by Susan Wiggs
Speculating on what the secret plan for the show might be, he dreamed of Malibu, maybe filming a surf competition. Or perhaps there would be a crew of castaways on Fiji, mountaineers in Colorado. Or a rock group in Amsterdam. Yeah, that’d be awesome. Mickey Flick was known to work closely with some of the biggest names in the music business. His last hit had involved a world-class heavy metal star’s collaboration with a classical pianist, culminating in a triumphant performance in Carnegie Hall.
Zach couldn’t wait to see what was in store for him. And at the end of it all, he’d finally have the seed money to start living his dream.
The people in the café carried on, oblivious. Just for a second, Zach felt a twinge of frustration. He wanted to call somebody, tell somebody, share this amazing news. And the person he most wanted to share it with was the last one who wanted to hear.
Part Three
MUST-DO LIST (REVISED, AGAIN)
sublet apartment
return library books
repay student loans
realign priorities
really fall in love (no, seriously)
What we remember from childhood we remember forever—permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen.
—CYNTHIA OZICK, AMERICAN WRITER, B. 1928
Chapter Five
Sonnet awakened as the train from the city lurched into the station at Avalon. Just for a moment, she felt fuzzy and disoriented, her sleepy mind flipping through all her many homecomings. As a new, homesick college student, she’d arrived with a sense of relief, eager to be enfolded in the comfort of her mother’s arms. During her various internships overseas, she’d visited less often, but always with appreciation. Yet as time went on, the town where she’d been born and raised seemed smaller and smaller to her, with less and less to tie her to the pretty lakeside hamlet. While her world was expanding, Avalon remained the same.
She felt strange about this homecoming, for a lot of reasons. It made her seem like she was going backward into a world where she no longer fit or belonged.
Grabbing her bags from the luggage rack, she stepped down to the platform and looked around. Same little burg, with its picturesque square, the old brick buildings huddled shoulder-to-shoulder, their striped and scalloped awnings shadowing the shops and businesses she’d walked past every day as she was growing up.
She noticed a bit of commotion on another car as a group of people got off, lugging hard cases of equipment and rolls of cable on hand trucks. There were a couple of guys and women, dressed mostly in black, looking around as if they’d stepped off a spacecraft onto an alien planet. One of the guys wore a black baseball cap with the logo MFP, and the equipment boxes were marked Mickey Flick Productions.
Sonnet thought they might be a camera crew. Back when her mother served as the town mayor, she’d set up a volunteer film commission to attract business. A place like Avalon didn’t see much action, but every once in a while a crew came through to create footage of the quaint town, or of fall foliage or sometimes aerial views of the area. It was a place that seemed frozen in time, achingly pretty, useful for establishing a historic or generic small town setting. A few years back, there had been a public television documentary on the annual Christmas pageant that had created quite a stir.
The PBS camera crew hadn’t looked like this bunch, however. These people had that edgy East or West Coast look. They consulted smartphones and lit up cigarettes before moving en masse to a large panel van parked in the commuter lot.
Seeing a camera crew reminded her of Zach Alger. He was the last person she wanted to think about, but she couldn’t help herself. God, those kisses. Those hands. The things he’d whispered in her ear. Even now, she felt an unbidden spasm of desire at the mere thought of him. It was ridiculous, feeling turned on by a man she had no business thinking about.
Squaring her shoulders, she took out her new phone and sent a text to Max Bellamy, her stepbrother, who had offered to pick her up. In the parking lot, he texted back. Need help with bags? She indicated that she did not, and rolled her luggage toward Max’s slightly beat-up Subaru.
Max stood in his shirtsleeves, one hand in his jeans pocket, his hip cocked at a jaunty angle. He attended college in Hamilton, where he liked to say he majored in beer and girls. With his surfer-blond good looks, he took after his dad, Greg Bellamy, though his air of easy charm was something that belonged to Max alone. Sonnet liked him well enough, but she would never understand him. He came from a great family—he was a Bellamy, for heaven’s sake—yet he seemed to be in no hurry to find his life.
“Hey, you,” she said, giving him a hug. He’d topped six feet a few years ago, and he moved with easy grace as he loaded her bags in the back. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Sure. Your mom’s going to go nuts when she sees you.”
“She’s already nuts. Seriously, Max. Pregnant?” It felt weird just saying it aloud. Her mother—her over-forty mother—was pregnant. When Nina had first told her, Sonnet had been speechless with disbelief. Then she’d accused Nina of telling a bad joke. “I’m still in shock. How about you?”
Max rolled out of the parking lot and headed toward the Inn at Willow Lake, which Nina and Greg owned and operated. “It’s cool with me. I mean, yeah, it’s weird because we’re so much older than little Junior or Juniorette is going to be, but…” He shrugged. “Red Bull?” He offered her a sip of his drink.
