Summer at the Lullaby

Don't make decisions that aren't happy and practical

The road that led from the Lullaby to the Brasserie was pleasantly in the shade thanks to the lime trees that lined it placidly.The annoyance felt in the morning dissolved in their perfume and in a strange serenity after Nora's words. The steps were fast and having something to do helped Tess focus on the important things. The housekeeper knew her stuff.When she arrived at the restaurant she saw her florists waiting for her with a nice load of stems with ocher corollas and bright dark green leaves."Once again I'm a marvel, Miss Hackman, did you see?""Yes Annette they are perfect, now let's go arrange them in the vases, I was thinking of the tall stemmed crystal ones we used last June, the families are starting to arrive and they are less invasive on the tables".Tess watched the women's hands create refined but not affected compositions, exactly as she liked to think of the brasserie. A sudden horn scared her a lot "Hey girl!" Eve was in the car with her father who slowed down just enough to say goodbye: "See you later at my house, mum made a fantastic cake, tonight we have dinner with the neighbors and so she is stuffing us like a turkey in November" the father Eve blew another horn to underline her daughter's words and walked away giving Tess a big smile. They were so similar. He continued to watch the two zoom by in the sleek black convertible.Tess finished helping the florists, she checked that the menus were in order and well printed, she greeted the staff by stopping to chat with the room manager. She observed that the curtains that her mother had chosen almost ten years before her seemed to uselessly weigh down such an intimate and luminous space. She thought of talking about it with her father, knowing that she would not have found a hearing except by descending into her pain. "Don't make decisions that aren't happy and practical little girl," she reminded. So she went to the shop which was a handful of steps away, or so it seemed to her as she walked along them, selected some georgette fabric with some light embroidery here and there, asked for window curtains and made sure the seamstress was able to pick up the exact measurements.She looked pleased while she chose, she decided, she imagined. She knew what she wanted from her for the first time in so long. She wanted to bring the Lullaby, the Brasserie and her life out of its torpor, ready for the future that was soon to arrive.Satisfied, she resumed her journey home.At that moment it seemed strange to her to call a hotel home.Yet this was her home.The large dining room, the garden, the pier, the two wings of well-appointed bedrooms. Everything was home.When she reached the crossroads she stopped to look at the view.The bay was flooded with morning light, some sailboats were looking for the right wind, the Lullaby was ready to welcome a new summer.She glanced down the street to her right, the one that led to the Devon house.She wouldn't write to Will, she wouldn't tell him until he returned. But it was right to prepare her mother, forcing her to keep silent for a few more weeks, leaving her the time to hate her just enough to dissolve in liberating tears when her son returned.She would ask Eve to accompany her after they ate cake together, after all she couldn't deprive her of that moment and she would need a shoulder to quickly escape her need for her.Before her, however, she had to run to the man who needed her most, wake him up from her pain, bring him back to real life and not to the farce that repeated itself every year, every month and every day. Would the story of what happened with the chef on the stairs have been helpful? Probably yes.Was she supposed to break his heart by announcing the break off of the engagement? Of course if she then she had rushed to find and assemble each piece.Of the new curtains, however, she planned to say nothing until things were done."Too many emotions in a short time for him too" she found herself thinking starting to laugh like it hadn't happened for years.She arrived at the beach.Once again a seagull swooped down, just long enough to touch a wave and then climb back into the sky.She was free.