The two weeks leading to the Fourth of July pass in a frenzy of activity. When I take Jazz for her follow-up appointment, Dr. Flowers is pleased with her progress and cautiously optimistic there will be no permanent damage. Jazz goes for ballet lessons on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and to her reading tutor on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. In her free time, I arrange playdates with her new friends from the day camp. Jack teaches me to parallel park, and when the time comes, I go for my driving test. I pass with flying colors. Being able to drive opens up a whole new world of opportunity for Jazz and me to explore. We visit Natural Bridge and feed the animals as we drive through the Virginia Safari Park. I go to the hospital every chance I get, but the nurses refuse to let me see Opal. When I question Brian about her restricted visitation, he says they are taking things one day at a time and promises I can see Opal soon. Katherine sends bouquets of fresh flowers to brighten her room, and I drop off magazines and books and plastic containers of Cecily’s edibles.
The inn begins to take shape. The decorators select paint colors and order miles of carpet, fabric, and wall coverings. Plumbers set fixtures in the guest bathrooms and the tile contractor lays marble and ceramic tile on walls, floors, and in the showers. Electricians update wiring, HVAC guys install all new heating and cooling systems, and large teams of sheet rockers put up drywall. Despite all this progress, Jack claims we’re running behind schedule. When he comes to the cottage for dinner at night, he’s visibly stressed, but he never complains.
Jack invites Jazz and me to go with him to a friend’s Fourth of July party. “There will be families with kids of all ages,” he says, his face bright with excitement. “Jazz will have a blast. Wait until you see this spread of land, Stella. Hands down, Jason has the best view overlooking Hope Springs. He hires professionals to shoot off fireworks from a vacant field he leases on the outskirts of town. The best fireworks you’ve ever seen.”
“Ha. Even better than New York?”
He laughs. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to New York on the Fourth of July.”
Jazz and I choose our outfits with care. I decide on a navy-and-white striped sundress, and for Jazz, we find a pair of blue shorts printed with white stars at Target. She wears them over her bathing suit with a white T-shirt and red ribbons in her braided pigtails. We accessorize our ensembles with red, white, and blue star necklaces ordered from Amazon.
We arrive at the party promptly at four, just as the games are about to begin. They have three-legged races, egg tosses, and a scavenger hunt. I meet too many of Jack’s friends to remember their names. They all beg for details of the renovations, and we’re more than happy to oblige. When the games end, the kids go swimming in the pool while the adults sip blueberry lemonade margaritas in lounge chairs nearby.
“Thanks for bringing me here, Jack. I’m having so much fun. Does this count as our first date?”
“No way,” he says, vehemently shaking his head. “Being surrounded by screaming kids is not what I had in mind for our first date.”
I cast him a sideways glance. “Oh really. What did you have in mind?”
“You and me alone together at my house. I’ll cook you a fabulous meal, and then I plan to seduce you. I’ve been a patient man, Stella. But that patience is running out.”
Jack and I rarely find time alone, but when we do, the flames burn hot.
“Ooh. An actual invitation to your house? I was beginning to think you live in a tent in the woods somewhere.”
“Ha ha. Aren’t you the funny one?” he says in a playful tone.
I stick my tongue out at him. “Seriously, though, Cecily volunteered to babysit. She even offered to spend the night if we want her to.”
“We definitely want her to.” He leans in close to me, planting little kisses on my neck. “I can hardly wait.”
I brush my lips against his cheek. “Me either.”
When a uniformed server rings a brass handbell, announcing dinner, kids make a mass exodus from the pool. Wrapping Jazz in a towel, we join the lines forming at the banquet tables. The food offerings include traditional cookout fare—hot dogs and hamburgers and grilled chicken breasts—but there are also some tasty salads with summer-fresh fruits and vegetables. We load up our plates and claim one of many picnic blankets spread out on the vast lawn.
Jazz is taking her first bite of her hot dog when a little girl about her age asks Jazz to join the small group of kids on a nearby blanket. She looks to me for permission and I say, “Of course, sweetheart. Go! Have fun!”
