Love to Hate You (Hope Valley #9) - Jessica Prince Page 0,13

her walkway just as I pulled Ivy from the car.

For a woman in her early eighties, she was so full of life it practically radiated from her pores. I’d gotten my strawberry blonde hair from her, and she was obviously keeping up with regular salon visits to keep her once-natural color intact. Making my way toward her, my vision blurred as my eyes welled. The sense of relief and familiarity that washed over me was almost overwhelming.

“It’s so good to see you.” My voice radiated with emotion as I whispered into her ear, inhaling her familiar scent. She’d been using Chantilly dusting powder for as long as I could remember. I associated that fragrance with so many happy memories, and smelling it now made me smile.

“Oh, my precious girl.” She pulled back. Her fingers, slightly gnarled with age, pressed against my cheeks as she took my face in her hands. I looked down at her, seeing the many years she’d lived—enthusiastically sucking every drop of life from them—written on the soft, papery skin of her face beneath the impeccably applied makeup she wore every single day, no matter what. She’d taught me that beautiful undergarments made a woman feel sexy, even if no one was going to see them, and that there was never an excuse for a woman to go out in public without lipstick. She was of the mindset that it made you feel good to look good. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Stepping back, she looked to my daughter, her eyes lighting up as she threw her arms out at her sides. “Come give your Auntie Sylvia a hug, darlin’ girl.”

Ivy clung to my leg, her little arms like a vise as she looked up at me, her blue eyes wide and inquisitive. I nodded reassuringly and gave her a little squeeze. “It’s okay. You’ve met Aunt Sylvia before. You were just really little, so you don’t remember.” Leaning down, I whispered conspiratorially, “She’s my most favorite aunt in the whole wide world.”

That did it. Letting me go, she ran the distance between me and Sylvia and wrapped her arms as far around her middle as they’d go. “Hi, Auntie Siva! I’m Ivy!”

My great-aunt smiled down at her, running her fingers through my girl’s pale red curls. “I know, darlin’ girl. I actually planted some ivy near the back porch just for you the day you were born. Would you like to see it?”

Ivy gasped and shouted, “Yeah!” She latched onto one of Sylvia’s hands and looked back at me. “Come on, Mommy.”

“You two go explore. I’m gonna start unloading the car.”

Sylvia gave me a wink, knowing I needed Ivy occupied while I tried to get our stuff into the house. My girl would insist on helping, which would take twice as long. “Come on, precious. There’s a lot to explore. Better get started before we lose the sun.”

I watched as my aunt guided my daughter around the side of the house and out of sight. Then I went about unloading our lives from my four-door sedan.

I felt like I was running on empty as I made my way down the stairs to the kitchen in the back of the house. Sylvia was sitting at the small dinette table tucked into the bay window. The top was covered in a bright mosaic she’d made years ago, using broken stoneware and vases. The whole house was full of vibrant colors and crazy patterns—from the big, over-stuffed velvet couch in burnt orange, with its eclectic collection of throw pillows, to the squishy lounge chair in peacock blue, to the rugs and the paint on the walls. It looked like a rainbow had exploded, or the sixties had a massive acid trip and puked all over the place. I absolutely loved it. It was funky, just like her—and like how I used to be before I’d tamped that part of me down for Alex.

I’d spent years living in a monochromatic show house where everything from the dinnerware to the light fixtures matched. It hadn’t been me, not in the slightest. But I tried to appease myself by claiming that I’d been happy so I didn’t care that Alex had shot down every one of my design ideas.

I would never make that mistake again. From here on out, I was living my life on my terms. My house would look how I wanted it to look. I’d dress how I wanted to dress. I would be exactly who I wanted to be.