“Uh, no, thanks.” She tried not to ingest things that had ingredients she couldn’t pronounce. She looked out at the scenery—the covered bridge over the Schulyer River, the hills draped in sunlit green. As they neared the inn, she glimpsed the lake in the distance, shining like a jewel. “Hey, I saw a camera crew get off the train. Know anything about that?”
“Some kind of top-secret production is going to be starting. That’s the word, anyway,” Max said, flashing his thousand-watt grin. “Maybe they’ll make me a star.”
“You wish.”
He turned into the gravel-paved lane leading to the Inn at Willow Lake. As always, it was lush and gorgeous, perfectly planted and maintained, a testament to Greg Bellamy’s skill as a landscape architect. “There’s some producer named C. Bomb staying at the inn,” Max said. “He’s like the head of the outfit or something.”
“C. Bomb?”
“That’s what he calls himself. Clyde Bombardier or something like that. Spends all day glued to his laptop, gabbing on his Bluetooth.”
“So, not your typical guest.” The inn was known as a place for romantic getaways. “And he’s not telling people what he’s up to?”
Max shrugged. “His business. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“And my mom? My pregnant mom?” Sonnet was still trying to get her mind around the concept. When she’d told Orlando, he’d merely wondered why Sonnet had to go haring off to Avalon simply because her mom was expecting. Orlando didn’t get it. It wasn’t every day a grown woman discovered her mother was going to have a baby.
“Her business,” Max said reasonably enough. “I’m sure the two of you will be up half the night discussing it.”
* * *
Nina was sound asleep. Sonnet tiptoed into the house, which had once been a caretaker’s cottage on the estate that had become the Inn at Willow Lake. She found her mother on a daybed in the living room, covered in an afghan, softly snoring. Quietly setting down her things, she paused to study Nina. Did she look different, or was that ju
st Sonnet’s imagination? She just looked like…Mom, with her pretty Italian features and thick black hair, which she’d grown long enough for a ponytail, her dark eyelashes shadowing cheeks that looked slightly gaunt. You’re pregnant, Sonnet thought. You’re supposed to be glowing.
“Mom,” she said softly.
Nina’s eyes fluttered open. Her mouth unfurled into a smile. “Hi, baby.” Her favorite pet name for Sonnet now took on new meaning. “Thanks for coming.”
Sonnet hurried over to the daybed and they hugged. Her mother smelled like Pond’s lotion, a warm scent that took Sonnet back to her girlhood. She shut her eyes, and in a swift sequence she remembered all the hugs they’d shared through the years. During her childhood, the two of them had been inseparable, making their way through life together. There were tough years, there were times Sonnet yearned for a father or for something that looked like a two-parent family, but ultimately, the two-alone dynamic brought them closer. They were more than just mother and daughter; they were best friends.
“It’s the middle of the day and you’re sleeping,” Sonnet said.
“The prerogative of pregnant ladies.”
It felt completely surreal to Sonnet. “So you weren’t kidding about being pregnant.”
Nina scooted up to a sitting position. “Not kidding. Not the sort of thing any woman kids about.”
There was a bottle of prenatal vitamins and a prescription bottle for something Sonnet didn’t recognize next to a glass of water on the end table. Reality started sinking in. Sonnet’s mother was pregnant. “Are you showing yet?”
Nina smoothed a hand down her midsection. “Not too much.”
Sonnet couldn’t help staring. “Not there, anyway. But wow, Mom. You’ve had a visit from the boob fairy. Your girls are looking good.”
Nina waved her hand and glanced away. “I’m not really focused on that.”
“Well then…congratulations. It’s really exciting, Mom. Just unexpected. You caught me off guard. The last thing I thought I’d hear from you is that you’re having a baby.”
Nina smiled. “You’ll get used to the idea. Greg and I are so happy.”
“That’s great.” Sonnet was surprised to feel the tiniest twinge of jealousy, followed by a cold wave of shame. Her mother and Greg were totally in love, they were having a baby together, and she was happy about it. Yet there was a small, selfish part of her that wished she’d had the childhood this baby was going to have—two doting parents, a storybook-pretty life in this cottage near the lake. It was a stark contrast to the drafty rentals she and Nina had lived in, with Nina working all the time, trying to make ends meet.
“How are you feeling?” Sonnet asked, shifting gears into good-daughter mode. “Besides tired, I mean.”
“I feel…I’ll be fine,” Nina said firmly. “Perfectly fine.”
“So is it a boy or girl?”
“We considered leaving that unanswered, but I just had to know. I’ve already had the amnio, and what we know so far is that the baby is healthy and growing on schedule. And it’s a boy.”
“A boy.” Sonnet felt a genuine smile unfurling on her lips. “I’m going to have a baby brother. That just seems so incredible.”
“Okay, I’m getting a little insulted by how incredible you think it is. For a teen mom, I didn’t do half bad, right? As an older mom, I’ll manage,” Nina said. “So, welcome home, my prodigal child,” she added. “How long can you stay?”
“Today, plus the weekend. I wish it could be longer, but there’s work.”
