Page 99 of Find Me in California

I thought for sure people could tell, and every day I expected someone to call me out. But they never did. And for a time, until Aubrey became fed up with me for forcing her to follow in Matty’s footsteps, Hollywood embraced her as his. I’ve written a list of movies on the back of this sheet if you’d like to see my beautiful girl on the screen. For she was beautiful, the spitting image of me. Maybe that’s why nobodyquestioned her parentage. People only see what they want to see.

I saw your grandmother occasionally over the years. She tended many gardens in my neighborhood. As her business flourished, I saw her trucks everywhere. I never approached her. But I missed her friendship, and once, I was tempted to stop as I drove past. Then I saw her, Magnolia’s daughter—your mother. She was young, but she looked identical to Matty’s boyhood photos. She was his, and the sight of her ripped out my heart. You, my dear, have the look of him. It would explain why I tolerated your company as infrequently as I have. Your presence was both heartwarming and heart wrenching.

But back to your grandmother. For years I despised Magnolia, envied her with passion. I wished I’d never ventured to the grocery store that day we met. I was supposed to have Matty’s child.

I went decades without seeing Magnolia, or even thinking about her. Then eight or so years ago, after she sent me countless letters that I never read or replied to—I just couldn’t—she visited my house, pleading to mend the rift between us. She’d recently been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and wanted to settle her affairs before losing her memory entirely. She didn’t want to die with regrets. I turned her away. By that time, I was too lost in my own despair because Aubrey had long since left me.

It’s taken me years to admit that I am as much if not more at fault for what’s between Magnolia and me, that my desire to remain relevant among Hollywood’s power players, where I felt closest to Matty and to the mother I lost as a little girl, and myrelentless crusade and incessant push to see Aubrey succeed in Matty’s footsteps drove my own daughter away. And her poor boy. How ignorant and callous of me to think ignoring him in my own home would help me ignore my grief. I might have lost my daughter, but he lost his mother.

So, my dear Julia, at the request of your grandmother when she told me where I could find her if I ever wanted to put the past to rest, I arrived here at Rosemont intent on telling her the truth about Aubrey. But we both know how that went. I was too late. I am also tired.

I don’t expect we’ll see each other again, but if there’s one piece of advice I can impart, it is to forgive. I couldn’t forgive Matty for dying, or Magnolia for falling in love with him. I couldn’t forgive Aubrey for leaving me, or my grandson, Matt, for not saving her. If there is anyone who’s wronged you, and I know for a fact there is—you know exactly whom I’m referring to—forgive her. You’ll regret you never took the chance.

Don’t live your life with regrets. Just live as fully as you can. Take it from one who knows: you can reshoot a scene multiple times, but you cannot do over your life.

My regards,

Elizabeth Holloway

CHAPTER 47

MATT

Key Largo, Florida

What Matt remembers of his parents is that their story was a love story. Aubrey and Joel were teenagers when they met. Joel had worked for the company that owned the yacht Elizabeth chartered for a weekend cruise to Catalina Island. They kept their romance secret for a couple of years because Aubrey knew Elizabeth wouldn’t approve of their relationship. They ended up eloping to Las Vegas and, from there, moved to Key Largo, where Joel worked for a charter fishing company and eventually bought out the owner when he retired. Aubrey was an elementary school teacher. She was also the best mom a rambunctious, adventurous boy like Matt could have had.

His parents didn’t have much. But they had a bungalow near the seawall with a dock off the back deck in a canal that fed into the Atlantic. They had neighbors they treated like family. And they had each other until Joel died in a boating accident during a tropical storm that had moved in faster than meteorologists predicted. His body was never recovered.

Matt could say he lost both parents in that storm. Joel’s death broke Aubrey. Matt didn’t get a chance to mourn his father because he’d beenforced to care for his mother. Neighbors helped. They brought over frozen meals Matt reheated, and they made sure he attended school. But they didn’t see the worst of Aubrey’s grief. Only Matt had been privy to her depression.

For over a month Aubrey spent her evenings seated atop the seawall, staring at the open ocean. Matt brought her dinners that she didn’t eat, and he brought her blankets she didn’t seem aware of when he draped them over her shoulders to ward off the night’s chill. He sat with her, listening to her stories about where she thought his dad had ventured off to and why he hadn’t yet returned. The story she told the most was the one where Joel was living on a small island with an abundance of coconuts, its waters alive with shrimp. He had plenty to eat, but his boat was broken. He had no way to return to them. It was up to her to save him, for she possessed a certain magic. At will, she could turn into a mermaid. She said that’s why she loved living by the ocean. And in her story, when the moon was full enough to guide the way, she would swim to the tiny island that was a speck in the vast sea and rescue him.

Matt knew these were just stories. He didn’t believe in them. But she must have, because one evening he heard the motor of his dad’s skiff. It had been over a month since Matt heard that sound, and for a moment, he thought it might be his dad. He rushed outside.

“What are you doing?” he asked, panicked to find his mom in the boat.

“Your dad needs me.” She tossed the oars onto the dock, alarming Matt.

“He’s gone, Mom. He’s not there. You’re not going to find him.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll find him.” She smiled, but the light in her eyes had long gone out, and that worried Matt.

He couldn’t convince her to get out of the skiff, so he jumped in just as she pushed away from the dock.

She barely acknowledged him. But off they went, winding through the neighborhood and out into the open ocean as the sun dipped below the horizon.

It grew dark fast, but from what Matt could see, they had a full tank of gas. Yet he couldn’t talk her into turning around, and his sobs didn’t deter her. She navigated at cruising speed for just under an hour until the skiff sputtered to a stop, the tank empty. Then she stared at the star-filled sky.

“There’s no moon tonight,” she said, sadly. Matt could barely make out the outline of her head.

“How are we supposed to get back?” There was an emergency kit on the skiff with a radio, but since the boat hadn’t been used for some time, Matt had neglected to keep it charged. They had no way to contact anyone on land.

“Sweet boy, I’m not going back.”

“W-what?”

The boat rocked under her weight as she shifted forward. She grasped his face, and he saw the flash of her white teeth when she smiled at him.

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