Taking her plate with her, Jazz runs off with the little girl, but she returns five minutes later, her golden eyes glistening with tears.
She snuggles up close to me, and I ask, “What’s wrong, Jazzy?”
“Do you know when my mommy’s coming home? Has the doctor fixed her yet?”
“No, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t know.” I lift Jazz onto my lap. “Are you missing her?”
“Sorta. But I like being with you more. It just that . . . well . . . I’m the only black kid here.”
Alarm bells sound in my head. Jazz doesn’t usually notice such things. “While that may be true, the rest of us are jealous your skin is prettier than ours.”
“You’re just saying that, Stella. Can we go home now? I don’t belong here.”
My eyes meet Jack’s over the top of her head. “Says who?”
“That boy over there.”
I follow her finger to a boy of about nine or ten with dark curly hair. He’s cutting up, making the other kids laugh by acting obnoxious.
“What does he know? Talking like a big shot makes him feel important, especially when he’s picking on kids who are different from him. Same thing used to happen to me all the time when I was a kid. Wanna know what I did?”
She nods her head. “What?”
“I ignored them. It drives mean kids crazy. And it makes them look like fools in front of their friends.”
She pushes off of me, so she can see my face. “Really?”
“Really. Wanna give it a shot? We’ll be right here if you need us.”
“I guess.” She butt-scoots to the edge of the blanket. With a quick swipe of the eyes and an uncertain glance back at us, she returns to her friends.
Jack and I watch as the scene at the neighboring blanket unfolds. When the mean kid starts to taunt Jazz again, she stares him down with chin high. After a while, the boy gives up and directs his attention on another poor kid.
Jack takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’re really good with her.”
“Bullies are all the same. I encountered my share of them when I was growing up. Kids thought I was a freak, being raised by lesbian mothers before same-sex couples were a thing.”
“I imagine that was difficult for you,” he says, his face pinched in concern.
“It was lonely at times, but I learned to stand up for myself.”
I stretch my legs out in front of me, my sandaled feet crossed. As the sun dips below the mountains, the sky fades from orange to black. Stars come out, twinkling in a cloudless sky, and a gentle breeze delivers the scent of roses from a nearby garden. I yearn to freeze this moment in time. While I’m curious to learn more about my family’s past, I fear that what I discover will ruin everything I’ve gained since coming to Hope Springs. I never thought I could be this happy. I’ve fallen head over heels for an incredible man and an awesome kid.
Uniformed servers light tiki torches, hand out sparklers, and cut a ginormous sheet cake decorated like the American flag. The crowd cheers when the first fireworks light up the sky with bursts of blues and reds and whites.
Jack fingers a lock of my hair. “You’re a million miles away. What’re you thinking?”
“About past Fourths of July.”
“And how did you typically spend them?”
“With my parents, watching fireworks from different venues around the city while celebrating my birthday.”
“Wait. What?” Jack sits up straight. “Are you saying today is your birthday?”
“Yep. I’m thirty years old today.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “You are full of surprises, Stella Boor. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I just did.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel obligated to get me a gift. Having the same birthday as our nation has its perks. The evening has been perfect.”
“Not quite.” Jack leaves the blanket and disappears into the dark, returning a minute later with a square piece of cake, a sparkler hissing in the middle. He drops to his knees, presenting the cake to me, and sings “Happy Birthday” loudly and embarrassingly off-key. The rest of the guests join in, and Jazz rushes over.
“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” she says, knocking me over as she crawls on top of me.
“I was hoping not to make it a big deal.” I cross my eyes at Jack. “But someone let the cat out of the bag.”
Snatching the sparkler, Jazz dances graceful ballet moves around our blanket while Jack and I share the cake.
I’m disappointed to see the evening come to an end. It’s past ten o’clock when we thank our hosts and load Jazz into Jack’s pickup truck. On the way back to town, she chatters on about the new friends she made. She’s keyed up from the excitement of the party. Getting her to bed will be a challenge.