“And the fellowship. Oh my gosh, baby, I’m so thrilled that you got the fellowship. You’re amazing, do you know that?”
Sonnet hugged her mother again. “I’m feeling like a pretty big deal these days.”
“You should feel like a big deal every day. I’m ridiculously proud of you. This is a huge opportunity, isn’t it?”
“The biggest. I have a meeting next week to find out my assignment. Two years overseas…somewhere. I can’t wait to find out.”
A shadow flashed across Nina’s face. Maybe Sonnet imagined it. Then she guessed her mother’s thoughts. “Oh, God. I won’t be here when the baby comes. Mom—”
“Stop right there. You don’t need to be here for the birth. The baby won’t know the difference.”
“But you will. Mom, I could ask—”
“No,” Nina interrupted again. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime. You’ve been working toward this since the day you left home. No way are you going to pass it up.”
Sonnet felt her eyes misting up. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“I’ve always told you so.” Nina stood up and folded the afghan.
Sonnet studied her mother. “I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you fat. You look tiny, Mom. Are you eating okay?”
Nina fussed with the blanket, arranging it on the back of the chaise. “I’ve been having morning sickness. Come on. Let’s go find Greg. He promised to make his famous barbecued chicken tonight. You want to see if Zach can come over?”
Sonnet bit her lip. It was completely normal to invite Zach to dinner. Absolutely, completely normal. Through the years, he’d been like a family member. “Maybe another time,” she said.
“Am I hearing you right? You haven’t been home since Daisy’s wedding, and you’re not seeing Zach?”
“Uh, not tonight, okay?”
“Sure, suit yourself.” Nina winced a little as she started toward the door.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sonnet asked.
“I’m fine.” Nina squeezed her hand.
Yet as Sonnet followed her out of the room, she was struck by the strangest notion that something was afoot. She’d been away far too long.
Chapter Six
Zach paced the sidewalk in front of the bakery, trying to stay cool as he waited for his upcoming meeting with a producer who called himself C. Bomb. It was mystifying to Zach that the producer had come all the way to Avalon to meet with him, and to explain what the top-secret subject of the upcoming show was going to be.
Meanwhile, he had another client who’d asked to see him. He didn’t usually get nervous about meeting potential clients. Usually they were the nervous ones, jittery brides wanting him to turn their special day into a piece of beautiful cinema worthy of an Academy Award. And the funny thing was, sometimes he did. Sometimes he captured a moment, elevated it to a lasting moment. Other times, he was lucky to record a few decent sequences before the event unraveled thanks to drunken groomsmen, warring relatives, or tearful brides having a hissy fit.
Today’s client wasn’t a bride. She was a married woman. Who just happened to be the mother of Sonnet Romano. What Nina Romano Bellamy wanted with Zach was not likely to be a gauzy wedding video.
She showed up at the appointed time, a bit rushed and breathless. Sonnet’s mother was attractive in a no-nonsense way, with olive-toned skin, balanced features and brown eyes, dark hair. The similarities between her and Sonnet were subtle but Zach could see the resemblance in the way they carried themselves and a certain energy that emanated from within. Nina looked a little frayed around the edges this morning, but she was the kind of pretty that shone through regardless. Sonnet took after her in that way; Zach couldn’t help making the observation.
He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t known Nina. After his mom had left, he’d always been welcomed by her and the whole Romano clan, for that matter. There had always been room for one m
ore place at the table, or in front of the TV for Friday night movie-and-popcorn. Later, when Zach’s dad had been convicted, Nina had all but adopted him. Maybe that was why everything was so weird with Sonnet. After Nina had been so nice to him, he should have known better than to go banging her daughter in a boathouse.
“Thanks for meeting me, Zach.” Nina smiled, her kind expression only deepening his guilt.
“Anytime. Is everything okay?”
She headed for the bakery. “I’m going to grab something to drink, and then we can walk. It’s too nice a day to stay inside.”
“Sounds good.” He followed her inside and they got in line to order.
While they waited, at least five people said hello to her. Nina had served two terms as mayor of Avalon. She’d taken it on the chin when Zach’s father had defrauded the town, because for a while, it appeared the lost revenues were caused by the mayor’s mismanagement. Zach always appreciated that she didn’t hold him responsible for his father’s misdeeds.
“Sonnet’s here for the weekend,” said Nina. “Have you seen her yet?”
He kept a poker face. He had no idea what Sonnet had said to her mother about the wedding incident. He and Sonnet were…what? They were nothing anymore. They’d gone from friends to nothing in one night.
Damn it. He missed her.
He wondered what she’d said to her mother. That they’d had a falling-out? That they’d had a one-night stand, which made it impossible to go back to being friends, or…anything?
Before that night, he might have asked Nina how Sonnet was doing. Then again, he wouldn’t have to, because he’d know. Because they would have called or sent text messages or emailed the way they’d always done.
“Uh, no,” he said. Brilliant, dude. Just brilliant.