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But in the end, Grandma Estelle ruled. “You have to do what you think is best,” she said softly. “Your life and your career are all yours, not ours. We cannot fully understand it.”
Rachelle grimaced. Although she’d come to her family searching for answers, she knew Estelle was right. She couldn’t burrow up in the warmth of them much longer. Too much time would pass. And she might find herself regretting what she’d missed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rachelle’s going-away party was held on the first weekend of June. Like the hostess she was, Grandma Estelle insisted on throwing it—inviting all of the Colemans and about one hundred of Nantucket’s finest, all of whom ached with curiosity about Estelle’s prestigious chef granddaughter. They’d seen her on television, briefly. But apparently, she was meant for so much more.
Rachelle was off to do big things, she hoped. She bubbled with expectation every time she woke up in the morning and hardly slept at night. It felt as though the universe was working in her favor, everything pointing her in the correct direction. She was going to make this work.
Feeling nervous and overdressed, Rachelle floated through Estelle’s party with a glass of white wine, chatting with old friends, her sister, her mother, and the other Colemans. Aria shrieked and begged her to invite her to Rome. “I want to eat pasta until I explode,” she joked.
“I’ll be in over my head with work,” Rachelle confessed. “Diana is already there, setting everything up, and she says we have the next four weeks’ schedule already booked. People know and love Diana March. And they want to eat her food.”
“They’ll know and love you, too, one day,” Aria said, nudging her with her elbow. “You’re on the right path.”
After Aria went off to find her boyfriend, Rachelle made a beeline for Darcy, who chatted and laughed with one of the bartenders.
“This is really something,” Darcy teased.
“Grandma went all out.”
Rachelle draped her head on Darcy’s shoulder. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. “Why do I feel like everything in my life is about to change?”
Darcy sighed. “Because it is, Little Sis.”
“I didn’t mean for that.”
Darcy swept her fingers through Rachelle’s hair. “You did. And that’s okay.”
Rachelle pulled her head back and looked her sister in the eye, remembering the remarkable past year they’d had—the bottles of wine they’d drunk, the cookie dough they’d devoured, the music they’d sung along to. It was a year she would look back on, teary-eyed, filled with reverie. And it was a year that would end, regardless. Darcy was headed toward her own future. She’d fallen in love. Rachelle could see it echoing behind her eyes. She would probably move in with Steven, either this year or the next. She would get engaged, then married, then pregnant. She would have the sort of life of almost everyone’s dreams.
Why didn’t Rachelle want what her sister wanted? Why couldn’t they be the same in every regard?
“Come visit me?” Rachelle breathed.
“I heard you telling Aria you’ll be too busy.” Darcy’s eyes sparkled with good humor.
“You’re different,” Rachelle said. “I want you to follow me all over the world. Bring Steven if you have to.”
Darcy cackled. “If I have to,” she repeated.
“I hate that you’re in love,” Rachelle admitted.
“And I hate that you’re going away,” Darcy agreed. “But we’re doing what we’re meant to.”
Rachelle wrapped her arms around her sister as her heart pounded horribly in her ears. It felt like a ticking timer, counting her down to the end of her time in Nantucket—and toward “real” adulthood. She’d been in a liminal space.
Steven appeared beside them when their hug broke as though he’d been called. He smiled and waved goofily. He looked frightened, as though he wasn’t sure whether Rachelle liked him.
“Steven, hey,” Rachelle greeted him gently, watching as Darcy practically melted with love for him. “Thanks for coming to my party.”
Rachelle hugged her sister’s boyfriend delicately, then stepped back so that Steven and Darcy could greet one another more passionately with a tight hug and a cheek kiss. Darcy spent more and more nights at his place. That summer would be their summer of love.
Maybe Rachelle would have her own summer of love in Rome.
Diana had explained that she’d fallen in love with Ryan in Rome. It had subsequently changed her life. At times, it had been splendorous and dreamy. At others, it had been dark and aimless and horrifying.
Rachelle wanted to be brave enough to meet and conquer every obstacle. She wanted to live every possibility.
