“Happy birthday, Archer,” Jo whispers haltingly. “I hope you got everything you wanted.”
She darts around me and walks away — down the dock, up the lawn, into the house. I stand there like a man carved from stone, listening as her footsteps fade, staring out at the ocean. I don’t bother reaching up to brush away the tears that drop like rain onto my cheeks.
There’s no one around to see.
Before I finally go, I reach into my pocket and place the jewelry box at the end of the dock — like an offering left to the sea gods of olden times. I can’t bear to throw the necklace out. Better to let it be swept away by the wind or swallowed up by a rogue wave.
“You’re not nothing, Jo,” I whisper thickly as my fingers stroke the small velvet box one last time. “You’re the only thing.”
Chapter Nineteen
JOSEPHINE
Just as ithas for the past seventeen years of my life on this particular day… at 8:00AM on the dot, the song begins to play.
“Joesphine” byThe Wallflowers.
I burst out of bed when I hear the opening strains and run down the stairs in my pajamas, barely slowing my pace as I race across the first floor. Excitement churns inside my veins. I wonder what my parents have planned for me this year.
A picnic on the Hinckley out at Misery Island? Lunch at my favorite restaurant in Rockport, with a harbor view featuring the famous Motif #1? A drive down the coast, into the city, for dinner and a show?
Frankly, I don’t care what we do. I’m just eager for a full day with them.
A day not about work.
A day only about their daughter.
In light of recent events, I’ve never felt more in need of their love. Perhaps they can fill a sliver of the chasm Archer has opened up inside my chest.
Skidding to a stop in the entrance to the kitchen, my head swivels around in search of them. Except… I only see Flora and Miguel standing by the marble island, smiling at me as The Wallflowers whisper their final refrain.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” they sing together, their voices off-key. They’re each wearing a cheap paper party hat. “Happy birthday, dear Josephine. Happy birthday to you.”
“Thanks, guys…” My brows are arched. “But… where are my parents?”
Miguel and Flora glance at each other. “The thing is,mija—“
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Miguel scratches the back of his neck. “They left this morning.”
“Ah.”
Flora wrings her hands. “There was an urgent issue with VALENT.”
I try to smile, but can’t quite manage it. The excitement inside me had deflated like a week-old birthday balloon. “Urgent. Of course. It always is, when it comes to their company.”
Never to their daughter.
“They left you a note.” Flora gestures at the piece of paper sitting on the countertop. “I’m sure it explains everything better than we could.”
With a nod, I walk forward and snatch up the stationary. It’s a thick, creamy cardstock, embossed with the name BLAIR VALENTINE at the top. Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t use the company letterhead; this feels more like an internal memo from Management than a love note between mother and child.
My eyes scan the handwriting — an immaculate, sloping script, each letter crafted with utmost care. Almost like calligraphy. If Blair had been the kind of mother who’d left cute notes in my school lunchboxes, they’d surely have been the envy of the elementary cafeteria.
I was always fascinated by the kids whose mother’s tucked colorful post-its beside their sandwiches and thermoses, desperately curious about the messages scribbled there. Probably something trivial, I assured myself.
Have a great day, sweetie pie!