Mr. Jensen today, and he had a letter for me. From Nanna.”
“Wait, what?” Daisy had known and loved Nanna. Sometimes I think the reason she worked so hard at being my friend after moving next door was because she loved hanging out with my grandmother. They could talk about photography for hours.
“Before she died, Nanna gave Mr. Jensen a letter. She wanted me to open it on my twenty-fifth birthday.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and touch my jacket pocket containing the letter, as if to assure myself that it’s real.
“Oh my God, Olivia. That’s amazing! But I wonder why Nanna gave it to Mr. Jensen. She could have given it to me to keep.”
“Do you think you could have kept that secret?”
She bursts out a laugh. “Good point. Probably not.” She pauses. “What does it say?” she asks, tentative now.
I finger the edges of the envelope as I take the steps up to my house in slow motion. “I haven’t opened it yet. I want to be home and alone when I read it. So, I guess that’s what I’m doing for my birthday.” My stomach dips at the thought.
As excited as I am to read what she wrote, I know it will bring a new wave of grief, a feeling I’ve been fighting this week as I got closer to my birthday. Nanna died eleven months ago, and this will be my first birthday without her, my first birthday with no family left in the world. I never felt like an orphan while I had my grandmother. But now, I’m truly alone.
Except for Daisy. And my boss, Audrey.
And Remington, I remind myself. I have Remington.
“Oh, honey. Do you want me to come back early from Napa?”
“And give up Pucci?”
“To hell with Mrs. Vanderpool and her fancy closet. You’re more important.”
“Thank you, but I don’t mind being alone. I’m the not-so-friendly neighborhood introvert, remember?” Daisy gave me that nickname because of my reluctance to go out with her. Daisy was the party-loving extrovert to my book-loving introvert.
“Hmph. So you say. Well, let me know if you change your mind. Love you, babe.”
“Love you,” I say automatically, feeling grateful for her friendship. “And thank you.”