Page 25 of You, with a View

“When is this happening?” Mom asks.

“In a couple weeks.” Completely pulled that out of my ass. Hopefully it’s enough time to get myself together and go.

“And how are you going to pay for it if it’s not a paid thing?”

“I’ll use some of Gram’s inheritance.” I’ve been holding on to it, waiting for something she’d deem worthy. This is it, I know it.

Dad nods, his eyes shining. “She’d love that.”

I want to lay my head on the table and cry. What would he do if he found out about Paul? Would he care? Would it break him? Am I betraying him by not telling him about this, the way I feel betrayed by Gram for not telling me?

What a mess. What an absolute clusterfuck. And yet, now that I’ve decided, I have to see this through.

“Okay,” Mom says, her expression twisting from doubt to cautious optimism. “Yeah, this could be really good for you, Noelle.”

It could. And clusterfuck or not, I’m doing it.

Eight

When I show up at Paul’s house on Saturday, I bring guests. Thomas and Sadie wanted to tag along to see the map and anything else Paul is prepared to show, and Paul was gracious enough to accept us all for an early lunch.

He opens the door with his signature sunny smile, stepping aside. “Come on in, kids. I’ve set us up on the deck again.”

I beam at him as Thomas and Sadie introduce themselves, though my stomach does a somersault. I’m revealing my plan today, and I have no idea what he’ll say.

It takes everything in me not to run for the back. I want to pore over Gram’s letters, and I need to take another look at the map. Maybe I’ll take a picture of it or—best-case scenario—borrow it so I can take it with me. I’d also like to get details of the originally planned trip from Paul so I can plot my days out. The clock is officially ticking.

I’m so caught up in my to-do list that Paul and Thomas end up at the front of the pack as we walk in. When we get to the living room, Thomas gestures to the gallery wall, coming to a halt. “Noellewouldn’t stop talking about this after your visit. She said these are all your photographs.”

“They are indeed. I’ve been freelance, have worked withNational Geographicand other publications you probably wouldn’t know. Took me all around the world for a time.”

“When did you slow down?” I ask.

Paul gazes at the wall. “When Theo was born. He’s my only grandchild, so I have a bit of an affinity for him.” My heart softens at the affection on Paul’s face as he continues, “I lived in Los Angeles from college on. My son, Sam—that’s Theo’s dad—moved up here when Theo was in junior high, and Theo’s uncle, Mark, and his husband left for Arizona about a decade ago, so for a time it was just Vera and me.”

Thomas smiles over at me, both impish and proud. “Noelle’s a photographer, too.”

I resist the urge to play it down or deny it altogether as Paul eyes me.

“I had a feeling. She told me she wasn’t.”

“I’m nowhere close to you,” I say, gesturing at the display before us. Somehow, my hand ends up pointing right at that childhood portrait of Theo, and I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

Sadie weaves her arm through mine, shaking me gently. “You’re amazing.”

“She’s downplayed her talents, then,” Paul says with a sympathetic smile. Like he knows it’s an achy spot. I swallow and look down at Sadie’s long rainbow nails, bright and cheerful against my sun-starved skin.

“That sounds about right.” Thomas sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “The funny thing is, when she was in high school, she wouldn’t shut up about all the things she was good at.”

“What’s truly funny,” Paul says, “is Teddy talked quite a bitabout a very accomplished girl in high school. Now, it took me a bit of time to unravel all this after I met you last week, but I realized the name I always heard asStephwas actually Teddy talking about you and calling youShep.”

My heart plops into my stomach. “I’m sorry, what? He talked about me in high school?”

Next to me, Sadie inhales with barely concealed delight, her fingers digging into my arm. She won’t let go of the idea that this is fate’s way of bringing me the love of my life.

Maybe I’d play along otherwise, but the idea of Theo being the love of my life—or even the love of one single month in my life—sends icy fingers dancing down my spine.

“Yes, indeed. Theo spent every summer with Vera and me—”

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