Left to Chance

by Amy Sue Nathan

  “But you said you didn’t really make a lot of new friends.”

  “I was wrong not to make friends when I left. And I was wrong to leave so many friends behind. I know that now.”

  “You should make friends who are photographers like you. Or like you somehow. That’s what I like about Chloe and Rebecca. They get it. They get me.”

  “That’s really good advice, kiddo.”

  “You should also get married and have kids. You should definitely have kids. Or at least get married.”

  Shay’s tone had shifted from wise to wistful. I knew where she was headed, but I wasn’t going there. Not tonight.

  “Maybe someday some of that will happen, but none of it is happening any time soon.”

  I said it without thinking, which was usually when the truth revealed itself most plainly.

  * * *

  Back at the house, I felt steady; no longer shaken by the past, with a new understanding having settled between me and Shay, even if she did want me to get married.

  “I’ll meet you in your room. I’m going to say hello to Violet.”

  Shay ran up the stairs and I walked to the kitchen. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Violet said. “I heard you two come in. Did you have fun?”

  I watched Violet pretend to dry a dish with a paper towel. “We did. I also told Shay I knew about what happened with those girls at school.”

  “Miles told me you knew. What did she say?”

  “She said she was sorry.”

  Violet turned around. “She’s doing better, but it’s been a rough year. Once everything at school calmed down we really believed that planning the wedding would be a good way to distract her, but it just seemed to make things worse.”

  “It didn’t seem so bad the other day. Except for the hating-the-shoes part.”

  “It’s getting better. We got along great until—”

  “Until you were going to be her stepmom.”

  “Yeah.”

  I stood across from Violet, her eyes cast downward. “It’ll get better,” I said.

  “I know.”

  Violet looked at me. When she spoke, the words rolled out without effort, as if she’d said them a thousand times before. “The counselor says Shay will have to see that I’m not going to erase all parts of Celia from their lives. I would never do that. Part of the reason I fell in love with Miles was because I could see how much he’d loved her. I wasn’t trying to take him away from Celia’s memory, but he was ready to move forward.”

  “And you met him in a grief support group?”

  “I did.”

  “Can I ask … I mean…”

  “My older sister, Lily.”

  I gasped.

  “She was my very best friend.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you are,” Violet said. “Because you understand. Miles has told me how you and Celia were like sisters.”

  We reached across the empty space and held hands. I nodded.

  “I’m going to talk to Shay, maybe I can help a little with all this. But not tonight. It’s already been a long day. Could I spend tomorrow night with her? Do you have anything planned?”

  “Miles is going out with his friends—a pseudo bachelor party at the microbrewery in Jeffersonville. I was just going to have my younger sister, Heather, come here, but I could meet her for dinner if you wanted the house to yourself with Shay. I think she’d rather be with you anyway.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I’m glad you’re here. And not just because of the pictures.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  I sat on Shay’s bed and scooted back to the headboard. It was the same bed she’d slept on when she was three. The only thing that had changed was that the ballerina bear comforter now was purple with polka dots.

  Shay lifted a sketch book off her desk, opened it, and laid it on the bed next to me.

  I leafed through the pages of pencil sketches, watercolors, and even some cartoons that looked like they were drawn with Sharpies. I left my camera on the floor, in the zipped-up bag. I wanted to just be with her. I would remember it with my heart, not by looking at something outside of myself. The silence lingered, likely just a few extra seconds, but it seemed like hours. Maybe we didn’t need any more words tonight. Perhaps the images we created in our minds were enough. The soft colors in her floral watercolors that so closely matched the garden in fall, with orange that looked like a match had singed the edges. With green rimmed in deep purple. I captured the scene in my thoughts. I wished there were Hester properties in New England. Or even here in Ohio. I’d never before realized that I missed feeling like I was not on vacation. Even working, I sometimes didn’t know what month it was because the weather didn’t match my internal barometer for seasons. January in Scottsdale was lovely but messed with my Midwestern sensibilities.

  I looked back at Shay. This was not the time for my wishes, or for Shay’s.

  I turned the page and saw a pastel drawing of Celia’s house—Shay’s house.

  “That’s your house. Shay, it’s perfect. Better than a photograph.”

  “Not really.”

  “Yes, really. Has your dad seen this?”

  “No.”

  “Has he seen any of these?”

  “Some.”

  “You should show him. He’d go crazy. They’re amazing.”

  “You should show him your pictures too.”

  “Those were private. Just between you and me, okay? I only shared them with you because of how special you are to me. And I knew you’d appreciate them. And you know what?” I pulled out my camera and scrolled through the photos. “I’m going to enter that one into the contest.” I pointed. “I’ll use this address on the entry form, since I travel so much. Uncle Beck will know it was all my idea, I promise.”

  “When you win you’ll have to come back.”

  “I’m coming back even if I don’t win, but a ribbon is a nice incentive.” I smoothed Shay’s hair.

  “Can I tell my dad about the contest?”

  “Let’s keep it between us for now. He’s got enough on his mind.”

  “Why? He’d be really happy you were coming back; I know he would be. It feels normal when you’re here, Aunt Tee. I think he feels that way too.”

