Page 116 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

Margot,

Hopefully, you can read my horrible handwriting. I’d have Ally transcribe it for me, but I can just hear her yammering now—best to do it myself.

If you’re reading this, Jeffery’s come to give you my will. I’m dead, huh? Finally.Took God long enough to take me home, didn’t it? You’re probably bawling like a baby while I’m over here, free from drowning in BENGAY every day.

I’m not going to spend this letter yapping on about sentimentalities. You know I never was much for a sappy story. I’m old. My hand’s already cramping.

I left you everything. I bet you’re shocked, like the thick-headed dullard you are. But on one condition—you go back to fashion school, and you get out from underneath your parents’ thumb. I was going to make it on the condition that you don’t marry that Aaron boy, but apparently that’s only something people do in movies. So go to that fancy fashion school, get your degree, and when you graduate, everything is yours. Until then, I’ve a fund in place to help carry you along.

Be happy. That’s my other requirement. In everything that you do, be happy.

Yes, you’re welcome. Stop crying, now. I lived til 90 for you, and have left you everything. Be grateful. I don’t want you staying in Addison. You’ve lived this whole time for your parents. Live for yourself for a change, and leave this world and its champagne problemsbehind.

God, who writes by hand anymore? I wouldn’t be surprised if the cramp is what kills me.

I love you

It was great seeing you grow up, now go live your own life.

Fondly (I was listening, even if you thought I wasn’t),

Nancy Du Ponte

I swiped the back of my hand under my chin, wiping away the tears that had fallen and pooled there. I traced the crossed-out words, because even though she’d written a line through them, they were still legible.I love you. Words we never, ever said to each other. They were her final goodbye.

I left you everything.“I never wanted anything,” I whispered, rereading her sentences over and over.

And I could hear her response in my head.And that’s exactly why I gave it to you.

Everyone around Nancy clawed at her for her money, for her estates, for everything she was worth. They were polite to her face, grumbled about her behind her back. They thought they were sneaky, that Nancy wouldn’t be the wiser. None of them received a single penny in the end, but Nancy didn’t give it to charity the way she said she would.

I had it all now—or at least I would when I graduated from fashion school. Even though Mr. Franz went over it with me, I still couldn’t wrap my mind around theamount. The estates, the main shareholdings of Alderton-Du Ponte, the land my parents’ hotel sat on.

Of course she’d require me to go to fashion school, the one thing she knew I wanted in the world, and she gave me more than enough to reach for it.In everything that you do, be happy.

That’d even been one of the last things she said to me, too.Choose to be happy. You deserve it.

I ran my hand across my cheek again, sniffing like a child, before I folded the letter back up.

The back door slid open noisily, announcing Sumner’s presence. I turned to face him, not caring if there was still the shine of my shed tears, not caring if my nose was red. There was no stress of making sure I maintained my perfect image anymore, no need to shield my emotions away. I didn’t want to hide them from him ever again.

“The toast is done,” he said hesitantly, as if also addingI can give you more time if you need it.

I tucked Nancy’s letter back into the envelope before turning fully away from the pond. “I’m not sure it’ll be as good as Pierre’s,” I told him, starting up the hill. “But we’ll find out.”

“Hey, I never claimed it would be.”

“You offered to make a sacred dish. I assumed it was because you were confident in it.”

The closer I came, the more I could see anxiety crease his brow. “I wouldn’t sayconfident, but?—”

“I’m sure you couldn’t have botched it too bad.” I stretched my hand out to Sumner as I approached him, and he mimicked me, reaching until his fingers could slide underneath my own. The grip was warm andcomforting, just as the sun, just as the letter. Just what I needed. “But we’ll find out, hmm?”

Instead of leading me inside, with his grip on my hand, Sumner drew me against his chest. His lips found their way to my forehead immediately, the tender touch enough to make me shiver. “If it’s terrible,” he murmured against my skin, “I’ll let you make me beans on toast.”

“You know, it never specified whatkindof beans. I could use kidney beans.”

Sumner’s face screwed up. “Never mind, let me remake your toast. I need to improve my chances.”

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