Josie’s soul crumpled.
Counterpoint, Josie wrote back. We do a nothing but nice guys season.
You know, Belinda wrote, I can never tell when you’re joking.
Josie ran through the girls’ headshots and résumés. Lots of social media influencers and marketers, which was always good for ratings and the long-term health of the series. She checked off three she liked. And then she picked an emergency-room nurse who looked like she might chew up and spit out the backward-hat-wearing dude-bros.
And then, because she could never help herself, a male chef. Because caregiving and competency were always a crowd favorite.
Yeah. That’s why she picked the male chefs.
Hey, she texted Belinda. Has anyone been talking about the pitch I sent Joe and Maryanne last week?
Yeah. Belinda wrote back.
Josie’s heart sputtered. And?
So far just water cooler talk. It’s a good idea.
“Right?” she said out loud. To her phone. But there was still a season of I Do/I Don’t to create and work was work.
Looking at the pictures and the backgrounds she wrote up a few loose story notes, ideas about where relationships could go. Yes, it was a reality TV show, and most of the story work happened in editing, but you couldn’t leave everything up to chance. You know what happened when you left everything up to chance? Geraldo Rivera and Al Capone’s tomb.
“Wow, look at the early bird,” Mom said, coming into the kitchen in her pajamas and one of Max’s old sweaters. Josie quickly shut her laptop and turned her phone over on the table between the two comfy chairs facing the view. It felt like she was hiding something, and maybe she was. Mom was not an I Do/I Don’t fan and Josie didn’t want to get her mother’s hopes up by telling her about the new idea. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” Josie lied with a smile. It was so quiet out here in the country, she missed the police sirens and the subway noise and the drunk who yelled on her corner at midnight every night.
The snow-blanketed countryside was so quiet it was loud.
“I’m so glad you’re home, honey,” Mom said and kissed the top of her head before walking over to the coffeepot.
Josie’s phone binged again. And then again.
“Who are you talking to so early in the morning?” Mom asked as she filled up her coffee cup and headed back over to the chairs.
“It’s just work,” Josie said.
“Just work?”
“Oh Mom, you can’t read into everything I say.” Josie laughed.
“Well, I’m just reflecting your energy back to you.”
“Of course you are, Mom,” Josie said with a grin. There were two cosy chairs set up facing the windows with their view of the Catskills and the main lodge, and Mom sat down in the other one.
“Wow, it really snowed last night,” Mom said. “We’re supposed to get more this week.”
“A white Christmas,” Josie said.
“Oh my gosh—remember that first Christmas we were here?” Mom asked. “We were so excited about that snow.”
“For, like, two seconds, until we realized our Texas winter coats were not going to cut it up here.”
“I think my toes were numb for months.”
They sipped their coffee and Mom sighed, closing her eyes and letting the sunlight warm her face.
Josie watched her and felt such tenderness for her mom. Such pride that she was this woman’s daughter. A survivor. Fierce and brave. “I’m so glad you found this place,” Josie said. “The Riverview.”
“What a long shot that was, huh?” Mom said with a laugh.
That, when Josie thought about it, was kind of how fate worked. It worked in small ways, sure, but every once in a while, you got this huge flyer. This absolute odds-breaker. And the Riverview and Max were that for Mom. And to some extent for herself—Josie knew that.
“Do you ever think about what would have happened if we didn’t end up here?” Josie asked.
“Only in nightmares,” Mom whispered. Josie’s birth father had been a dirty cop, and after getting full custody of Josie, had tried to kill Mom. It was like something out of a movie. And honestly, if it hadn’t happened to them, she wouldn’t have believed the story. Mom had escaped and taken Josie with her. They’d hopscotched all over the place before landing here. Where Mom didn’t explain to Josie what was going on, and also didn’t tell the Mitchells what might be following her.
It took Josie a while to forgive her mom for keeping the secret of the kind of man her father really was and why they were running. But she got it now. Mom had been trying to preserve something for Josie—innocence.
And maybe she just hadn’t known how to talk about it.
If there was one thing Josie understood as an adult, it was that it was hard to talk about the hard things. Easier to leave those things alone and hope that everyone could live their lives around the ache and the pain. Like a bruise you just didn’t poke, but also a bruise that never healed.