“Really?” Her son looked at me with interest.
I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to shift the conversation away from me. “I hear you got a telescope for Christmas.”
“Yeah, but I can’t figure out how to set it up.”
“How about I take a look after dinner and see if I can help?”
He pushed his glasses up his nose and grinned. “That would be great.”
After that, conversation centered mostly on the New Year’s Eve party, their upcoming ski trip and what the conditions on the mountain would be like, and plans for a big retirement party for John in the spring, which would coincide with Cloverleigh’s fortieth anniversary. Whitney stopped studying me and mostly stared at her plate, but every now and again I couldn’t help noticing her watching the way Sylvia smiled at me, or put her hand on my arm, or paid me a compliment. Despite how delicious I found all the food, it was a little hard to eat under such intense scrutiny. I could practically hear the wheels turning in Whitney’s head.
Eventually, I set down my fork. “Everything was delicious. Thanks so much for inviting me to eat with you guys.”
“You’re always welcome here, Henry.” Daphne smiled at me, and then at her daughter. “But this was all Sylvia.”
“It was nothing.” Sylvia rose to her feet and started collecting plates. “I’ll get the dishes if you guys want to get started on the telescope.”
“Yes!” Keaton threw his napkin onto the table. “I’ll show him where it is.”
* * *
Although the directions that came with the telescope were terrible, I managed to get it set up in under an hour. Keaton was desperate to take it outside and test it out, and since it had stopped snowing, we piled on our winter stuff and brought it out onto the patio, which was blanketed in white.
My knowledge of astronomy was decent because my grandfather had always been interested, and he had taught my brothers and me about the major constellations when we were young. Later, I’d studied it a little at Cornell. I’d forgotten much of it, but Keaton didn’t seem to care—he was eager to hunt for anything I suggested might be visible tonight, and asked a ton of smart, curious questions about each star or planet I pointed out.
Sylvia joined us a couple minutes later.
“Is it working?” she asked, sliding the glass door shut behind her before shuffling through the snow in her unlaced boots.
“Yes!” Keaton shouted. “And Henry says I might be able to see an interstellar comet!”
“Wow.” She laughed, her breath escaping in little white puffs, and looked at me. “Is this true?”
“It’s true. Some guy discovered it in August and it’s supposed to be closest to Earth this month. They call it the Christmas Comet.”
“And how do you know this?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’m part science nerd, remember?”
“And he showed me where to find . . .” Keaton looked at me for guidance. “Pegasus?”
“Perseus,” I corrected.
“Perseus,” he repeated. “Come and look, Mom. I’ll tell you where it is.”
Sylvia bent forward and looked through the lens. “Okay, what am I looking for?”
“First, you find the stars that make the W,” he told her, repeating what I’d said. “Can you see them?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment.
“That’s . . .” Again Keaton looked at me.
“Cassiopeia,” I said.
“Cassiopeia,” he echoed, his breath thick and white in the frigid night air. “Now look below the left part of the zig-zag. Can you see a cluster of stars there?”
“I think so. Is that Perseus?”
“Yes. Henry was just telling me the story. Did you know that constellations have stories?”
“Yes, but I don’t know many of them.” Sylvia straightened up and let her son look through the telescope again. Shivering in the cold, she turned to me. “What’s the story of Perseus?”
I wanted so badly to put my arms around her and warm her up, but I stayed a respectable three feet away. “Well, I’m probably not remembering every detail exactly right, but Perseus was the grandson of a Greek king who’d been told his grandson was going to kill him. So to prevent a grandson from even being born, he locked his own daughter up in a tower.”
“Always the tower,” she said with a sigh.
“Don’t worry. Zeus fell in love with her and visited her in the form of, um”—I glanced at Keaton—“golden rain. Which falls into her lap and causes her to get pregnant.”
Sylvia laughed. “Go on.”
“So the king is really mad about the baby and locks them both in a trunk, then throws the trunk out to sea.”
Sylvia gave Keaton a swat on the behind. “Remember this when you think I’m being too harsh.”
I grinned. “Then Zeus rescues them and they end up on this island for years, where someone—and I can’t even remember who or why—tells teenage Perseus he has to go bring back Medusa’s head.”
“Is she the one with snakes for hair?” Keaton asked.
“That’s right. So no one actually thinks Perseus will be able to do it, but he does, and along the way he also falls in love with this beautiful girl named Andromeda. She was chained to a rock and left to die by her parents.”
“Sheesh, this story is making me feel infinitely better about my parenting skills.” Sylvia smiled at me. “Tell me there’s a happy ending.”
“There is. Perseus brings Andromeda home and they get married and have lots of children. Her constellation is next to his in the sky.”
“Awww, I like that.” Sylvia glanced up at the star-studded winter sky. “So he didn’t kill his grandfather?”
“Oh yeah, he did. But that was more of an accident.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll focus on the happily ever after part. But I’m freezing out here. Are you guys coming in?”
