Ella’s gaze bore into his. “All right,” she said. She didn’t look at all happy.
And he didn’t feel at all happy. He felt a deep dread that made his stomach nauseous. Somehow, this moment felt like … the end. Like what they’d had the night before was only a dream. And when he came home tonight, they’d be back to what they’d been to each other all the past decade—
Ex-lovers.
He couldn’t bear it if he couldn’t lie with her again and show her with his body how much she meant to him. And he suddenly realized that when he’d told her he was crazy in love with her, she’d never said it back.
All day on the set with Samantha, he comforted himself with the knowledge that Ella had consented to “let go and let love.” Wasn’t that the same as saying she loved him?
He hoped so.
He asked Samantha what she thought.
“I think you and Ella have some issues to work out,” she said. “Big ones. You’re leaving. She’s staying. That’s pretty much a deal breaker if you’re thinking about a relationship. I mean, some people do long-distance, but can you really? Don’t you have a full schedule the next two years? Long-term work that takes you all over the world?”
“Malaysia, Australia, Chile, and northern Alaska.” He’d told her about it earlier in the week. But he wished she didn’t have to sound so practical. Then again, that was what one had to do if one wanted to stay an A-lister in Hollywood, look at the bottom line.
And follow it.
Samantha’s expression had never seemed so sad to Hank. “I will say this,” she said in a quiet voice right before they each left the set—and promised to meet up in Montreal for dinner the night before they were to report to that set. “Doing what we do isn’t easy. You’re a nomad a lot of the time, if you want to stay relevant. L.A., New York—these are your places to rest. But a lot of the time, you won’t be around to hang out with your loved ones. Have you talked to Beau? He lives in Charleston, and he’s still doing really well.”
Hank scratched his head. “He’s filming in England. And he took his wife and son with him. But yeah, I could talk to him.”
Samantha’s smile brightened. “Good. Maybe he has the answer. I wish I did.”
But Beau didn’t have much to say on the matter. “It all depends on the couple,” he said. “Lacey can take her work with her. She’s a writer. So that’s made it fairly easy for us. I don’t know what I’d do if she had a job in Charleston where she couldn’t leave without losing a big part of her identity. I’d have to quit my job, I guess. But I do love my work, and luckily, I haven’t had to give it up. Maybe someday that’ll change. Good luck, man.”
“Thanks,” Hank said.
That night Hank had a lot of fun with Pammy and Ella. They got pizza from Uncle Sal’s delivered—mushroom, sausage, and red peppers—and played all their favorite games. First, for Pammy, English rummy, which she won hands down. Then, for Ella, Scrabble. After Ella killed both Pammy and Hank in that, they went to the Blind Tiger for pool, which he loved. But he was off his game again, and Pammy won.
On the way home, the dread he’d felt that morning came back. Pammy seemed to sense his agitation—and Ella’s. Ella had gotten very quiet at the Blind Tiger.
“I’m gonna go spend the night with the nonnas,” Pammy said when they got back to the carriage house. “Reggie offered to have me stay over, but I’m playing hard to get—only because I am hard to get.”
“Whatever you say,” Hank told her, and kissed the top of Pammy’s head.
Ella laughed, which was a good sign. She was showing more spirit. “You’ll have fun with the nonnas.”
“They’re binge-watching eighties movies like The Breakfast Club,” Pammy said. “I’m so there. They said I can sleep on the couch. The Sicilian relatives have the guest room.”
She went straight to her room to grab her toothbrush and pajamas, and Ella stood in the living room, her arms wrapped around her middle, which Hank thought of as her sick posture. In the old days, she did that whenever she was nervous. Or extra tired.
“You okay?” he asked her.
“Fine,” she squeaked.
Pammy came back out. “See you guys.”
And then a rush of wind swept through the living room, although no windows were open, and the curtains flew up.
All three of them stood there, eyes wide.
“So,” Hank finally said. “That was very weird.”
“Yeah.” Pammy swallowed hard. “I’m glad I’m getting out of here.”
