Page 134 of The Comeback Summer

Mazel Tov on your special day! You have a bright future ahead of you. As you follow your path towardwomanhood, you will see many footsteps from those who have gone before you. I encourage you to use those footsteps as a guide, but I also want to caution you not to follow them too closely.

As the great writer Joseph Campbell said, “If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take.”

Someday, you will come to a point where there are no footsteps ahead of you, and you may find yourself faltering. But in that moment, you will know that you are truly creating your own destiny.

Remember that the best legacy is a life well lived, a path well chosen.

With love,

Ruth Freedman

“I miss her so much,” Libby whispers.

I nod, silently agreeing. I miss her wisdom, her grace, her total lack of tolerance for bullshit. GiGi forged her own path, proving the naysayers wrong, creating a thriving business at a time when women weren’t thought of as leaders.

The words on this card weren’t written for us, but they feel like ours all the same.

“Maybe we’ve been too focused on continuing GiGi’s legacy,” I say quietly.

Libby’s eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe we need to find our own paths”—I point to the card—“instead of following hers.”

“But GiGi made a real difference in this world, and she entrusted her company to us. I hate the thought of letting it fall apart because we don’t have what it takes.”

I hate that, too. And yet, something else is forming in my mind, shifting from thoughts into words.

“I don’t think GiGi would’ve wanted her gift to be a burden,” I say. “Maybe her legacy isn’t the company—maybe it’s everything she taught us. About working hard, taking risks, being compassionate. Maybe...” I pause. “Maybe her legacy is us.”

Libby nods, and as we sit in silence, my mind drifts to the work I’ve been doing for Serena and Preeti, how I’ve been using the skills GiGi taught me—and some I’ve learned on my own, too.

“Have I ever told you about the podcastMurder on the Mind?” I ask.

“Maybe? I’m sorry, sometimes I—”

“Tune it out, I know,” I say, lightening my voice so she knows I’m teasing. “The hosts of the podcast have a book coming out, and I pitched myself to them.”

Libby’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s—”

“Not how we work, I know, but—”

“I was going to say impressive,” Libby says, giving a small smile. “Tell me about it.”

Relieved, I pull over my laptop to show her what I’ve been working on.

“It’s really good,” Libby says when I finish. “I just wish you would have included me. And I wish you would’ve told me everything you’ve been feeling about work.”

The hurt in her voice pricks at my heart. “I should have,” I say. “Instead I let all my frustrations bubble out at the worst moment, and I’m sorry. I do love working with you. But sometimes, you can be a little...”

“Bossy? Overbearing?” she says, wincing.

“I was going to say assertive. But here’s the thing: I let you take on that role. I let you take care of me, ever since we were little. That wasn’t fair to you.”

My sister waves her hand, like that’s not a big deal. “But I’msupposedto take care of you. If I don’t...”

Libby hesitates, and I expect her to say,If I don’t, then who will?

Instead, she says, “Then who am I?”

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