“Overall, she’s been a great kid. And we spend a lot of time together. Had to, because Gerard wasn’t always there. He worked so much.”
“Homeschooling made the difference, too, huh?” Bianca asked.
“It helped.”
Homeschooling had given Zoe a good, solid foundation. It also allowed them more time together. But when she decided that she wanted to attend a public high school, Remi wasn’t ready for it—not at all. She tried to talk her out of it, but Zoe was adamant that she wanted to spend her last two years in public school, be a normal kid. With that, Remi had to respect her wishes.
“Even after she went to public school, it worked out,” Bianca said.
“Yeah, it did. Turned out to be the best thing for her socially. She thrived in public school and excelled academically. She was the most popular girl at the freaking school—cheerleader, homecoming queen, varsity volleyball star. All of it.”
But Remi knew it was more about Zoe proving a point to herself, and to the girls at school, who believed she couldn’t do any of those things. Zoe never truly cared about pompoms or crowns. In fact, she hated wearing dresses and heels. She was most comfortable in denim and T-shirts.
“Mila excelled at the private school that Harry insisted upon. But I think she missed out by not being exposed to other things. She was a bit sheltered.”
“Mila’s a great kid. You both did well with her—youandHarry. Don’t beat yourself up. Just take advantage of this time with her. When she gets here, make the most of it.”
“I will.” Bianca gave Remi a half smile. “I really plan to.”
Remi turned up the volume on the stereo. Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” filled the car as she continued to drive the SUV across the Golden Gate Bridge. Bianca lifted her sunglasses from her eyes to get a better look at the stretch of valley, the rows of vegetation, and the mountainous views outside her window.
She glanced over at Remi. “You know we’re not listening to this ancient Grandma Lorraine music the whole two weeks, right? I mean, I love Grandma Lorraine like she’s my own, but …”
“What do you have against old school?” Remi laughed. It was great to laugh, to feel normal, something she hadn’t felt in weeks. And it was a genuine laugh. She could be herself with Bianca and be honest. They allowed each other to justbe. Don’t put on a face, just live in whatever you were feeling. That’s what she loved most about their friendship.
“That’s not really old school, Rem. That’s some Louisiana 1940s stuff.” Bianca laughed. “We’re listening to some rap after this.”
“Not rap!” Remi giggled, the sunshine hitting her face. She cracked the window slightly, letting Napa’s mild breeze drift in, lifting her curls, and carrying with it the scent of wildflowers.
“Yes, rap.” Bianca laughed and then relaxed in her seat, looking out the window. “It’s so beautiful up here. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t believe it took me so long to get here.”
“I can believe it. You’re a workaholic.”
“Someone has to pay the bills, you know? I’m on my own now.”
“Harry left you a nice little nest egg, and I’m sure you invested it well. And you should try to live more, now that you’ve won your fight with … you know …”
“You can say it, Remi. Now that I’ve won my fight with breast cancer …”
“Yes, that.”
Bianca’s breast cancer had been in remission for two years. Remi admired her friend, a survivor who had refused to let cancer steal her light. Bianca was tough. She had battled the disease and endured a painful divorce, all at the same time. Through it all, Remi had stood by her side—every hospital visit, every chemo treatment, every weary moment.
When Harry walked out, abandoning their marriage when she needed him most, Remi was there then too. She’d been her sounding board, her steady place, and the friend who gave her strength when she couldn’t muster any for herself.
Remi offered her a warm smile as the sunlight streamed through the windshield of the SUV, casting golden rays across the dashboard. It was a picture-perfect day—eighty-six degrees in California’s wine country. The air was rich.
“I know, I should take more time to enjoy life.”
Bianca fell quiet after that, her expression distant, reflective. Remi didn’t press her. Instead, she kept driving. The SUV rolled smoothly over the winding roads. Finally, they arrived at the vineyard. Remi slowed as they neared the estate, making a right onto the long, gravel entryway that led to their Napa Valley home—a sun-kissed, eighteenth-century gem overlooking a vineyard. The house stood proudly at the top of the hill, its mahogany-brick staircase welcoming them home.
“Is this it?” Bianca adjusted her body in the leather seat and leaned up. “It looks so stately.”
“This is it. And it looks that way on the outside, but really very warm and cozy on the inside. It’s what Gerard and I loved most about it. It has soul.”
“Well, let’s go check out this warm mansion.” Bianca giggled. “I expected it to be beautiful, but … just wow!”
No picture Remi had ever sent could’ve captured the fullness of the place—the charm, the serenity, the elegance. Towering trees flanked the winding path up to the estate, branches swaying gently in the breeze. The sunlight peeked through the leaves, casting light across the steps leading to the front door.