Ella released a pent-up breath. “What was that?”
“Reggie told me Charleston has a lot of ghosts,” Pammy said.
“It does,” Ella said, “at least according to the locals. Buxton Books runs a ghost tour each night. The owner wrote a book on Charleston’s ghosts.”
“I want to go on that tour soon,” Pammy said. “How about it, Ella? After Hank leaves.”
“Sure,” Ella said, sounding sad.
Their life apart was starting very soon.
Was she ready?
Was he?
“So going out on a very long limb, if that, uh, disturbance was something paranormal,” Hank said, “I wonder if it could have been the child in the picture, the one who didn’t make it back to shore.”
“Or maybe it was the groom who helped the boys make the raft,” said Pammy. “He must have felt terrible when the disaster happened.”
“Maybe it’s the person who painted the boys,” said Ella. “There’s no signature on it. But I can tell it was someone who adored them.” She’d looked closely at the portrait after she and Hank had made love the last time.
“We’re never gonna know what that ridiculous blast of air was,” Pammy said, “but if it’s not screwed-up ductwork in the heating and cooling system, it was a ghost—obviously someone filled with regret. And they’re sticking around to let us know they’re frustrated about it.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “It’s okay,” she yelled to the house. “Life goes on.” She paused. “Or not,” she whispered to Hank and Ella and made a comic grimace. “Maybe I should sleep with Reggie tonight.”
Ella grabbed Pammy’s hand. “Whatever you decide, send the nonnas and Mama—or Reggie—my love.”
“Will do. Wherever I wind up, I’m staying for a big breakfast, so this is it, cuz. Instead of ‘Bye,’ I’m gonna say ‘Boo.’”
They hugged. Made promises to see each other soon.
“I want you to know something,” Pammy told Hank at the door. “You don’t have to worry about me getting homesick. If this thing doesn’t work out with Reggie”—she slapped her heart—“I got me. I got my mad woodworking skills. And I got friends like Ella.”
“Love you, Pammy,” he said. “I’m not worried. You got this.”
She winked and pulled the door shut behind her.
Hank turned to Ella. “So,” he said. The feeling of dread was still there, but he’d ignore it. “I told you I wanted to talk to you alone. And now’s the time.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“We can stay somewhere else,” Hank said. “We can get a hotel room.”
“I’m not scared of whatever just happened.”
“Maybe it was a freak-out of the central air system,” Hank suggested. But he wondered—it had happened right after they’d talked about the boys in the painting.
“Maybe it was a messed-up air duct,” Ella conceded. “But if it wasn’t, it makes me sad more than anything.” She swallowed and sat on the couch. “If it was a ghost, they wish they had a second chance. But it’s too late. They don’t want to accept it, and so they can’t rest. It’s sad.”
Hank sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. “You won’t be that person. You’re not going to come back and haunt people.” He allowed himself a small smile.
She folded her hands in her lap and looked down. “I’m afraid to hear what you’re going to say to me, Hank.”
“But Ella—”
&
nbsp; She stood, forcing his arm to drop away. “I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”
He stood too. “I really want to say it.”
She closed her eyes, took a breath, and opened them. “Okay.”
He took her hands. “I want a second chance with you, whatever that means for us. I want to commit to you and work this out. We should be together.”
She looked at him a long time. “I’d like that too. But”—she paused a beat—“it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late,” he said. “You told that to Pammy. You have to live and love to the end.”
“I am living and loving, Hank.” She sounded so earnest. And bright. And true. She sounded like the love of his life. “When you showed up Monday, I was already doing that. And I always will. Which is why I’m not going to throw it all away—what I have here in Charleston—to follow you around the world. I don’t want to be an appendage of you, consigned to the shadows while you’re a big movie star. I’m happy for you. I really am. But doing this movie made me realize I don’t care about pursuing that kind of career anymore myself. I get to indulge my creative side right here at the Dock Street Theatre, and as a matchmaker, as a wannabe cook, and as a woman who has to juggle being part of a large family. I want to be the star of my own life, Hank. I am the star of my own life, and it feels right to hold onto that. I hope you understand.”
