Summer
“I’m really glad we could do this,” Vivienne says. “It feels like it was forever ago we last had lunch.”
A pair of oversized, vintage sunglasses sits on her nose, at odds with the wide smile beneath them. I nod and reach for one of the breadsticks. Olive’s next to the office has been our standard lunch spot for years.
“It does,” I agree. “I think it was back in May, actually.”
“Can’t have been that long ago, can it, Summer?” She shakes her head. “I suppose I’ve been in and out of the office a lot this summer.”
I nod and make my voice casual. “Ever since Acture Capital bought us, actually. Perhaps a bit earlier than that.”
My aunt reaches across the table and puts her hand on top of mine. Her thick gold rings rest against my thin ones, an interest I’d gotten from her. “I’m sorry about that, dear. It’s been a stressful time for Opate and I know you’ve been the one to step up. Thank you, Summer. Truly.”
Smiling, I squeeze her hand. “I love Opate. I’m only happy to see it succeed.”
“I’m glad. You’re the… well.” Vivienne’s smile turns chagrined. “You’re the daughter I would have wanted, you know, if I’d ever wanted children. If I’d ever had any.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
“My dear brother is good at many things, but he’s the best at raising kids. You’re a gem,” she finishes, taking her hand back.
I don’t know how to respond to that. Luckily, I don’t have to, because Vivienne isn’t done. She pushes her sunglasses up on her head. “Well, I can’t keep this to myself any longer. I’ve met someone.”
“You have?”
“Yes. In April. It’s been a whirlwind, Summer, all of it. His name is Jerome.”
“Jerome,” I repeat.
“Yes. He’s French. A widower. He didn’t understand Opate at all in the beginning, let me tell you. Apparently he thought I worked in the escort industry when we first spoke. I told him that was a compliment, at my age!” She laughs, an excited blush coloring the apples of her cheeks. “He’s retired. Retired himself, actually, and now mostly works in philanthropy. Oh, Summer, I don’t recognize myself!”
“You’re in love.”
“Yes,” she says, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “Yes, that’s it. It’s the first time I’ve felt like this after Patrick, to tell you the truth.”
I smile, my throat closing up. My aunt is the most stylish, hopeless romantic I know. That’s what makes her so good at her job. Like me, she genuinely believes in love.
But her own divorce had left scars.
“I’m so happy for you,” I say. “Is that why you’ve been out of the office, then?”
“Yes. Jerome keeps telling me to work less. To enjoy the time we have together. Me, working less. Can you picture it?”
“Yes,” I say. “I think I can, actually.”
“I’d be climbing the walls after a month. Or painting them, perhaps. Do you think I could learn how to paint?”
“I think you can do anything you want,” I say, and it’s the truth.
Vivienne gives me another broad smile. “The best niece ever,” she repeats. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Summer, just because I haven’t been in the office as often. You look happy.”
“Well,” I say. Grab another breadstick and flip it over in my hands, as if it can tell me the right thing to say. “I have met someone.”
“I knew it.”