Family For Beginners

Her dad was looking at her. She licked her lips. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Sure it was going to be a disaster for her. She wanted to run to her dad and hug him. She wanted to tell him everything, all the awful stuff she was hiding, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d never felt so alone in her life.

All she could do was hope Flora didn’t get too comfortable. And she could probabl

y help with that part.

“The guest room is already made up,” she said politely, “because I changed the sheets after we last had guests.”

Maybe, while Flora was eating lunch, she’d put a few additional touches to the room to remind her this wasn’t home. More photos of her mother wouldn’t hurt, just so that no one forgot what was really going on here.

Flora’s eyes turned shiny. “You’re all so generous.”

“You’re welcome,” Molly said kindly. “And now can we have lunch? I’m very hungry.”

Izzy thought about the soufflé, collapsed and sad on the kitchen table. She felt exactly like that soufflé. To think she’d been worried about today. This was so much worse.

Flora wasn’t just joining them for lunch. She was moving in.

7

Flora

“This is where you’ll be staying.” Izzy flung open a door and Flora hovered on the threshold of the room, feeling a little sick and shaky. In the time it had taken to load Flora’s things into bags and battle the traffic back to Brooklyn, the afternoon had slowly drained away. On the drive Izzy had assured her that a ruined lunch didn’t matter one bit, in a tone so cheerful that it was clear it mattered a great deal. Judging from the glint in Izzy’s eye, she didn’t just think Flora had ruined her lunch—she thought she’d ruined her life.

If Jack hadn’t been so caring and Molly completely adorable, she would have decided right away that this was a bad idea. Molly’s offer to lend her toys had almost made her bawl.

Aware that Izzy was watching her, she stepped into the room.

Light flooded through the windows. After a stressful and emotional day, a feeling of calm swept over her. The kaleidoscope of anxiety stopped turning in her head. The room was decorated in neutral shades of gray and cream. Flora had an urge to add a few touches of color; cushions in vibrant jewel colors to the bed, wild meadow flowers in a vase. But she wasn’t complaining.

She was used to dark and damp, and this was sunny and spacious with glorious views over the pretty garden. Cherry trees clustered together with bridal beauty, and the explosion of creamy pink blossom brought back such vivid memories of her mother that she almost doubled over. Most of her memories had faded, blurred by the passage of time, but one remained in her head with startling clarity. They’d visited the Botanic Garden in Brooklyn, near Prospect Park. Her mother had made a picnic and they’d sat on the grass in the sunshine, admiring the pastel perfection of the blossom. Later, her mother had painted the scene and Flora had hung it on her wall. It was the first thing she’d rescued when the water had started pouring into her apartment.

The view from this room would be beautiful all year round, but she guessed it would never be more beautiful than it was right now. She wanted to collapse onto that wide comfortable bed, wrap herself in the soft cream throw and just admire the colors through the window. She wanted to switch off the part of her brain that was worrying she was never going to persuade Izzy to trust her. A large rug covered the wide oak planks. There was an armchair by one of the windows, and next to it a small table stacked with books. At the end of the room was a fireplace, which gave the room a cozy feel even though it wasn’t lit.

If she could have chosen her perfect house it probably would have been this one, although she would have decorated it differently of course. It nestled comfortably among the neighboring buildings, sure of its place. Belonging.

She glanced at Izzy, and encountered a frozen look of despair in the few seconds before she masked it.

She should have gone to Julia’s and shared a bed with Kaitlin.

“It’s kind of you to do this for me,” she said, and Izzy’s smile was stiff and frozen.

“You’re welcome.”

Flora almost wished Izzy would yell and cry and tell she didn’t want her here. At least then she’d know what she was dealing with.

They’d arrived with Flora’s bag of damp belongings and Izzy had insisted on being the one to take Flora upstairs while Jack and Molly unloaded the pathetic dregs of Flora’s life from the car to the house. I’ll show Flora round and help her feel at home.

Flora had a feeling she was being tested. “It’s a beautiful room, Izzy.” It was beautiful, if a little clinical for her tastes. She preferred a room to feel lived in, and to be filled with individual touches. This room was like staying in a very upmarket hotel.

“My mother designed it. She was very stylish.”

“I can see that.” The implication was that Flora wasn’t stylish, but she didn’t blame Izzy for thinking that given the state of her apartment.

She imagined Becca standing in this room, her dancer’s body perfectly poised and balanced as she made decisions. We’ll keep the color scheme neutral and add touches of luxury with drapes and cushions.

She would have stood in front of that full-length mirror and flung open windows to let in blossom-scented air. She would have stroked her well-behaved dark hair over her shoulder and laughed a throaty laugh, utterly at home in these sumptuous surroundings and sure of Jack’s love.

Flora had never been sure of anyone’s love except her mother’s, and she could barely even remember how that felt now. The yearning was so powerful her insides felt hollowed out. It wasn’t only that she missed her mother, she missed the possibilities and the promise of the life they might have shared, the laughs, the trips, the confidences. She’d missed out on so many special moments.