  I turned and half crossed my legs on the bed. “I have amazing memories of your dad and mom and me. And you. All of us together. But it’s different now. That doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

  “I know, but you said you didn’t really make a lot of new friends, and you said you didn’t have a new best friend, so why couldn’t my dad be your best friend? It’s not healthy to be alone. I think I heard that on the news one day. You need a special friend, Aunt Tee.”

  “I have you.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “I promise I’ll work on having more friends if you’ll promise the same thing.”

  “Stay here, Aunt Tee. I don’t want you to leave. We’re friends. Best friends. You said so. You gave me my mom’s necklace.”

  I moved next to Shay. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Violet said she’s going to go out with her sister so you and I can have a girls’ night in. Sounds great, right?”

  “I mean don’t leave and go back to San Francisco!”

  “I’m not going to leave forever, Shay. Those days are over. I’ll be back a few times a year or more, and I’ve already mentioned to your dad about you coming out to San Fran to visit. You’ll love it there.”

  “But I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I know you don’t. But when school starts you’re going to be super busy. You’re going to keep taking art classes, you’ll be studying for your bat mitzvah, and you’ll be figuring out this whole new family with your dad and Violet. She loves you, Shay. And I love that.”

  Shay rolled her eyes.

  “Your mom would want you to give Violet a break.”

  “How do you know?”r />
  “Because your mom always wanted what was best for you.” And for me.

  “If my mom wanted what was best for me she wouldn’t have died.”

  I heard a tap on the door and then it opened. Shay slammed shut her sketchbook and shoved it under her pillow.

  “I don’t mean to be a party pooper,” Violet said, “but it’s getting late and Shay has an early class tomorrow. Plus, your dad’s on his way home from that campaign event and I’m sure he’ll want to tell us about it. You two can continue this tomorrow night. Okay, Shay?”

  “Whatever.”

  Chapter 18

  THE DREAM ENDED. I knew it would. That’s the downside to being awake inside a dream: you know the end, the curb, the cliff, is coming and that there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable except wake up, which in this case, wasn’t what I wanted at all.

  I’d talked to Celia.

  Celia’s voice had been her voice. Celia’s face had her face. She’d talked to me, she’d given advice. We’d laughed. I swore my side hurt.

  I’m not even sure she was alive in my dream but I’d talked to her, on the phone—one with a cord. Was there one like that here? Now? I looked around. No. But I was sure of it. I rubbed my arm where I’d wrapped the pink cord around it. There were no marks.

  “You sound good,” she’d said.

  “You too.”

  “It’s okay, I promise…”

  Her voice faded. Then my memory of the words faded as well. I squeezed my eyes tight as the images grew smaller. Me on the bed, Celia on—on what? A chair. A rocking chair. I was watching her on the phone talking to me. What was okay? What I’d done? What I hadn’t done? Or where she was? I opened my eyes and lay there, my hair across my face, my arms wrapped around me under the comforter.

  Don’t go yet.

  I waited to be sad and instead, I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I covered my face with my hands and shook my head, then I placed my hands together as if in prayer and slid them between my cheek and my pillow. I was calm, my limbs heavy and warm.

  I felt as if I’d talked to my best friend.

  I sighed, mindful of Celia’s fresh footprint on my heart.

  Or maybe it was a swift kick.

  * * *

  I flung open Perk’s door like I was late for an appointment. Just in case I saw someone I knew, which was more than likely, I stopped and adjusted the waist of my dress and smoothed my hair, ran my tongue over my teeth to insure I’d brushed them, as if the minty freshness wasn’t enough of a clue. The coffee aroma filled my nose and I heard the ticking of the wall clock I’d never noticed before, as well as the swish of the espresso machines, matched by the shuffle of the few newspapers.

  Today’s score: sensory overload, one; Teddi, zero.

  I hurried into a line three people deep. I turned around and looked for Josie in the clusters of coffee and tea drinkers. We hadn’t planned to meet, but she ended up at Perk almost every morning either post-run or pre-work or just because. It was almost nine; maybe Cameron would be free after his shift and sit with me. I reached into my pockets, touched my stone with one finger, and shimmied my dress a little lower on my waist, adjusting the neckline accidentally on purpose.

  I stepped to the counter and in front of a teenaged barista. Not Cameron the man-barista.

  “Welcome to Perk! How can I perk you up today?”

  “Uh.” I glanced to her left and then her right. “Uh. Oh, sorry. I’m just … is Cameron Davis working this morning?”

  The barista smiled but shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Oh, okay. I thought he worked mornings.”

  “Not today!” She said it with what I now believed was the mandatory Perk perkiness.

  “Do you know if he’s working tomorrow morning? I’m just curious.”

  “Nope!”

  “Okay, then.” Thank you for absolutely no information whatsoever. “Espresso macchiato. Two shots. Can I leave a message for him?”

  “For who?”

  “For Cameron.”

  “No need. Just turn around.”

  No. I turned around as a generic please-don’t-let-me-look-like-a-fool prayer dashed through my thoughts. Whew.

  The door was closing behind Cameron and Deanna as they stepped into the coffee shop. I waved, they waved, and I turned back to Ms. Perky and paid my $3.50 in penance.

