With Love from London(75)

“Frank,” I cried. “I belong here—with you and Val!”

He handed me another envelope.

“What is this?”

“A plane ticket to London. Your flight leaves at one o’clock.”

I shook my head, in shock. “Frank, what are you doing?”

“Go home. Take your time. We’ll figure this out.”

The doorbell sent chills up my spine. “The cab’s here,” he said, walking calmly to the door.

“Frank…”

He looked away. “Please, Eloise. Go. It’s what you’ve always wanted. We both know that.”

I wanted to scream, to plead with Frank—I wanted anything but to get in that cab, but it was no use. I walked numbly to the street where the driver leaned against the side of a yellow taxi. He extinguished a cigarette on the pavement, smashing it with his foot casually as if this were an everyday occurrence, the obliteration of a family.

Frank watched from the sidewalk as the driver loaded my bags into the trunk, then walked up the path to the house and disappeared inside.

Val couldn’t hear me, but I whispered my goodbyes. I told myself that I’d be back. Of course I will, and I prayed that she’d understand…someday. “I’ll write you every day, my darling, until I’m home again.”

My head was spinning when the driver started the engine and looked back at me. “Where to, miss?”

Frank had finally offered me freedom, but at what cost? Leaving the love of my life—Val—in California until her father and I sorted out our differences? What if we didn’t? What would that mean for her? That was the tragedy of it all, and perhaps even the theme of my life. I could have one thing, but not the other.

As the cab drove on aimlessly, I wiped away a tear, inhaling deeply. I’d left a piece of my heart in London all those years ago, and I’d be leaving another piece here in America. After that, I had little left. It was time to reclaim some part of me. Yes, I’d go as Frank insisted, but I would be back—for Val.

“Miss,” the driver asked again, this time more impatiently. “Where are you heading today?”

“Take me to the airport,” I finally said, steadying myself. “I’m…going home.”





The Next Day



“Morning,” I say to Millie and Liza cheerfully, before scooping Percy into my arms and planting a kiss on his fluffy head.

“Somebody’s in a good mood,” Liza says, looking up from an arrangement of roses she’s fussing over for a client who’d placed an order for flowers and Jane Austen for an ailing friend—a perfect pairing.

I smile, studying her bouquet. For an amateur, Liza’s actually quite a natural at floral design.

“Daniel came over last night.”

She reaches for another rose. “And?”

“And, it was…nice.”

“Aww, I’m happy for you. I really am, Val.” She scrunches her nose as she looks over her arrangement. “I won’t even tell you about the bloody awful date I had last night.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be,” Liza says with a shrug. “It’s sort of the story of my life.” She turns back to the vase of roses, then reaches for a sprig of eucalyptus. “True love may exist for other people but not for me.”

“If my mother were here, she’d tell you to perk up and stop being a pessimist. Cheer up, Charlie.”

Liza sighs.

“She believed in true love, even if she didn’t have it with my father. Even as a child, I could sense that her heart longed for someone—or something—whether real or imagined. It was as if she was…I don’t know…sort of lost in a daydream, if that makes any sense. I guess I always wondered if—”

“His name was Edward,” Millie says, clearing her throat from behind the counter.

Liza and I turn around, confused.

“The man your mother loved. She was head over heels for him from the very moment she set eyes on him.”

Even though I always knew that my parents’ marriage wasn’t quite the storybook variety, I suppose a part of me had hoped I was wrong, that maybe they did love each other, very much, despite their differences. As weird as it sounds, believing that I came from a union forged by love gave me some sort of comfort, security, even. But now I want the truth more than a fictional sense of comfort, so I listen with a lump in my throat, waiting for Millie to continue.

“They didn’t have much time together,” she says. “But they were the best days of Eloise’s life.”

“How…did they meet?”

“At the Royal Automobile Club, on Pall Mall in St. James’s.”

I feel time stop. I know this place, but why?

“Wait,” I say. “The Royal Automobile Club. That’s where Daniel is taking me for dinner…tonight!” I pause, considering the fact that I’m about to visit the place where my mother’s heart changed forever.

“He gave her his jacket,” Millie says, continuing her reverie with such detail, it was as if the memories had been taken from a page in her heart. “I’d never seen finer fabric.” She pauses. “He was devilishly handsome, and warm—one of those people that has a way of harnessing the attention of an entire room when they walk in.” She smiles to herself. “Your mother shared that trait.”