Everything she said made sense. But he didn’t have to like hearing it. “I love you, Ella.” His entire body felt heavy with sadness. And fear. How could he continue living his life without her? “I never stopped.”
“I love you too, Hank,” she said right away. “I never stopped either. But life got in the way. And we forged new paths. Are you willing to change yours?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.” He really didn’t. It was like looking down a deep, dark well without a flashlight. He couldn’t see.
“Let’s pretend you do know,” she said. “Let’s say you’re willing to bend over backward to accommodate the fact that I’m not going to change my life for you. Don’t you think you’d resent that after a while? That you’d be doing all the heavy lifting?”
“No,” he said, then quickly amended that to, “I don’t know.”
Because he didn’t know. He had to be honest with her.
A small, sad smile formed on her lips. “You were right, all those years ago. Loving each other isn’t enough. Papa taught me we have to listen to our hearts and our own passions that have nothing to do with anyone else. They’re part of who we are. I loved acting way before I knew you, Hank. And I loved my family. I also loved how much my parents loved each other and knew that somehow that love would guide me, and it did, toward my career as a matchmaker. What did you love before me, Hank? Or maybe after? Whatever it is, let it guide you too.”
He was devastated. But everything she said—it mattered. It made sense. How to respond? How to respond when the love of your life admits she doesn’t need you?
And did he need her? He’d been acting like it. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe he still had learning to do.
“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “I’ve been looking. When we first met, I was looking. And … then you came.”
“It has to be more than me,” she said. “I hope you find it. It’s in you somewhere. You just need to find it. Everything you’ve done so far in your adult life points toward acting being your passion. You’re so good at it, Hank.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough.” He felt empty inside, saying that.
“Before you say another word”—she put her fingers on his lips—“I’m leaving. I wish you all the best.” She dropped her hand and grabbed her purse from the coffee table. “I don’t need anything. I’ll come back after you leave tomorrow.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
At the door she said, “Goodbye, and good luck with the movie. Thanks for getting me that role. It really helped me see what matters to me the most. And you know what? It doesn’t take long to figure it out. You don’t have to take another ten years. Maybe it will happen in a week.”
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The last time Ella had been to her mother’s house, she’d been crying. Pammy had been there, too, out in the living room with the nonnas, watching their eighties movies. Pammy cried, too, and said Hank was a lost soul, like that maybe-ghost at the carriage house.
And Ella said, “No, he’s not!” And then she cried, and said, “Maybe he is.”
She didn’t know.
“He’s looking for something,” Pammy said, and as she often did when she was agitated, she took her level out of her pocket and put it on the coffee table. “This isn’t level.”
Nonna Boo reminded her that most old houses in Charleston had floors that weren’t quite level, and that they liked it that way. And that life wasn’t level either, and everyone had to deal with it.
Even so, Pammy insisted on quitting the eighties binge movie marathon and going back to the carriage house to be with Hank, but when she texted him to let him know, he texted back that he was already in a taxi heading to the airport. His pilot was willing to take him straight back to New York. He told Pammy he was okay, and he wanted her to keep binge-watching eighties movies and to stay with the Mancinis, who were a very wonderful family. Unless she wanted to wind up at Reggie’s that night. Hank approved. He thought Reggie was a very good guy and an excellent mayor.
Mama put Ella to bed in her bed, the one she used to share with Papa, and assured her that she herself would do fine staying with Nonna Sofia, who didn’t move when she was sleeping. Mama knew this because when Papa had died, she’d flown back to Italy and slept with Nonna Sofia in her tiny apartment, the one she got after she was widowed. Nonna Sofia had had only one bed there. Mama had stayed for two weeks, and by the end of it, she was ready to go back to the States and start again.
But then Ella told Mama she wanted her to sleep with her. And Mama said, “Maybe sleeping with Nonna Sofia helped me too.” So Mama slid into bed with Ella, and Ella wrapped her arms around her, and they fell asleep together.
