Page 65 of Roses, Pearls, and Hot Summer Nights
I rose, getting the courage to ask, “Did you marry Ed?” He was the last person she mentioned in her description of the brothers, the one who wanted to talk to her about something important. “I don’t know who you married.”
She leaned over and hugged me, which I didn’t expect, so it took me a second to hug her back. “That is a big question, and I don’t mean to sound more important than I am, but I would rather you read the story in order in the journal. Trust me. It will make sense, particularly because of what I think is going on with you. See you in an hour.”
Well, that told me nothing.I headed for the shower, not surprised to find they provided shampoo and conditioner for me already. Even a toothbrush waited alongside a tube of toothpaste near the sink. Every touch struck me as really thoughtful.
I turned on the shower, and in seconds, the hot water poured down from above. I closed my eyes for a second under the spray, enjoying the heat, before I rushed through getting ready for the dinner.One mountain to climb to make sure my summer isn’t hellish. I can make it through one dinner with parents, right?
The silky texture of the shampoo lathered richly in my hair, enveloping me in the soothing aroma of lavender and chamomile. The thick and creamy conditioner melted away the knots and tangles, leaving my locks feeling smooth and hydrated. Eucalyptus and mint scented bar soap glided effortlessly over my skin, producing a refreshing tingle that invigorated my senses. The pampering made me feel luxurious and comfortable.
I sighed and turned off the water, my muscles practically slack. I tugged a towel off the warmer, enjoying the delicious sensation against my quickly cooling flesh. My damp hair, I thought, looking at my own misty reflection, would prove a problem.
Usually, I just left it to air dry or I braided it. I wanted to do something more, something that deserved to be worn with Dina’s beautiful pearls. I grabbed the provided hair dryer and got busy trying to tame the tangle of my hair. In the end, I wasn’t sure whether the product I added helped or not but my hair hung straight and long, just a little frizzy and vastly unlike its regular messy state.
Short of finding a hair stylist, there likely wasn’t much more I could do about it. I cut it once myself in California, but it ended in disaster, so I didn’t dare get scissors involved.
Instead, I considered the bright and brilliant bruise covering way too much of my face.Was that really just this morning?The stain on my face had become a deep bluish, purplish color, replacing the former redness entirely.I preferred the red.Without makeup, I couldn’t hide it, and even with foundation, I didn’t think it would vanish. I blew out a breath, since there wasn’t much I could do to change it.
Casual but nice. I thought. I remembered how my aunts dressed when they were going out—Tricia and Amelia might be over the top, but Aunt Susan, my uncle’s wife, had a style I admired. I stared at the closet where someone had hung all my clothing and tried to decide what would set the right tone.
I finally settled on a khaki skirt that fell just above my knees, paired with a blue button-collared shirt that I hoped would convey responsibility or something. I wasn’t sure exactly what I hoped to prove, other than I wasn’t wrong somehow. It seemed I always did the wrong thing or otherwise messed up lately. Maybe I could manage appropriate enough for the Hamptons? I kind of matched the color scheme in my bedroom, at least. The uncertainty gnawed at me—if only Julian could appear out of thin air and pick my outfit.
I slipped into my loafers, which weren’t comfortable, but would eventually need broken in anyway. I checked my reflection, smoothing down the skirt and adjusting the shirt’s collar, trying to reassure myself that I looked presentable.Do I?I took a deep breath.Overthink much?
With my collar unbuttoned on the top, I sat down at the vanity to put on the pearls—of course they fell perfectly.Dina’s pearls,I thought, then remembered,not even hers.
Her mother-in-law’s pearls. I touched them, their weight heavy and comforting at my throat. She thought they brought strength. Maybe they would?
A knock sounded, then Dina opened the door, not bothering to wait for me to answer.
I rose and she smiled at me, clasping her hands together. “Oh, you look perfect. Well done, sweet girl. Look at you. Those pearls are perfect. You look so elegantly understated, but your poor face! It’s really turning colors now. Does it hurt much?”
I touched it then winced. “Only when I, you know, touch it.”
She laughed, throwing her head back. “Tomorrow we’ll find some concealer. Or maybe not. You’ll be at the beach, doing summer things. Makeup will just melt off your face. Hmm. I’ll think on it.”
Arm-in-arm, we exited her house and walked toward the main house. I looked over my shoulder at the ocean. Lake Michigan had seemed like an ocean, but of course it wasn’t. I saw the Bay in San Francisco more than the ocean, because our apartment faced the water.No, their apartment. It had never been my apartment, just a place I occupied until they got bored with me.
I realized abruptly I hadn’t been anywhere that felt like mine, not since my mother died. Instead of admitting it, though, I gestured toward the ocean and said, “It’s so pretty.”
“The ocean? Yes.” She winked at me. “It’s very wet.”
I laughed and then covered my mouth as the sound banged out around us. My silly smile remained, though, because I loved the smell of the salt water, thinking thePoor Relationwould say the beach vibes were the Real Deal.
A tone of seriousness came into Dina’s voice. “Don’t ever cover up your laughter. A woman has the right to laugh as loud and proud as she wants. Only small people think otherwise, and I have no time for small people. Sometimes I make small people become bigger people, whether they like it or not.”
I stared at her, curious. “How do you manage that?”
“Work.” She waved her hand in the air. “Just takes forcing them to be better.”
My stomach clenched, and I asked her honestly, “Is that what you’re doing with me?”
She laughed so quickly, I knew it to be genuine. “With you? Not at all. You’re already a big, strong person on the inside. You’re young but it’s in there. I have no doubts when it comes to you, but I would like to keep your relatives from tripping up your life. They’re particularly small people, but I’m not going to bother with them. They were born small and meant to stay that way.”
We stepped inside the back door of the main house, and it seemed they’d lit every light they could find. The kitchen was to our left, the clank and clatter of dishes familiar as a chef and a woman who seemed like she was helping him scurried around. I overheard a bit of a conversation between cooks in some language I didn’t recognize, other than not being Spanish.
“Hello,” Dina called out to them, and they both stopped to grin at her. The chef waved, said something else in the lilting language, and went back to what he was doing.
She whispered in my ear, “I don’t speak Portuguese, but when he’s cooking, he forgets. The man is a gourmet chef and, frankly, such a good sport with Rosalind’s constantly changing menu needs. I don’t know what we would do without him. That is his daughter helping him. She’ll serve tonight, and they’re João and Maria Eduarda. They’ve been with us a long time. She is married now, which is incredible, with her own baby at home. Time certainly does go by quickly. Hmm.” She shook her head. “This way.”
