Page 86 of Find Me in California

He isn’t buying it. But before he can comment on it, she scoots her chair back and picks up her plate. “I was thinking while you were on the phone that you probably don’t have a hotel room.”

“I haven’t had the chance to book one yet,” he confirms.

“I have an extra room. You can sleep there if you want to.”

He does want to. “Thank you.”

She smiles tightly before heading to the kitchen, and he can’t help thinking she seemed upset.

Julia shows Matt the room upstairs. She brings him fresh sheets and towels, and when he declines her offer to help make the bed, she says good night.

Matt showers and changes, but he doesn’t try to sleep. He’s restless, like he guzzled a pot of coffee, and he still needs to read Elizabeth’s letter.

That’s going to require a drink first.

He slides the letter into his pajama pocket and heads downstairs. But at the last second, he veers away from the kitchen and sinks onto the couch. Alcohol is the last thing he needs.

With shaky hands, he turns on the table lamp and unfolds the letter.

Dear Matt,

I’m not surprised you didn’t come for me. I wouldn’t have either, not after the way I treated you. But there is something about your mother, and indirectly about yourself, you must know.

Do you remember my butler, Adam Nulty? He was in my employ for almost four decades. You were with me for eight of those years, so, clearly, you must recall him. Your mother knew him, but she didn’tknow the truth about him, not in relation to her, and neither did you. Adam is—well, there’s no easy way to put it but straight. He’s your grandfather. Then again, if you’re reading this letter, you might already know this. Julia Hope may have told you.

Your mother grew up believing my late husband, Matthew Holloway, was her father. She didn’t know otherwise. Now, you’re surely wondering why I lied to her, and in turn, to you and everyone else. I could sugarcoat this and tell you I didn’t know who her father was, or that I wasn’t thinking clearly, or wasn’t ready to deal with it. I could say that I didn’t want to be judged for having an affair with the butler. If Hollywood loves anything, it’s a good story. But I’ve never been one for sweets. Give me a strong martini over a strawberry cheesecake any day.

Quite simply, Matt, I wanted Aubrey to be his, Matthew Holloway’s. Hate me all you want. I’m not writing to ask for your forgiveness. I’m also not going to get into a long-winded explanation about the difficulties of losing my mother at a young age when you know that trauma firsthand yourself. But Matthew was my last connection to Hollywood and, in essence, to my parents. What I do know is that Matthew and Aubrey are gone, and there’s no reason for me to be keeping secrets. A shame it’s taken me decades to admit this. To be a fly on the wall and hear what you have to say about me when you visit Adam! I’ve always loved stirring up drama.

As of tonight, Julia knows. (Oh, the irony! She has the look of him, you know.) You’ve been talking with her, and I asked that she pass this letter along. I wasn’t sure you’d ever give me the chance to explain.But for once I came to my senses and figured you at least deserved to learn directly from me if for nothing other than confirmation. Adam also knows about you. The old sod left in quite a huff after I told him last month. I don’t blame him for disappearing on me. It was rather poor of me to keep this from him for so long. Not one of my better decisions. Perhaps I loved him too much after all. Knowing the truth early on would have put him in a precarious position, and I’d already done enough damage to my own family. But if he asks, tell him I’m not angry he abandoned me. I deserve every speck of his condemnation.

Lastly, and certainly not least, I am sorry, Matt. You deserved better from me.

Well, there you have it, the truth. What you do with it, that’s up to you.

Sincerely yours,

Grandmother Elizabeth Holloway

Wednesday

CHAPTER 41

JULIA

Matt is asleep on the couch with Liza’s letter crumpled in his hand when Julia comes down in the morning. She doesn’t have the heart to wake him and ask about it, and she’s already running late for work. She leaves a note telling him to help himself to the eggs in the refrigerator. By the time she arrives at the country club, he’s texted once, thanking her for the eggs and for the talk. When she reaches her locker, he texts again about his neck. It’s cramped. He didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch, and she smiles at that, wondering if he’ll let her massage his neck later.

But she doesn’t see his third text mentioning he’s going to call Adam’s daughter, his aunt, until she’s walking into Rosemont to visit Mama Rose during her lunch break. She should be using this time to interview and tour other facilities. She should also take a moment and text Matt back. What if he wants to talk with her first before he calls Adam’s daughter, walk through what he’s going to say? But during an aromatherapeutic session with a young woman recovering from a sprained ankle, Mama Rose flashed to mind and Julia felt compelled to see her as soon as possible. She doesn’t like the sense of dread she’s been feeling all morning or the shortness of breath that’s come along with it.

“How is she today?” Julia asks when she runs into Trevor in the hallway.

“She was feeling ill this morning, but she’s resting now.” Trevor sorts a stack of clipboards. “All’s good, Julia.”

“Thank you.” She’s relieved to hear that. She goes straight to Mama Rose’s room, needing to see for herself. She quietly enters to find her grandmother asleep, her face turned toward the window framing the garden that had sold her on Rosemont. The newly planted shrubs are thriving under the noon sun.

Julia’s racing heart eases for the first time in what seems like hours. She pulls a chair to the bed and sits down. She rests her cheek on the quilt by Mama Rose’s hand and carefully, so as not to wake her, slides her hand under her grandmother’s. She weaves their fingers together and closes her eyes.

It’s been months since she held her hand. She can’t remember the last time they hugged without Mama Rose being offended Julia had touched her, believing her a stranger. Both of them were affectionate people. Up until recently they touched all the time. A hand squeeze of reassurance here. A kiss hello there. They hugged to greet the morning and end the day. They danced arm in arm through the house whenever Julia or Mama Rose put on a record.

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