Sophie organized an afternoon at Mohonk Mountain House with Max and Daisy. Some of her fondest memories of being with them revolved around trips they’d taken over the years, when she’d shown them new places and introduced them to new experiences. She liked to remember that they had once been a happy family. She wanted to believe they could be happy together again. She wanted the two of them alone together, because she had some things to discuss.
She also had a surprise for them. Tariq was in New York on court business, and had arranged to meet them at the historic preserve. Sophie had been working hard at making a new life for herself, but part of her missed her other life desperately—missed Tariq, most of all.
The resort had been built by the Smiley family in the 1860s, and, to this day, still belonged to their heirs. While studying international law, Sophie had been an occasional guest at the resort. It was America’s ultimate castle, with the grandest of salons and guest rooms, stables and a maze, an ice rink, formal gardens, a golf course, miles of trails through the Mohonk Preserve, and heart-stirring vistas through every window. Perched high atop the granite bluffs that towered over Lake Mohonk, it was a combination of Disney’s Magic Kingdom, Mad Ludwig’s castle and a vintage postcard, glittering with snow. She knew her children would have the same awed reaction to the place that she’d had.
As they surveyed the towering cluster of cut stones and spires, she watched their faces light with wonder. Daisy was grown, and Max nearly there, as well, but that Christmas-morning look reminded her that they would always be her children. She regarded them both, trying to see past Daisy’s fragile beauty, past Max’s studied nonchalance. Regrets washed over her in a wave. She wished she could turn back time, be there for them when they needed her, pay closer attention this time around. But regrets were a slow poison. She could only go forward. She focused on Charlie snuggled in his carrier, fast asleep from the drive. The chance to watch him grow up was such a gift.
“Mohonk means ‘the lake in the sky,’” Sophie said. “Currier and Ives did a series of prints of this place. I’ve been dying to show you around.”
In the vast library, amid soaring bookcases accessed by wheeled ladders, she showed them portraits of presidents and dignitaries who had stayed here. “The founders were two brothers,” she explained. “Albert and Alfred Smiley. They were Quakers, dedicated to world justice and peace. About a hundred years ago, the Permanent Court of Arbitration was created right here, maybe even in this room.”
Daisy regarded her suspiciously. “And we should care about this because….”
“Because the PCA is now headquartered in The Hague,” Sophie said. “I thought you’d be interested to know I was offered a position as an adjunct to that court.” She looked around the enormous library, and imagined she could practically feel the old collections breathing with wisdom. “I turned it down, and the next day, I came back here to you two and Charlie.”
“Do you wish you’d taken the job?” Max asked, visibly stiffening as though bracing himself for a blow.
“No, I don’t. In fact, I’m incredibly glad I’m here now.” She paused. “I’m going to be looking for my own place in Avalon.”
There. She’d said it. Declared that she was no longer a visitor, but a full-time resident. A full-time mom. She was committed to this new life, to them.
“What kind of place?” asked Max.
She wasn’t sure what he was asking. “I’m going to buy a home,” she said.
“Where?”
“In Avalon.”
“At the lake?”
“I don’t know. I have an appointment with a real estate agent next week. Why, do you have a preference?”
“Yeah, I prefer where you are now.”
“It’s really nice there, Mom,” Daisy said. She went to the window, aimed her camera at the snowy scenery outside. “This is amazing.”
“What about Opal? She stays at Noah’s when you’re not home. Where will she go if you move?” Max asked.
“Soon she’ll be big enough to stay home by herself,” Sophie told him. Truth be told, Sophie would miss living near Noah, too, but this was about her family. “If I get a place in town, you won’t need to ride the school bus to come see me,” she pointed out.
“I don’t mind the bus.”
This was new. Initially, Max had declared that he hated the bus. Maybe he’d made some friends on the route. “It’ll be fine, Max,” she reassured him. “Promise. Okay?”
“Okay.” He went to study a ship in a bottle.
Sophie took a deep breath. The news about finding a house was the easy part. She spent several nervous moments working up to the topic. “I wanted to ask you something about your hockey game tomorrow.”
“What about it?” Max asked.
“I’m bringing a friend to watch the game with me.” She’d thought about it throughout the previous night and all day, and she’d come to the conclusion that Noah deserved public status. He’d never been less than wonderful to her, and she was through trying to hide their relationship. It was silly, juvenile and pointless.
Max kept his attention on the ship in a bottle, but Daisy lowered her camera and turned toward her mother. Sophie was nervous about explaining Noah to her kids. She told herself not to be silly, that she’d kept company with royalty, scoundrels, great men and criminals in conjunction with her job. She’d never had trouble before, yet the moment her heart was at stake, she choked. “Would that be okay, Max?”
“Depends. Who’re you bringing?”
She glanced at Daisy, who looked intrigued. “Noah Shepherd. Do you mind?”
He shrugged. “Fine with me. He’s told me before he likes hockey.”
“Moron,” Daisy said. “He likes Mom.”
Finally, Max straightened up. “So is he, like, your boyfriend or something?”
Or something. That was the standard term, though Sophie didn’t have a word for what Noah was to her. But she couldn’t deny he was important, and Max and Daisy were entitled to know it.
“I suppose you could say he’s my, er, boyfriend.” She stumbled over the word. It felt wrong, like trying on her daughter’s jeans.
Neither of her children spoke. “Well?” she prodded when she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Does that sound all right?”
“How do they get the ship in the bottle?” Max asked.
“The real question,” Daisy said, “is what’s the point of putting it there?”
“The point of a ship in the bottle,” said a smooth, English voice, “is that there is no point.” Tariq walked into the room, even more handsome and urbane than Sophie remembered.
With a cry of delight, she ran and threw her arms around him. “There you are,” she said. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“I’d never go back on a promise to you,” he said.
“I can’t believe you’re here. Max and Daisy, you remember Tariq.” Glowing with pride, she showed him Charlie, sweetly sleeping in his carrier. By any measure, he was the most beautiful of babies, with velvety pale skin and a bow-shaped mouth, a swirl of auburn hair.
Tariq was properly impressed. “Oh, well done,” he said, beaming indulgently. “Well done indeed. Brilliant, in fact.” Then he straightened up and faced Daisy and Max. “I miss your mother. I’m a selfish bastard and I wish we were still working together, but seeing her with you two and the little one, I understand. And I’ve brought you something,” he said to Sophie. “I wanted to give it to you with your children present.” He opened his briefcase and took out a flat, hinged box. “This was awarded to your mother the night of Epiphany,” he said.
Cold tension gripped her. She’d never shared the details of that night with her children. “Tariq—”
“Mom, that’s awesome,” Max said, admiring the engraved medal on its multicolored ribbon.
With studied solemnity, Tariq placed the medal around her neck. This was just a tiny glimpse of her old life, but seeing her children’s expressions now made Sophie glow with pride. Daisy insisted on taking pictures.
Sophie caught his eye and mouthed a thank-you. It was a moment she knew she would close into her heart, keeping it there forever.
The baby awoke, and while Daisy tended to him and Max went to explore the snowy gardens, Tariq ordered drinks. “It’s glorious here,” he said. “And you seem happy, Petal. I’m glad to see that. I wasn’t sure you would be.”
“I wasn’t, either,” she admitted. “I do miss you, Tariq. I can’t say I want that life again, but I do miss the work.”
“Come for a visit,” he suggested. “Better yet, visit Umoja. I’m going there myself in a month.”
She fingered the medal hanging from its colored ribbon. “That’s tempting, but I’m needed here. It feels strange, saying that, but I am.”