  I sipped and read the same issue, perhaps the only issue, of the Chance Gazette. I’d almost memorized it when Cameron walked over, cup in hand. Deanna followed.

  “Hi, Teddi, this is my sister, Deanna.” He looked at me as if to say, You know, the one you darted away from when you saw her with Beck. “Deanna, this is Teddi Lerner.”

  “Nice to meet you, Deanna.” I stood and shook her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too. How does it feel to be back in Chance?”

  I opted for honesty. “It feels good. And a little strange.”

  “I love it here for me and Morgan but I bet it doesn’t compare to San Francisco.”

  “San Francisco’s a great city, that’s true.”

  “The restaurants, the Bay, Chinatown, Fisherman’s Wharf, the views…”

  “It’s a wonderful place to work.”

  “You do a lot of traveling, too.” Deanna rolled her eyes. “Chance must feel like a step back in time. Bet you can’t wait to get back to real life.”

  “We should go, Dee. See you soon, Teddi?” Cameron tapped my arm once, and I nodded.

  “It was so nice to finally meet Cam’s crush,” Deanna said.

  Cameron shook his head. “My sister has a big mouth. Gotta love her, though. She’s keeping a roof over my head this summer.”

  I chuckled, softened by Deanna’s familiarity and Cameron’s playfulness. I turned to Deanna. “Cameron told me that I broke his eight-year-old heart. I apologized profusely, I promise.”

  “His eight-year-old heart too? Is that so?” She winked at me and nudged her brother. “I had no idea.”

  * * *

  I sat on an Adirondack chair in the midst of the butterfly bushes in the garden behind Nettie’s. I drew my knees to my chest and draped the skirt of my dress down to my ankles. No missed calls today, but two from Annie from yesterday. I exhaled as a monarch flitted by.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t talk yesterday. Things are a bit crazy here. Was it important?”

  “Taken care of. Rescheduled Arturo for the tux shoot.”

  “The what?”

  “The tux shoot? The designer who’s using La Jolla as their set for the shoot for his spring collection? Arturo. You gave them the tour of the property, Teddi. What’s up with you?”

  “Oh, right. Nothing.”

  “Something’s up. In the five years I’ve known you it has never taken you two hours to return my call, let alone twelve. Can I help?”

  “Did you send my clothes? It’s important that I have my clothes.”

  “They will be there, pressed and ready to go.”

  “And if they aren’t?”

  “They will be.”

  “Did you—”

  “Yes, I packed two of everything in case some tipsy Aunt Eloise bumps into you and spills her cosmo.”

  “I’m going to ask you something but you can’t tell Simon I asked.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Has Simon said anything about me while I’ve been gone? I’ve only talked to him once.”

  “You mean like ‘It’s quiet around here’?”

  “Very funny.”

  “No, really, he misses you. You two spend a lot of time together.”

  Do we?

  “He said you two make a great team.”

  “Why did he say that?”

  “He was buzzing around his office, the door was open, and I walked by. He called me in.”

  “He never calls anyone into his office.”

  “He asked me if you were happy here.”

  “Here where? Here meaning Hester Hotels? Or here meaning him?” Annie
and I had never outwardly acknowledged that I was sleeping with Simon, but it was understood after the first time he and I returned from a three-hour lunch and then ordered takeout.

  “I wasn’t sure. He said he’s left-brain bossy and you’re right-brain bossy and that makes you two a great fit.”

  Were we?

  * * *

  I just wanted to drive, but wished I had a convertible, a head scarf, a pair of cat-eye sunglasses, and my best friend.

  I headed out of Chance anyway.

  The sky was blue with few clouds. The landscape was peaceful, flat, and green in this part of the county. It wasn’t filled with landmarks or anything notable, and I found it inviting, but not in the let-me-post-it-on-Instagram way. The farther I got from Chance the more familiar it seemed, as if bits of the past had scattered and I was gathering them.

  I turned and headed back to town, for no other reason than I didn’t want to run out of gas in the middle of the country where there was spotty cell reception and no gas stations. Then, as if by chance, yet not at all, I ended up on the most western end of West Avenue, heading toward the cemetery. I pulled into the parking lot facing the grounds. I looked across, my line of vision skimming the tops and around the edges of headstones. There was Cameron, walking toward me, scribbling onto a notepad, turning away from the sun to shade his face and guard his words.

  I lifted my hand. He turned as if to look behind him, and then turned back toward me. Yes, I’m waving at you, not the dead people.

  “We really have to stop meeting like this.” Cameron pressed his forearms onto the open window.

  “Did you find the story you’re going to write? The dash you want to fill in?”

  “I think I have.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What brings you here, Teddi? This isn’t your usual hot spot.”

  “I was looking for you.”

  I pulled on the door handle and Cameron stepped back two paces. He walked closer and stood in front of me. I should’ve shut the door. My heart pounded. The breeze had died down but I pushed back my hair, in case it was thinking of going anywhere. If I stepped forward I’d bump into Cameron; if I stepped back I’d be in the car. I’d confined myself. I had no one else to blame. Or thank.

  “Why were you looking for me?”