by Jane Porter
“I couldn’t imagine anything more enjoyable.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Eleven work for you?”
“Perfect.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
• • •
Brunch is good. Dad is delighted to see Craig and after the meal Craig goes with me to visit with Ruth, who is sure I’m her granddaughter and Craig is my husband.
I let Ruth hug me and hold my hand. It makes her happy, and I think it would make Edie happy, too.
Then Craig needs to go, as there’s a private event at the winery this afternoon and he’s promised to be on hand, since Chad is spending the weekend with his in-laws.
Monday morning I pack and go for a last run. I travel my favorite route down Poppy Lane, cutting down the dirt road, running past the farm with the horses and up the hill.
I don’t cry as I run. I crest the hill and stand there, taking in the view.
It’s beautiful and pastoral and calm.
I’m peaceful.
Content. Or at least, far more content.
I’ve been lonely this summer in Scottsdale, but I’m not lonely when I visit Napa. I feel as if I’ve got my own little community here. Friends. Family. One day maybe I could live here, too.
I jog down the hill, and stop to talk to the horses who come to the fence to see me. The white horse tosses his head, flicks his tail, and whinnies. I stroke his nose and then continue jogging along the path, dirt clouding around my ankles with every step.
The heat brings out the smell of the oak trees and tall, dry grass. Back on Poppy Lane I slow to a walk, my hands on my hips. I breathe in deep, great gulps of air. How far I’ve come in the past few months. The worst of the guilt and anguish is gone. I still think of Andrew, and feel sadness and regret, but most of all, I feel love.
I did love him. Dearly. And I will always love him. Just as I love Mom. And Edie.
I reach the first farmhouse, the one with the picket fence. The roses bloom, but today they’re not the star. They’re just part of a summer garden that’s rioting with color.
Dahlias, zinnias, and lilies. Pinks and corals, reds, blues, crimson, purple. A sunny yellow dahlia with spidery blossoms peeks through the burgundy and orange dahlias and I smile at it. So bright, so insistent.
Beautiful.
I don’t even realize I’ve said the word out loud until a straw hat rises from behind the picket fence and a woman smiles at me. “Dahlias are such show-offs, aren’t they?” she says.
I can suddenly hear Edie’s voice in my head.
Dahlias are such show-offs.
I nod, and smile, fighting tears. Good tears. Happy tears.
“I love your garden,” I tell the woman.
“Thank you.” She draws off a glove and stretches her hand across the fence. “I’m Lulu London. And you’re the woman living at 33 Poppy Lane?”
I start to answer that it’s my dad’s house and I just stay there when I visit him, but for some reason I can’t say it. Instead I nod, and shake her hand. “I’m Alison McAdams.”
“You’re Dr. McAdams’ daughter, the dentist.”
“Yes.”
Lulu smiles. “So nice to meet you after all this time, and I’m so glad you’re living here now. Your father’s so much happier when you’re around.”
“You know Dad?”
“I’m George’s daughter. He’s at Napa Estates, too, and is a friend of your father’s.”
We chat for another moment and then say good-bye. And as I walk the rest of the way home, I keep seeing Lulu’s smile beneath her straw hat.
I see the dahlias.
I hear Edie’s voice. They’re such show-offs, aren’t they?
And suddenly I know I want to live here. I’m ready to move here. I’m ready to call Napa home.
There is no reason I can’t look for a dental practice up here. There has to be something, somewhere, even if part-time.
I wouldn’t mind part-time, because then I could still work a couple days a week at Bloom.
Or I could just spend my free time with Dad, watching golf with him on the TV and learning to play a really mean game of bridge.
Dad would be happy.
Maybe Craig would even take some bridge lessons with me. It’d be fun to spend more time with him. Get to know him slowly, properly.
Maybe even have a real date now and then, or another dinner date where we’d sit outside in his garden beneath the strings of lights, and drink wine and talk quietly while Bruiser snores at our feet. I really like Bruiser.
And Craig.
It could work.
And even if it doesn’t, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. In fact, I’m okay right now. Maybe even better than okay.
I smile, slowly, realizing it’s working out already. I’m good.
Life is good.
READERS GUIDE
It’s You
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
What do you think brought Ali and Diana together into a fast friendship?
Why is Ali so insistent on her dad moving in with her despite the fact that they can barely talk to each other?
When the novel begins, Ali and Andrew’s family are still deep in grief over Andrew’s suicide. Do you think the suicide of a loved one is something someone can ever move beyond?
At first, Ali does not realize that becoming a dentist in Andrew’s father’s practice may not have been Andrew’s wish. Why does it take so long for her to reach this conclusion?
Halfway through the novel, the reader is introduced to Edie’s backstory, which adds a new time, place, and even narrative style to It’s You. How did this inform your reading experience?
What helps Ali realize she needs to forgive Andrew?
Berlin plays an important role as a turning point in Ali’s emotional journey. What city would you pick for a similar soul-searching mission?
Did you see any significance in Ali’s losing the diary in Berlin? How did that moment alter her course afterwards?
Edie’s journals allowed Ali to experience some of what Edie went through, and also allowed Edie to relive her past. Do you keep a journal, and would you share it with someone else?
How does Ali’s relationship with her father evolve throughout the novel? By the novel’s end, do you like where they stand?
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