Page 158 of Meet Me in the Valley
Last month, we had a scare that shook us all. Mom wandered off into the neighborhood and got lost. For two agonizing hours, we searched with hearts in our throats. Thankfully, a neighbor who recognized her brought her home safe.
Ever since that day, Mom’s worn a GPS tracker and never leaves the house without her medical ID bracelet, even if she complains that it “clashes with everything.”
We let her have that one small protest. Because the alternative? We’ve already lived that fear, and we’re not risking it again.
“You think Oma will be okay at the party?” sweet Cali asks.
The empathy she has for her grandmother pulls at my heartstrings. I thought that Cali turning thirteen recently would somehow ramp up the teen-angst, but turns out my niece is one in a million in the empathy department.
“You know, I think she’ll be alright. If things get a little too much, Opa will take her home,” I tell her, bopping the tip of her nose with my finger.
As we walk further into the house, we come to the large open living room space. It’s like the Fourth of July exploded in here, but in the most King family way.
An enormous American flag hangs across the back wall, draped like a theatrical curtain. Red, white, and blue bunting swags across the ceiling between wooden beams, lit by tiny battery-powered stars blinking from the garland like fireflies.
Cali squeals at the massive kitchen island, complete with a centerpiece of mini American flags, bowls of red and blue M&M’s, chocolate-dipped pretzels, and homemade sugar cookies shaped like stars.
Grace King saunters around the corner in a festive apron, her face lighting up the moment she sees us.
“You ladies made it!”
She opens her arms, and I step into her embrace, the soft scent of bergamot wrapping around me like a hug in itself—elegant, classy, and very Grace.
When we pull apart, I step aside. “Grace, this is my niece, Cali.”
“Hi!” Cali grins, extending a hand with nails painted red, white, and blue. “Your house is really pretty. It’s also the biggest one I’ve ever seen. And you smell amazing.”
Grace laughs, shaking her hand with amusement. “Why, thank you, Cali. It’s so lovely to meet you. My goodness, your eyes are beautiful.”
“Thank you! My mom says they look exactly like my dad’s. But I don’t know him. Never even seen a picture.”
The air shifts. Grace’s smile holds steady, but it’s softer now, gentler. Discomfort flickers across Nora’s eyes as the color drains from her face.
I know Cali’s dad is a sensitive topic for Nora. Something we don’t bring up or talk about in great detail. But Cali is a teenager now. It’s only natural for her to be curious about her father.
“Calista,” Nora says quickly, her voice light but tight around the edges, “that’s not something you need to share with everyone, babe.”
Cali shrugs, unfazed as usual. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
Nora gives a tight-lipped smile, like she’s trying to keep something from unraveling.
I give a half-hearted laugh to break the tension that’s suddenly simmering just below the surface now.
“And this is my sister, Nora. She and Cali are visiting from Las Vegas for the month.”
Grace extends her hand, gracious as ever.
Nora takes it, but there’s hesitation in the movement, just a fraction too long before her fingers close around Grace’s. Nora’s smile is there, but it seems performative, like slipping on a mask. It’s not exactly cold, but there’s no mistaking the restraint in her demeanor.
I glance at her, filing it away. There’s something tight in her posture and the way her eyes flit around the room like she’s looking for an exit.
“Welcome, Nora. So glad you could make it.”
“Thank you,” Nora says almost sheepishly.
But I don’t overthink it. Not now. It could be nothing—or something we’ll unpack later, when the house isn’t buzzing with people and red, white, and blue everything.
Before I can dwell on it any further, the back door swings open, and there’s my Logan, looking like every sinful summer fantasy I’ve ever had.