At the inn, when we round the corner from the main building, I notice a black sedan parked behind Billy’s Jeep. “Are you expecting someone?” Jack asks.
I shake my head. “I have no idea who that could be. Especially at this hour.” But as we draw closer, I see a figure sitting on the bench on the front porch. I would recognize the elegant slope of her neck anywhere. “That’s my mother.”
Jack jerks his head toward me. “Which one?”
“Hannah. My birth mother. The one with all the answers.”
He parks in front of the cottage, and I slide out of the truck.
Hannah gets to her feet. She looks movie-star glamorous in white high-waisted jeans and a blue-and-white cropped top with puffy sleeves. She’s still wearing her brimmed hat even though the sun set hours ago.
“Darling, it’s so good to see you.” She holds out her arms to embrace me, but when I don’t move toward her, she lets them drop to her sides.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I came to wish you a happy birthday.”
I snort. “You could’ve texted or called.”
Jack goes to the porch to introduce himself while I help Jazz out of her car seat. When I set her on the ground, she darts up the steps to my mother. “I’m Jazz. Who are you?”
“I’m Hannah. Stella’s mother.” Mom leans over to get a good look at the child. “I understand you’ve been sick, Jazz. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”
“I’m all better,” Jazz says. “We went to a party tonight. They had tons of fireworks.”
“Sounds like fun,” Mom says.
I unlock the cottage and the four of us file inside.
Mom circles the room. “Lester Stokes, the caretaker back then, lived here when I was coming along.” She pauses in front of Billy’s framed collection of ticket stubs, poking a finger at the glass. “I went to that concert with him—Billy Joel in Philadelphia in 1984.” She points again and again. “And Bruce Springsteen in 1985 and ZZ Top in 1987.” She moves on to Led Zeppelin’s bomber jacket. “I remember when Billy bought this. He wanted to wear it, if you can believe that. I told him the point was to preserve it.”
This insider’s knowledge of my father’s life is what I’ve been desperate for since I arrived in Hope Springs. But, instead of being fascinated, I’m irritated. If only she’d told me about my father years ago, I could’ve heard all the stories from him.
“It’s late, Mom. I need to get Jazz to bed. Where are you staying?”
“Good question. I wasn’t aware the inn was under construction.” She sits down on the sofa, giving the cushion a firm pat. “This will do.”
The cottage is small enough with Jazz and me living here. I don’t need my mother sucking up oxygen. I’m glad I took the time to clean Naomi’s suite after she left. “You can stay in the carriage house.”
Jack rests a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t I help Jazz into her pajamas while you take your mom over there now?”
“That would be great. Thank you.” I turn to Jazz, wagging my finger at her. “Brush your teeth. I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
I open the front door, motioning my mother outside. With an exasperated sigh, she slowly gets to her feet. As she walks past me, I hold out my hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive over.”
She drops the keys in my hand. “When did you learn to drive?”
“I got my license last week.” On the way over to the carriage house, I ask, “How long are you planning to stay?”
“As long as it takes to sort out a few things.”
“You’ll have to fend for yourself. Between Jazz and the renovations, I don’t have time to entertain you.”
“Forgive me for intruding on your life, Stella. I finally worked up the nerve to come down here, and this is the thanks I get? Don’t you want to know about your father and me?”
I grip the steering wheel. “Why does everything have to be on your terms? You should’ve told me about Billy a long time ago. Of course I want to know about my father. But I’m too tired to face ghosts tonight. And I don’t want to spoil a perfectly good birthday.”
“I understand,” she says. “Can we go for brunch tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.”
At the carriage house, I remove two large suitcases from the trunk and drag them up the stairs to her suite. One is undoubtedly full of art supplies, which means she’s planning to stay indefinitely.
I unlock the door and hand her the key to her room. “I’ll lock the downstairs door behind me. We had to fire the old groundskeeper. And we’ve had some trouble with Bernard lurking around. Although we haven’t seen him in weeks, we still need to be careful.”
She shakes her head as though in disbelief. “Bernard was here when I was a kid. He gave me the creeps, even back then.”