Ella did that for two weeks. Not just for her, but for Mama. Because in that time, Mama found out her beloved papa—Guiseppe—wasn’t her biological father. The vineyard owner’s son was. They consulted with Nonna Alberta, who told Mama and confessed that as hard as it was to hear, she was relieved to know the truth. Together the three women decided Nonna Sofia wouldn’t be relieved at all, and it might devastate her, probably because Nonna Sofia kept saying over and over, “I will be devastated, daughter, if your papa is not your father.”
So Mama kept the secret of her ancestry hidden from Nonna Sofia but not from Nonna Boo, nor from her brothers and sisters. She also told them the news that Nonna Alberta had held back until she knew the truth—that Mama was heir to a vineyard. Mama didn’t care. But Nonna Alberta said someday she would.
So Mama decided she would send Ella over to check out the new family property in Palermo as soon as Ella felt up to it—“which might be never,” Mama said hopefully. “Who cares?”
But Ella told her mother that while she was there, she would lay flowers on the grave of Guiseppe, Mama’s beloved papa, who would always be Mama’s papa and Ella’s grandfather, no matter what. And she told her mother that it would be nice to have the vineyard, the site of Nonna Sofia’s and Guiseppe’s love story, in the family. She reminded Mama that Guiseppe used to lay grapes and sprigs of marjoram and thyme outside Nonna Sofia’s door.
Mama had softened a bit at that, and Ella booked two tickets to Palermo, which she would visit after the big Aquarium gala with Uncle Sal, who was a rock to her after her own papa’s death and still was.
The night of the gala, Ella was in no mood to go. She hadn’t wanted to socialize since Hank left. She’d thrown herself into her work. Even Jill, her sweet sister who’d arrived back home with her husband Cosmo, couldn’t convince Ella to do anything, not even walk the Ravenel Bridge with he
r, which was something they’d both liked to do together for exercise.
The only reason Ella was going to the gala was because she had to be there to see Roberta on her date with a fabulous guy she’d met after eating that ten thousandth cheddar penny—which she did at a big “Champagne and Cheddar Penny Party” at Macy and Deacon’s house, where all Roberta’s friends gathered to wish her well and take home boxes of cheddar pennies their friend had packaged and tied with a beautiful ribbon that said TRUE LOVE CHEDDAR PENNIES, the name of her new baking company.
This man wasn’t any of the dates Ella had chosen for Roberta through Two Love Lane. Roberta decided not to go on those dates. Nor was he Pete, who wound up asking Miss Thing if she needed an escort to the gala after Miss Thing ignored him for a week, which was very hard on her because she’d gotten used to drinking her Price Is Right coffee every day, the one where Pete yelled “Come on down!” to whoever ordered it, in honor of Miss Thing’s Double Showcase win.
This date of Roberta’s was the owner of a taco food truck who had used the same commercial kitchen Roberta had. While Roberta was baking her cheddar pennies, he was making taco filling and his homemade salsa on the other side of the kitchen. They’d become fast friends, and Roberta had had no trouble chatting with him while she was mixing, rolling, chilling, slicing, and baking her cheddar pennies.
“Because we were just friends,” she explained to Ella. “It’s easy to talk to someone who’s just friends. I was able to talk to him after he asked me out on a real date because I’d eaten that ten thousandth cheddar penny.”
Ella decided to let Roberta decide for herself why she was talking to her new man, who happened to be called Robert.
“I always vowed never to date a Robert or a Bob,” Roberta said, “and look at me now!”
Yes, things were going well for Roberta, but the real test was tonight. She’d only been out on five dates with Robert, and while they’d gone spectacularly well, she retained a bit of nervousness about the Aquarium event.
“This is the realest date of all,” Roberta told Ella. “Because I’m wearing a gorgeous gown, and he’s in a tux. We’ll be like a prince and a princess, and I have a feeling that after the night’s over, Robert might ask to stay over and maybe say nice things to me.” She blinked a million times. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to speak because I really, really like him. And then he’ll be hurt when I just stare at him, and he’ll go home and never call me again.”
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