“Can I have a few more minutes?” Keaton begged. “I want to try to find the comet.”
“I’ll stay out here for a few more minutes with him,” I told her. “You can go in and warm up.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling at me. She glanced at her son. “I really appreciate this.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I watched her go back into the house, feeling anxious beneath my skin.
“So how many stars are actually visible?” Keaton asked.
I tried to remember. “To the naked eye, I think a few thousand. But with your telescope, maybe more like a hundred thousand.”
“Wow.” He moved the telescope slightly to the right. “And how many are there total in the sky?”
“In our galaxy? Oh, maybe a hundred billion or so.”
“A hundred billion in our galaxy alone?” Keaton’s voice was full of awe. “And then more in other galaxies beyond that?”
“Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it?”
I tilted my head and looked up at the sky, wondering which star was the right one to wish on, the one with the most luck, the most magic, the most power to deliver on its promise.
But if my chances of finding it were one in a hundred billion, what hope could I have that Sylvia might one day really be mine?
Fifteen
Sylvia
After leaving Keaton and Henry on the patio, I came in and made some hot chocolate—on the stove top, like my mom used to make it when we were kids, with milk and cocoa powder sweetened with Cloverleigh Farms maple syrup, a little vanilla, and bits of crushed chocolate bar stirred in.
April wandered in while I was putting it together and leaned back against the sink. “So,” she said, her expression amused.
“So?” I focused on stirring the cocoa into the hot milk in the pan.
“So is this what going slow looks like?” She made little air quotes with her fingers.
“Um . . .” I flashed her a guilty grin.
Her eyes lit up. “Spill the tea, sis.”
“Ah, well, we sort of, uh . . .” Heat rose to my face.
>
“Banged?”
“Shh.” I looked over my shoulder toward the family room, where my parents were sitting. “Yes.”
“I knew it!” she whispered fiercely.
“How did you know?”
“Well, first of all, it was kind of obvious just from looking at you guys tonight. The way you were touching him. The way he looks at you. Also, Chloe texted me a little bit ago and said . . .” She pulled her phone from her back pocket and read aloud. “‘What the fuck is going on between Sylvia and Henry?’” Grinning, she tucked her phone away again. “So it’s not like I’m reading minds.”
“Oh.” I whisked in the vanilla. “I thought maybe Frannie told you.”
April’s mouth fell open. “Frannie knows?”
“It sort of slipped out on Sunday when she was here. But she claimed she could tell something was up between us on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s what I said too! But then you told me the next day you weren’t going to let it go anywhere. You were going to stay away from him for a while.”
“Yeah, I was going to.” I turned off the heat beneath the pan. “But then somehow I didn’t.”
“When did this happen anyway?”
“Saturday night at his house when the kids slept at Frannie’s,” I said, whisking in the chopped-up chocolate bar. “And Sunday evening in the winery.”
“Oh my God!” April clapped both hands over her mouth. “Where in the winery?”
“His office.” Just the thought of it made my body ache for him again.
“Like on his desk?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “So was it good?”
“It was incredible.” I took seven mugs out of the cupboard. “You know how we were wondering last week about where to find a good guy who’s kind of dominant in the bedroom but sweet to you too?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I found one.”
“He handcuffed you?” she squeaked.
“Will you keep your voice down?” I glanced into the family room again to make sure my parents weren’t listening, and shook my head. “No handcuffs, he was just . . . surprisingly rough and demanding at times. But then he was gentle too. He was exactly what I needed.”
Through the window over the sink, I could see Henry and Keaton, and it warmed my heart and soul to see Henry so patiently pointing things out to my son, answering his questions, teaching him.
“Wow.” April leaned back against the sink again. “So now what? Are you guys a thing?”
“No. So don’t say anything,” I told her as I poured chocolate into the mugs and placed them on a tray. “We’re just friends for now.”
She snorted. “Now you really do sound like Meg.”
“I’m serious.” I added a can of whipped cream and a bowl of mini-marshmallows to the tray. “It’s too soon to be anything more. Neither of us is in a position to offer the other anything but some fun right now. We agree on that.”
“Well, you guys deserve some fun.” She sighed. “But it’s too bad you couldn’t have met each other at a different time in your lives. Maybe you could have made it work for real.”
“I can’t start wondering what if,” I told her, picking up the tray. “I’ve got enough regrets. The past is past, and I’ve got to concentrate on moving forward.”
April folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah. I hear that.”
I set the tray down again. “I’m sorry, April. We’re always talking about my issues. How are you feeling about . . . everything?”
“I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”
“The other night, you mentioned eighteen years was coming up.”
She nodded, and I briefly saw tears in her eyes before she looked away. “Yeah. It’s hitting me kind of hard. But the milestone birthdays always do. And the holidays.”
“I bet.”
“It’s kind of crazy that I was only eighteen when I had him.”
“You were very young.”
“I was. And in no way ready to parent a child.” She tugged at the hem of her hoodie. “But I’ve been thinking lately about . . . reaching out. Maybe meeting him.”
