Page 16 of Summer on Lilac Island

Eloise was not one to snooze her alarm. It was one of those things she didn’t believe in, along with Botox and government

welfare programs. But she snoozed it the next morning not once but three times before switching it off altogether.

Rising to confront the day was simply too much to bear after how she’d acted last night. So coquettish, so rash. She was mortified.

She stayed in bed long after she should have headed off to her bookkeeping job at the church. They wouldn’t miss her. It was

a small parish. She only needed to go in once or twice a week, though she kept a five-day schedule. She enjoyed the order

of a routine, the tidy delineation between weekends and weekdays. And it helped her feel justified in her salary, which, although

slim, was listed as full-time on the payroll, meaning it came with benefits.

Eloise missed Gus more than she had in a long time. She missed the way he would sprawl out on the bed, reach over, and cup

her toward him in the middle of the night. No scent of his cologne lingered from his most recent visit last summer, but the

indent of him remained. Even after everything, she still felt safest in his arms. She was too old to start over, too tired

for it.

Her bedroom door creaked open. “Why are you still asleep?” Georgiana called out.

Eloise answered from under her mound of pillows. “I’ll be up soon.”

Georgiana took a seat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Eloise lifted her head. She felt older first thing in the morning, with the puffiness and fresh creases of sleep, but younger,

too, just now, plagued by the green angst of an ingenue. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “Everything’s wrong. What was I thinking?”

“What do you mean?” Georgiana asked. “I thought you had a good time with Clyde.”

Eloise was talking to herself as much as her daughter. “Sharing my life stories with a complete stranger, staying out too

late, letting him kiss me good night...” She winced.

“But that’s what happens when a first date goes well,” Georgiana said.

“I’m a fool,” Eloise said. “A fiftysomething fool. How could you have let me do such a thing?”

“Me? You’re blaming this on me? You’re the adult here.”

“We’re both adults.” Eloise exhaled. “But you’re right, it’s my fault. I should’ve known better than to agree to your squirrely

deal.”

“You were the one originally conspiring. What happened? Did Clyde tell you he wasn’t interested?”

“If only.” Reaching for her cell phone next to the bed, Eloise handed it to Georgiana. “He texted .” Eloise felt strongly that phone calls, letters, and in-person communication were the only acceptable channels when it came

to relationships. And yet at 4:17 a.m., Clyde had texted to say he was having trouble sleeping because of what a good time

he’d had. He asked if he could take her out again soon.

“Blasphemy,” Georgiana said, reading the text. “How dare he follow up so promptly? Believe me, no guy ever communicates this

well. I’ve gotten my share of middle-of-the-night texts, but they’re always of the ‘U up?’ or ‘Yo, wanna hang?’ variety.”

Eloise felt ill, the way she often did when Georgiana elaborated on her dating life. It was one of the reasons Eloise had stopped (or at least cut back on) prying into her daughter’s dating life over the years. Georgiana hated telling and Eloise hated hearing.

“I’m not ready to date,” Eloise said. “I know that sounds ridiculous given how long it’s been since your father left. It’s

just...” She glanced at the bedside table, where another family photo was framed. The four of them on the beach at British

Landing, foliage spotted with autumn’s peak. “It’s never really felt like it’s over between us.”

Having lived at home, Rebecca knew about the episodic rekindling with Gus, but Eloise had tried to shield Georgiana from it.

Though the girls talked; of course they did.

“But it is over,” Georgiana said. “He’s never coming back, not for good.”

Eloise’s first impulse was to deny it. But her instincts couldn’t be trusted; she’d learned that much. “Probably not.”

“ Definitely not. And Clyde is here and he’s into you. Give him a chance.”

This was how Georgiana worked. Whenever Eloise opposed something, Georgiana was suddenly all for it. “I thought you didn’t

like him,” Eloise said.

“I don’t really know him. I just think it’s good to start opening yourself up.”

“Opening means closing.”

“Or maybe closing means opening,” Georgiana countered. “What’s the worst thing that could happen if you see him again?”

The answer, though near, took a while to emerge. “He could hurt me.”

Georgiana nodded. “But he doesn’t have the power to break your heart after a date or two. So long as you disentangle expectations

from imagination, as my therapist says.”

“You see a shrink?” Alarmed, Eloise sat up.

“She’s not technically licensed, if that makes you feel better,” Georgiana said with a smile Eloise did not return.

Eloise peered into her daughter’s face, looking for signs she’d missed. “Georgiana, why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?”

“I’m not struggling; it’s just part of general health maintenance. Everyone in California does it.”

Eloise was anything but reassured. “Have you been having bad thoughts?” Eloise pulled her daughter toward her. She cradled

the back of her neck, the fuzzy scruff of her hairline. No matter how old the girls got, they would still always be her babies,

her creations to protect. She had failed as a mother. She’d known it for a while, but this was the cold, hard proof. Was that

why Georgiana had come home? Not because of her monetary situation but her mental one?

“Stop it, Mother.” But Georgiana didn’t try to wiggle out of the hug. “I’m fine. I’m just trying to figure out where to go

next in life. That’s all.” The explanation echoed in the dell of the indefinite.

“Me too,” Eloise whispered. She felt something between the two of them that hadn’t been there for a very long time, if ever.

The threading of a fine-spun fiber, the treading on a footpath that looped back together after a fork.

Georgiana got to her feet. “I’ll make pancakes,” she told Eloise. “Join when you can.”

By the time Eloise appeared in the kitchen in a loose-fitting frock, she was feeling more like herself. She took over at the

griddle, wanting to do something nice for her daughter, however small. “You always undercook them,” Eloise said.

“The batter is the best part.”

“For those who like salmonella, perhaps.”

“What’s life without a little risk?” Georgiana said. “How about this? I’ll go on a second date with the doctor if you do with

Clyde.”

“You don’t have to go on a second date,” Eloise said. “I know you don’t like the doctor. I just didn’t want to see it.”

Her hopes of opposites attracting had dwindled down to nothing.

Georgiana liked guys with ponytails who went to music festivals and reeked of marijuana—or at least that’s how Eloise pictured them, from the vague descriptions and rare photos.

But Eloise couldn’t force Georgiana into anything.

She wanted her daughter to be happy and healthy. Nothing more, nothing less.

“James isn’t that bad,” Georgiana said. “We just didn’t have any sparks. Not like you and Clyde.”

Clyde. There he was, back in Eloise’s thoughts. “Sparks aren’t always good,” Eloise said. “They burn things down.”

“And they light things up.” Georgiana set the table, even folding the cloth napkins in the triangular way Eloise preferred.

It touched Eloise to see her daughter trying. “You’ll get back to him at least, won’t you?” Georgiana asked.

“Of course I will. I don’t subscribe to the ghouling antics of your generation.”

“Ghosting,” Georgiana corrected with a grin. “And let me know if you want help drafting the text. Breakup texts are my specialty.

It’s an art form, really.”

“I’ll be giving Mr. MacDougal a call,” Eloise said, heat rising at the thought. “Just not quite yet.”

Georgiana snitched pancake batter from the bowl, licking it from her finger. “No rush. It’s good to keep guys waiting a bit.

Play the game.” She winked.

“I’m not playing a game.” Eloise pressed the spatula down on the sizzling pancakes to ensure they cooked thoroughly. “I’m

just relearning how to date.”

“Yeah, well.” Georgiana gave a knowing shrug. “Those two things are one and the same, really.”