Page 62 of Shortcake
“Mom’s book,” I said, peeking over the top of the counter and smiling at the faded cover image. A corner was missing from the front cover. The spine was broken and creased, read more times than any book in our house. Pages were dog eared, sacrilegiously.
Addy looked up, meeting my gaze for the first time since we’d come home from the bookstore. Something unspoken passed between us. A moment of clarity. Of understanding. A truce of sorts.
Blinking, she looked at Harper. “Maybe your dad wants to read it first, before I do?”
“I’ve read it,” I said. “Twice.”
This time, her blink was filled with surprise. “Youhave?”
“Youhaven’t?”
A smile twisted her mouth, like she was trying to resist it. “I cheated in high school… watched the movie and read the cliff’s notes.”
“You only cheated your—“
“Self,” both she and Harper finished for me, then she sent a wink to my daughter.
“I know,” Addy added. “That’s why I want to read it now.” She set the book down, then resumed chopping vegetables. “Did you read it in high school?”Thwack, thwack.
I went to the cabinet and grabbed another cutting board and knife. “The first time, yes. Then I read it again this last year to my mom while she was sick in the hospital.”
I’d read it to her every night that she lay dying.
In some ways, I thought she was waiting to take her final breath until she heard me say the final sentence in the book:…by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.
I picked up the zucchini, squash, and eggplant, determined to help Addy in any and every way I could. Turning on the sink, I rinsed the vegetables beneath the running water.
“You don’t have to do that,” Addy said.
I shrugged. “I want to help with dinner. Maybe I’ll learn how to make something other than Mac and cheese.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Harper said. “You’re pretty good on the grill.”
“Oh yeah?” Addy asked, one brow arching like a cat stretching after a long nap. “I bet I’m better.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
Addy grinned as I gestured at the zucchini. “How do you want these sliced? And what are we making?”
Addy cleared her throat, the smile fading.Thwack. “Um… well, I’m making ratatouille. But it’s to take to my family for our weekly dinners.”
Whatever little hope I’d had that she’d come up to spend time with me popped and deflated. Why would she? Afterall, I’d been the one to push her away today at the bookstore.
Not because I wanted to. I wanted Addy more than I wanted any woman in my life.
But my priorities were all out of whack.Harper. Harper had to be my number one priority and letting myself spend time with Addy? Fall for Addy? It was selfish. It was selfish to all of us in a time that my daughter needed me. I moved us here to escape bad situations. To give Harper a better life. A life I didn’t have as a kid. A life where there was nature and trees and a lake and good kids who join book clubs in the summer.
As much as we’d loved living in Brooklyn, we were beholden to it for as long as my mother had stayed alive. It was her city. Her state. At first, I couldn’t leave because I needed the help raising Harper. But after a few years, it became less and less about us needing her help… and more and more about her needing ours.
So we stayed.
We stayed longer than we should have.
We stayed to help out.
We stayed because it was easier for Harper’s mom to fly in for a quick visit… on the rare occasion she would.
We stayed because Harper and my mom had a bond that was unlike anything I’d ever seen in my adult life.
