Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
My heart swings heavy in my chest, as if gravity just got stronger and it’s taking all my energy just to stand upright.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Granny asks.
“Yes, just a bad headache. And I just thought, we need to get some boxes. It’s only a month before we move out. I need to start packing.” I stand as if I’m going to start immediately.
“Can’t you stay and tell me about your weekend?”
I glance at my watch. “I’ve totally lost track of time. But it was lovely.”
“You don’t look like you’ve just had a lovely weekend away. What is it? If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to assume the worst.”
I have the worst poker face.
She’s going to find out anyway.
“Granny, will you promise to keep a secret?”
“Of course, my darling. You know you can tell me anything. Are you pregnant? Headaches can be an early sign.”
If it were only that.
“I’m not pregnant, Granny. Vincent’s left. Gone to Arizona. He’s not coming back. It’s just a bit of a shock. That’s all.”
She sets down her mug. “What? Where’s he gone? Did you fall out?”
I shake my head. That would have been easier. If I hated him. If he’d hurt me.
“Then why?”
“Because that’s what he does. I’ve always known he would leave. It’s just I kept thinking it would be some time in the future. Not today.”
I shouldn’t have taken a day with him for granted. I knew he’d never stay. He’d even said it to me: wherever he lay his hat, that was his home. And whatever the reason, he’d put his hat back on his head and decided he was going to make his next home in Arizona—five thousand miles away from me.
“Every time I leave Crompton, something terrible happens,” I say. Maybe it would have been better if we’d just stayed right here and not gone to Norfolk. My voice is shaky, but at least I have a solution. I just need to stay here. Right here. Not change anything. I’d been happy before Norfolk. I’d had perspective about me and Vincent and about the changes happening to the estate.
“Darling, you said you had a wonderful time in Norfolk. Going to Norfolk didn’t cause Vincent to disappear. Just like you didn’t cause Grandpa’s death by going to Cambridge. But I’ve been telling you that for nearly ten years and I don’t think you’ve ever listened to me.
“But Grandpa worried about me.”
“We both did. But he was old and sick, my love. You leaving didn’t kill him.”
“But if I hadn’t left—”
“He was sick. You’re a very clever woman. You must know that you leaving didn’t kill him. And Vincent hasn’t flown to Arizona because you left the estate and went to Norfolk. That’s not how life works. You’ve created your own personal superstition and tricked yourself into believing it.”
Is that what I’ve done? Mixed up all these terrible life experiences and concocted a superstition to lend me a sense of control over uncontrollable events? It makes sense. And I guess I’ve always known it to some extent, but being at Crompton truly made me happy.
“That superstition doesn’t serve you,” Granny continued. “Crompton was a comforting, stalwart partner after your mum died. Life before then had been challenging for you and it’s totally understandable you needed a life raft in those circumstances. But you’re safe now. You reached dry land. The life raft is always going to be here, but you don’t need it. It’s time to explore. Let go. There’s so much to see and do out there. You have one life to live, my darling girl. You need to stretch out your arms and squeeze every ounce out of it.”
I take a shuddering breath. Granny is right. On some level, I’ve always known the truth she has so neatly articulated. Though Crompton will always feel safe to me, venturing farther afield doesn’t cause bad things to happen. I know this. I’ve known this. It’s time to start living like I believe it.
“Vincent leaving doesn’t have anything to do with me going to Norfolk.” It sounds so obvious when I say the words out loud, but they release something in me—something that’s been locked inside for a long time.
THIRTY-FOUR
Vincent
Ari-fucking-zona.
I stand in my hotel room, looking out at the view of the golf course and pool. The red rocks on the left are smattered with green, a stark contrast to the lush emerald golf course and teal-blue pool. The sun beats down on everything.
It’s fresh.
It’s new.
It’s beautiful.
It feels good to be on the road again. I’m more than ready for new sunsets, new views from my bedroom windows and new opportunities.
I’m due to meet Simon at the restaurant overlooking the golf course at twelve to discuss my investment in a retirement village.
I pick up the phone to room service. Usually my first drink in a new hotel room is a ginger beer, but today I want a change. “Can I get an iced tea?” I ask.