Page 18 of Chasing the Horizon

Victor laughed. “You’d better believe it. You have your thinking cap on?”

“I left it at home,” Valerie said. “Should I go back and get it?”

“You can borrow one of your mother’s,” Victor teased. “She has buckets of them.”

After Valerie finished shopping for her parents, she was pleased when a grocery clerk offered to take her bags out to her trunk for her. This left her shivering and running after him all the way back to her car, where she immediately turned on the heat and blew on her hands. She tipped the grocery employee, hollering a thank-you through the inch of the open window as he ran back to the comfort of the store.

It was her first real winter in Nantucket in years. And she was doing it pregnant.

It would be a doozy.

Things with her father had more or less resolved since that first writing session, which Valerie often struggled to believe. They were already about a quarter of the way through with a stiff chapter outline and plenty of plans ahead. It felt sure to both of them that they’d have the thing finished by the time the baby came, which was a relief. Valerie wouldn’t have time to work on it and didn’t want to leave her father in the lurch.

Just last week, Victor had said, “I was terrified to work on a project with someone else, but you’ve opened my mind to new possibilities and new ways of being creative. I have to hand it to you.”

Valerie had practically floated home.

Now, as Valerie pulled into the driveway, the garage door burst open—not a frequent thing but proof that her parents were watching out for her and eager to help her inside. Just then, a bundled-up Esme and Victor appeared in the shadows, hurrying to help Valerie bring in all the groceries before she froze to death. Once inside, the kettle roared.

“Great idea, Mom,” Valerie said, taking the kettle off the heat and running her hands above the hot burner. “We’re going to need tea and lots of it.”

“Actually, it was your father’s idea to put the kettle on,” Esme said with a smile, leafing through the bags to take out what needed refrigeration.

Victor offered a sheepish smile. “I have some good news.”

It seemed like he didn’t want to linger on anything he’d done “right.” He didn’t want that kind of attention.

“What’s up?” Valerie opened a bag of vegetable chips and crunched.

“Julia called today,” Victor said. “She says she has a potential interview set up for us.”

“An interview? Before the book’s even written?” Valerie’s ears rang.

Victor looked nervous. “Apparently, some journalist has followed my career or something. And he wants to know where we’re headed as a team.”

Valerie was conscious of how careful her father was not to brag about his past. It was something she’d noticed lately—a tightening around his previous ego.

It made her happy. It made her understand that he was healing.

Was it all because of the couples therapy? Her mother refused to talk about it, and Valerie was too frightened to ask Victor himself. It was a net positive, though. Valerie hoped he kept it up.

“That will be fantastic for pre-orders. When is it?” Valerie asked.

“They’re asking for the Monday between Christmas and New Year’s,” Victor said, furrowing his brow. “But if it doesn’t work, he said we can reschedule any time in February.”

Valerie took another vegetable chip. Her cravings were roaring. As she crunched, she remembered that she’d already be in Manhattan because Catherine’s baby shower was the Saturday following Christmas. Valerie planned to spend the entire week in the city—to soak up the sights after the stress of such a big job.

“It’s great timing,” Valerie told her father, beaming.

She told him why, and Victor asked, “Think I can get an invite to that baby shower? They always have the best snacks at those things.”

Valerie laughed. “I’ll try to steal you a slice of cake when I go.”

She knew that wouldn’t be a problem. Baby showers, weddings, and birthday parties always had too much food. It meant everyone was eating turkey sandwiches for over a week after and freezing slices of cake.

They took the snacks and tea upstairs to Victor’s office, where they got to work, reading and editing each other’s notes and discussing the best strategies for the next chapter. What had been happening was that Valerie would sometimes write a chapter, and Victor would give his notes, and then they’d swap places, adding and deleting where they thought necessary. In that way the book was transforming into a sort of collage.

Valerie thought she’d never loved working on anything more.

---