not literally.”
Millie giggled. “Yeah, and he didn’t really look like a cloud, but that was what he always said.”
It was an extraordinary mix. Austen was there, as was Trollope, and Dickens, and Stephen King, and S. J. Perelman. Dorothy Parker squeezed up next to Joan Didion, and Chinua Achebe made room for John Grisham. Lots of mysteries, and so-called popular fiction, and nonfiction on topics ranging from mountaineering to working at Denny’s. Many she had read; others she hadn’t. She thought of her own shelves and what the titles might tell someone about her, realizing that she now knew more about her late father than she might ever have known, even if she’d met him.
Millie was watching her. “He loved books, like we do.”
Nina nodded.
“You would have liked him.”
Nina ran her fingers along the spines of her father’s books, pausing at a well-worn copy of The Human Comedy, by Saroyan.
She smiled. “Well, I like his books, which is essentially the same thing.”
Millie hugged her, suddenly, and Nina hugged her back.
“I miss my dad all the time,” said the little girl, her voice muffled in Nina’s sweater. “But I’m glad I got to find you.”
“Me too,” said Nina. “Very glad.”
Later, after lunch, Millie wandered off to work on some project involving a tree, a plastic rabbit, and a dollhouse chandelier, and Nina found herself alone with Eliza. She swallowed and asked the question she’d been dying to ask.
“Did you know about me? Before, I mean?” She pushed her hair behind her ears, nervously.
Eliza looked surprised and a little sad. “No, I didn’t. If I had, we would have met years ago.” She drank some water and moved the glass around on the tabletop, making lines of half circles like the tracks of a snake across sand. “It was a shock, because I thought William told me everything.”
Nina looked at her. “Everyone describes him so differently.” She paused, unsure. “He was one guy, but there’s no consensus about what he was like. For Peter’s mom, he was a blowhard who drank too much; for Millie, he was the kindest man in the world who made endless time for her.”
Eliza shrugged. “People change. There’s forty years between the William that Peter’s mom knew and the William that Millie knew. Parents get stuck in the amber of childhood, right? Whenever my parents visit, I feel myself becoming a cranky fourteen-year-old. I saw William through the lens of being his wife; I look at Millie only as her mother . . . You see what I mean?”
“Sure. So I’ll never see my dad properly, only through the filter of other people’s opinions.”
“Or maybe it’ll average out and you’ll be the only one who sees the real him.”
Nina laughed. “Maybe there is no real thing for anyone. Maybe all of us change depending on where we are and who we’re with.”
“And that’s why you like to be alone.” Eliza looked at her and smiled.
“How do you mean?”
“Because you prefer who you are when you’re alone.”
Nina shrugged. “It takes a lot of energy to be with other people. It’s easier to be myself when there’s no one else there.”
“Some people take energy; some people give energy . . . Occasionally, you get lucky and find someone whose energy balances your own and brings you into neutral.” She paused. “My God, I’ve been in Malibu too long. I said that completely without irony.”
Nina laughed. “It was really convincing. I think I even heard a tiny temple bell ringing somewhere . . .”
Eliza made a face at herself. “Your dad used to say being with me was as good as being alone.” Eliza laughed. “I think he meant it as a compliment.” The two women looked at each other. “I think we’re overthinking this,” said Eliza. “More wine?”
Twenty-five
In which the will is read, and is surprising.
The following Monday, it was finally time for William Reynolds’s will to be read. Nina pushed open the heavy glass doors of Sarkassian’s office and saw that the same beautiful receptionist was behind the desk. The woman looked up and smiled.
“Good morning, Miss Hill. The rest of the family is here already. I’ll show you to the conference room.” She didn’t mention the ‘well played, madam’ from the last time, and it was, of course, possible she didn’t even remember it. Nina remembered it, and often thought about it late at night, but let’s assume the best, shall we?
“They’re here?”
The woman nodded, gesturing to Nina to fall in alongside her. “The meeting began at