She burst into laughter, but it faded quickly. “Running into you felt a bit like a sign, Jack. I’m holding a party tomorrow. Not a party,” she rectified. “More of a celebration. It’s been ten years since we lost your mother, but those of us who remember her haven’t quite recovered. I thought it was about time we got together as a whole and celebrated the light she brought into our lives.” She clasped my hand. “I would be honored if you came.”
7
“Are you going to go?”
Begrudging curiosity made Evelyn drop the silent treatment she’d been giving me. That, and I ignored her silence entirely, chatting to her as I normally would and interpreting the spaces in the conversation however I wanted. When I mentioned Nadine’s celebration of my mother’s life, Evelyn couldn’t help but ask the question that must have lingered on the tip of her tongue.
“I don’t know,” I said. Secretly, I enjoyed the wave of relief that washed over me when Evelyn spoke again. Though I wouldn’t admit it, I hated when she was angry at me. “I feel like I should. I’m her only daughter.”
“Who’s going to be there?” Evelyn asked. “Where is it?”
“Nadine gave me an address in Windsor,” I answered. “It’s close to my mom’s old house.”
“The one you grew up in?”
“When I was on this side of the Atlantic Ocean,” I added. “I flew back and forth between my mom and my dad, remember?”
Evelyn fiddled with the strap on her brace. She’d been refusing to ask me for help. Regardless, I reached over and pulled the brace free for her.
“Thanks,” she grumbled reluctantly. “Your parents were so weird. Are you sure they weren’t having secret affairs or something? No other married couple I know lived on two different continents.”
“They were happy that way,” I said. “When they met, they were both chasing after dream careers. Dad’s was in New York. Mom’s was here in England. They fell in love anyway and decided to split the distance.”
“But was it worth it?”
I thought back on my childhood. It was complicated, sure, and I’d racked up more frequent-flier miles than a traveling businessman, but I wouldn’t change it if I could. During the school year, I stayed in New York with my father to attend a private elementary school. On holidays, we both would head to England to be with Mom. When I turned fourteen, I decided to switch it up. Boarding school in London, where I met Evelyn, came into play, and Mom and I visited Dad during holidays. It wasn’t simple, but our family was stronger for it.
“Yes,” I answered Evelyn. “I only have one regret.”
“Which is?”
“Mom was alone when she died. If my dad had been around—” I trailed off. Completing the sentence was pointless. I’d gone down this line of thought too many times, and it always took me to the same conclusion. “I can’t change what happened to my mother, and I can’t change my childhood. But I can appreciate the good things I had when I had them.”
“I guess I should admire your parents,” Evelyn said. “Mine weren’t strong enough to survive their marriage, and they lived in the same place.”
“I admire my parents too,” I said. “Or I used to anyway.”
Evelyn watched my face fall. “All right, fine,” she said. “I’ll come to the party with you. You don’t have to pout.”
“I wasn’t pouting—”
“So that lower lip quiver is authentic?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The best thing about having a friend like Evelyn, who might as well have been my sister, was that she supported me despite however she was feeling toward me. As we drove to Windsor, she gave most of her attention to the passing countryside, answering my questions with one word at a time. She wanted to make it known she hadn’t quite forgiven me for butting in at her workplace the day before.
The address Nadine had given me led us to a driveway hidden by high, thick shrubbery. As we pulled in and drove around the maze of bushes, a small house appeared set at the back of the property, right on the river. Childhood memories washed over me. I recognized the house not because I had been there before but because I had walked along the river’s path so often as a child that I knew the entire neighborhood. If we kept on, past the river’s bend to the left, we would end up right at my mother’s old house.
Several cars clogged the driveway, so I parked behind the last one. I’d purposely intended to be late. It was easier to arrive at parties like these when I could blend in with more people. Perhaps no one but Nadine would notice me.
“This is where you used to live?” Evelyn asked as she stepped out of the car and gazed up. The house was nice, and like most on the river, big enough to comfortably suit a family of five or six. It wasn’t garishly large, but it was much bigger than the city flats Evelyn was accustomed to. It had a terrace on the front and back, one to overlook the beautiful yard and the other to enjoy the riverside. “I’m surprised a professor can afford something like this.”
“A professor at Oxford,” I reminded her. “It’s different. They’re, well, paid—”
“Tons,” finished Evelyn. “Purely because of the school’s name. I get it. Nadine doesn’t commute this far, though, does she? It’s hours away.”
“I’m not sure it’s her house.” Needing comfort, I linked my arm through Evelyn’s. “It is a bit out of the way, though. I wonder who else is here.”
We needn’t have wondered much longer. Before we could ring the bell, Nadine came out on the terrace, a glass of champagne in one hand, and saw us walking up.
“Ladies!” she called. “Let yourselves in. I’ll be down in a minute.”
The back of the house was almost all glass. When I
