smelling the salt in the air, unable to believe what a storybook existence this is, unable to believe that this is now my storybook existence too.
“It’s so beautiful.” I turn to Brooks, my dad. I still have absolutely no idea what to call him. “The flowers!”
“Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. My former wife was the gardener, and now Kim, who cleans for us a couple of times a week, looks after the plants. I’m afraid I’d turn everything to dust. I never had much of a green thumb. I’m putting you in the guest cottage.” He gestures to the smaller house at the back. “Do you want to freshen up first, before coming in to meet Julia?”
I nod meekly, relieved that I can get a few minutes to myself to digest everything. Brooks goes in front of me, carrying my suitcase, which is embarrassingly heavy as I had no idea what to pack, so brought everything, just in case, and leads me to a tiny cottage, more roses, a white wooden chair on the little porch outside, and a bottle of champagne on the table.
“To welcome you!” He smiles. “We definitely have much to celebrate!” He opens the French doors to reveal a surprisingly large room, the ceilings vaulted into the roof, a pretty bed covered in a white quilt and piled with blue and white cushions at one end, a living room arrangement with a small kitchenette at the other.
“It’s perfect!” I say, walking over to the walls, to the beautiful seascapes there. “Are they yours?”
He nods. “Whatever I don’t sell gets repurposed, either here or given as gifts.”
“They’re beautiful!”
“Thank you. I’ll leave you alone now. When you’re ready, come up to the house!” And with a jaunty wave he lets himself out.
* * *
When I’m ready? I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. I circle the room, looking at everything, before sinking down on the sofa and hugging myself tightly, a huge smile on my face, not sure whether I’m on the brink of laughter or tears.
Perhaps a bit of both. I feel, suddenly, completely overwhelmed. And scared. All of this is unfamiliar, all of it new, and although Brooks couldn’t have been more kind, more welcoming, I am a fish out of water. I have never been anywhere so beautiful, but being here, at his home, makes it real, and suddenly I’m not sure how I fit in, whether I fit in.
I hoist my suitcase onto the bed and start putting things away. Everything I brought seems suddenly far too dressy. My holidays are in the Mediterranean, where we wear strappy colorful sundresses and platform sandals. Don’t think I didn’t notice how casual everyone here was, the dressiest women I saw in tunics and shorts, still with flip-flops on their feet.
I feel wrong. I want to go shopping, to try to blend in, buy shorts and T-shirts just like everyone else. I have always prided myself on my chameleonlike ability to blend in, but there’s nothing I hate more than getting it wrong, and as I pull one dress after another out, it is clear I got it wrong.
I do have one pair of denim capris, so I pull them on with my sneakers and a gauzy purple top. It will have to do. I wash my face, dust on some bronzer and lip gloss, shake out my hair, and it’s about the best I can do right now. I grab the bottle of champagne to take it up to the house, and take a deep breath. Time to meet the rest of the family.
* * *
Julia wipes her hands on her apron and walks over to me, a curious smile on her face. I don’t know whether to hug her; it feels completely different than meeting Brooks, not as natural, more reserved, and definitely more frightening. I want her to like me. I so want her to like me. I try to mirror her smile, aware that my heart is pounding.
“Hi.” She stands looking at me curiously as I extend my hand to shake hers. She takes it and grins, her eyes roaming all over my face. “Wow!” She starts to laugh. “This is so weird! You could be my twin!”
It’s true, she and I are almost identical. I’m a little taller, heavier, but our faces are so alike, it is disconcerting. Behind her I see a dark-haired man turn from the kitchen sink and walk over.
“Wow!” He lets out a whistle. “God, the