“It’s for you, Rem,” she said gently, carrying it over to her.
Remi, catching her breath from dancing, sat on the sofa. Her laughter faded, the light in her eyes dimming as she glanced down at the return address on the package: New Orleans Funeral and Cremation Service.
The breath left her body. Not in a gasp, but as a slow, sinkingexhale, like something had been pulled from her. She sank deeper into the cushions, her arms suddenly so heavy, her chest felt hollow.
“What is it, Mom?” Zoe’s voice broke the silence. She stepped forward, concerned. “Who’s it from?”
Remi didn’t answer right away. Her fingers hovered over the edge of the box, frozen in place. Her throat tightened. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
“Gerard,” she said. “It’s his ashes.”
The room went completely still.
Remi’s fingertips trailed across the label on the box like it might vanish. Her eyes filled, but she didn’t cry. Not yet. This was a different kind of grief. The final kind. The kind you could feel … deeply in your bones. She held the box in her lap and bowed her head. She held it like she was protecting him.
“I wasn’t ready for this,” she said, barely audible.
The music kept playing, as if unaware that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Zoe moved first, walked over and turned down the volume. The bass faded into a quiet hum. Remi sat frozen, the box resting on her lap like it might shatter if she moved suddenly. Her hands gripped the sides. She wasn’t ready to open it—not yet.
Bianca sat beside her, wrapped her arm around Remi’s shoulder. She whispered, “You don’t have to do anything right now.”
“I know,” Remi said softly. “It just makes it so final.”
Remi knew that Gerard was gone, but something inside of her still held out hope that he might walk through that door—as crazy as it may have seemed. The chances of this being summed up as a bad dream—well, receiving those ashes crushed all of that. It was real. His death was real. And the evidence was inside this box that she held in her hands.
Zoe knelt down in front of her mother, her eyes soft. “You don’t have to open it tonight, Mom. Let’s just sit for a bit.”
Remi looked down at the box again, then at Zoe. “Hewanted to be here. This was his happy place.” Her voice trembled. “I thought I was doing better, burying myself in bringingJoieto life.”
Mila, who had been standing nearby, crossed the room and leaned down to kiss the top of Remi’s head. “Youaredoing better, Aunt Remi,” she said softly.
They sat still for a while. Four women. Two generations of love, heartbreak, grief—and unspoken strength.
Remi decided not to open the box that night. Instead, she placed it on the mantel and told Zoe to turn the music back on. She played something slower this time—Sade’s “By Your Side.” And Remi thought of Gerard and smiled. It was their song.
Chapter Thirteen
Bianca
She kept her voice low and tiptoed downstairs ever so quietly. She slid the glass door open and stepped outside. The morning chill crept beneath her robe as she pulled it tighter.
“So, you’re saying that it’s back—the cancer?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“I’m so sorry, Bianca. I wish I had better news. I wanted to wait for all your results to come back before I called, but the biopsy results confirm that the cancer has returned and is in your lymph nodes now.” Dr. St. James paused for a moment, giving Bianca time to process the information. “I’d like to see you in my office—talk about some treatment planning. How long will you be gone?”
Her hands trembled as she struggled to hold the phone. Her breathing became erratic. Her chest tightened; a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. She almost whispered, “Another week, maybe two.”
She had promised Remi two weeks, but the third had already begun, and she’d quietly decided to stay a little longer. She hadn’t said it aloud, but the peace and calmness of Napa had grown on her.
“I’m going to have my nurse call you to schedule an appointment. Or would you like for me to refer you to someone there in Napa? I have a colleague in the area—a woman. She’s very good.”
“I don’t want to see anyone else,” Bianca said. “How bad is it?”
“Honestly, I think with a good game plan we can tackle it.”
Bianca stood. The weight of the world pressing into her chest. Her eyes stung, but no tears fell—yet. She looked out at the pool and then turned to look at the rows of vines. A breeze rustled the trees, then brushed against her cheeks.
“Are you still there?” Dr. St. James interrupted her jumbled thoughts.