I was shocked. “Really?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I think I’m about ready. And the couple who adopted him always said that if and when I decided I’d like to meet him, they’d be okay with it as long as he was.”
“Wow.” I tried to wrap my brain around meeting a child I’d given birth to for the first time in eighteen years but couldn’t. “That’s . . . that’s a lot to think about.”
“I know, but in all honesty, I think I need some closure—some certainty that I did the right thing.”
I put a hand on her arm. “You did the right thing, April.”
Her lips tipped up, but it wasn’t exactly a happy smile. “In my head, I know you’re right, but my heart often wonders. I’ve struggled with it.”
“Have you ever talked about this with anyone?”
“Not until now. I never even told anyone else I was pregnant. Tyler knew, Mom knew, Grandma Russell knew—because I went and stayed with her the last three months—and you knew. That’s it. I think Mom probably told Dad, even though I begged her not to, but he’s never mentioned it to me.”
“Me neither.” I paused. “Have you considered getting a therapist?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Will you contact Tyler and tell him what you’re doing?”
April shook her head vehemently. “No. I haven’t spoken to him in years, and he was one hundred percent in favor of the adoption. He never even signed the birth certificate. I mean, he wasn’t a jerk about it,” she said quickly. “He was apologetic, and he offered to pay for anything I needed, but he didn’t want his name involved.”
I nodded. The father of April’s son had been a legend in our small town, a left-handed pitching phenom drafted to the major leagues right after graduation. “So you didn’t stay in touch? You guys were such good friends.”
“We were, but . . . I don’t know.” April’s shoulders rose. “The random one-night stand made things kind of awkward between us before we knew it resulted in a baby. Afterward, it was just plain weird. Neither of us knew what to say to the other.”
“Right.”
“And anyway, I’m still thinking about it. I haven’t made up my mind yet.” She pushed off the counter and put on a blank face. “Ready with the hot chocolate?”
“Yes. But I just want to say that I’m always here if you do want to talk more about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
I picked up the tray and carried it into the family room, April following behind me.
“Mmm, something smells good,” my mom said.
“Hot chocolate?” I offered, setting everything on the coffee table.
“Looks delicious.” My dad reached for a mug and settled back into his favorite recliner.
“I’ll have some too.” My mom set her paperback aside. “Good idea. Those boys are going to be chilled to the bone when they get in here.”
“I know.” I picked up a mug and let it warm both hands as I looked out the glass door onto the patio. I could just make out Henry pointing toward the sky and Keaton following the line of his arm.
“Where’s Whitney? Does she want hot chocolate?” April asked, sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch.
“I think she went up to her room,” I said. “I’ll go see.”
Upstairs, I knocked on Whitney’s bedroom door. “Whit? I made hot chocolate. Want to come down?”
“No, thanks.”
I frowned at the wood. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Well, what are you doing in there?” I tried to open the door but it was locked.
“Nothing.” A few seconds later, she opened the door. Her face was full of makeup, her expression dour. She looked like a very unhappy clown. “Just playing with the new palette.”
“Oh. Well, if you
want to come down and join us, feel free. Just wash your face first, please.”
“Is Mr. DeSantis still here?”
I paused. Was there something accusatory in her voice? Or was I imagining it? “Yes. He’s outside with Keaton showing him how to use the telescope. Want to come down and look through it?”
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. I’ll be up in a bit to say goodnight. Don’t get any makeup on the bedding please.”
“I won’t.” She shut the door with no further comment.
On my way back downstairs, I wondered if Whitney suspected something was going on with Henry or if I was just being paranoid. All we’d done was sit next to each other at the table. I decided I must have imagined the suspicious tone of her question—probably just my own mixed-up feelings about what Henry and I were doing.
When I got back downstairs, Henry and Keaton were just coming into the family room, their cheeks and noses red from the cold.
“Guess what, Mom?” Keaton asked excitedly. “Henry goes to a boxing gym and he said he’d take me there sometime!”
“That’s awesome, buddy.” I smiled at him.
“They have classes for kids,” Henry said, setting the telescope in a corner where it wouldn’t get knocked over. “They look like fun.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to box, but my dad said team sports were way better.” Keaton inhaled deeply. “I smell chocolate.”
I laughed. “It’s on the table. Help yourself.”
While Keaton grabbed a mug from the tray, I turned to Henry. “Can you stay for something hot to drink?”
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should get back.”
“Come on. You have to try some hot chocolate—I made it from scratch.” I brought him a mug and he took it from me, his hands closing around mine all too briefly.
“Okay. But I can’t stay long.”
He lowered himself onto the couch opposite April, and I sat in between them. Keaton took the other end of the couch my mother was on and babbled excitedly about all the things he’d seen in the sky. The entire time, Henry seemed stiff and uncomfortable, and he barely touched his hot chocolate. If someone spoke to him directly, he replied, but other than that, he was silent.
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