I thought about that for a moment. My mom? I’d never really thought of my mom as anything but a parent. It was probably because she’d died when I had just started discovering myself. From my perspective, my mom had always just been...a mother. Hearing about her life from before I was around was kind of interesting and kind of wonderful. She and Aunt Hannah had always shared stories and little jokes with me, but I’d never really talked with them about dating. Now, I found myself wanting to know more.
“It wasn’t Larissa’s fault,” I said carefully. “I mean, it was, in a way, but I could have pressed harder. I could have fought harder.”
“That’s a very mature thing to say,” Hannah pointed out.
“Tonight, Cooper told me that he only took her to the dance as a favor to Larissa’s brother. Apparently, he owed him.” I believed him. I wanted to know what Hannah thought. She always knew more about the people of Ashton than she let on.
“That’s true.”
“I thought they dated for years,” I admitted. “Larissa told everyone at school that she did.”
“That was why you were so unhappy your senior year?” Hannah asked. “You never told us exactly what the problem was. We just thought that you missed Cooper.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Larissa told everyone they were a couple. What did my mom think about that? Did she know?”
“She didn’t know what exactly had happened. I think she figured that if you wanted to talk to her, you would.”
“I hadn’t wanted to talk,” I admitted. It probably hurt my mom that I was so closed-off for so long. I think that I figured if I could shut my feelings off, I could start moving forward. That hadn’t worked out so well for me.
“She still loved you.”
“I know. I loved her, too.”
“You know, after your mom passed away, Cooper lost his mom, too. It was around the same time. He used to come by here and talk with me. Sometimes he’d come by the shop, too.”
“So he came back right after college?”
“Yeah. He came back and started working at the middle school, but when the job for the high school principal opened up...well, he was kind of a shoe-in.” She smiled and sipped her water. “Everyone has been very impressed with the way he’s managed to turn things around for the high school. He’s done an incredible job.”
“He was always very charming.”
“He was. So what happened tonight?”
I filled her in on everything. I wasn’t sure what had shifted inside of me, but I suddenly felt it necessary to do a complete information dump. I told her about Jake, and I told her about my job. I told her everything, and then I told her a little bit more. Maybe it wasn’t fair to share so much information with her, but crying and getting it all out there felt good.
It felt really good.
And on some level, it almost felt like talking to my mom. I felt like if Hannah could accept me for everything that happened, than it was almost like my mom would accept me, too. I had screwed up so many times.
“That’s quite a story,” my aunt finally said. Once I was done crying and blabbering and pouring everything out, she hugged me tightly. “Quite a story indeed.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re judging me,” I pointed out.
“On the contrary,” she said. “I think you’re very brave. Sharing stuff like this isn’t easy.”
“Does it get easier?”
“As you get older?”
“Yeah.”
“Not really,” she said. “Even your uncle and I have a hard time sharing our feelings sometimes.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“Only if you think getting older means you change as a person. Sometimes we do, but in some ways, we’re always the same. Our bodies grow up, but our hearts? Our hearts stay the same.”
“Aunt Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think it’s too late for me?”
That was the question that was really bothering me. Was it too late? Had it been too long? Had I worked too hard on the wrong things? Had I screwed up in ways that would permanently prevent me from being able to move forward?
I needed to know. I needed to know whether I was a lost cause. I’d wasted so many years working at a job that didn’t bring me joy. I’d spent time with a man who, when push came to shove, hadn’t been there for me. That was all in the past, but I was in my 30s now. I was old enough to have things like a house and a kid and a husband. I didn’t, though. Was it too late?
Hannah looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Too late?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Like, am I too old to have a second chance?”
Hannah started laughing. I bristled, slightly offended. Out of all of the possible reactions I’d expected, her laughing out loud at my pain wasn’t one of them.
“Are you serious right now?” She said, shaking her head. Then she laughed some more.
“I mean, I was serious.”
She reached for her water and took a sip. She held up a hand, gesturing for me to wait as she had her drink. Then she sat it back down.
“Cordelia, you’re 31.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said dryly. That was kind of the whole point.
“You’re not even halfway through your life, assuming you live to be 80.”
“So you don’t think it’s too late.”
“Not at all.”
Relief washed over me. I couldn’t quite explain why it was so important for me that she, out of everyone else in the world, accept me. That wasn’t quite true, though. I still saw my mom in her. It wasn’t fair to put that kind of pressure on Hannah. She wasn’t my mom.
“Honey, when I was your age, I felt just as lost and alone as you do now.”
“You did?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Besides, did you know that Ray and I didn’t get married until I was 38?”
“What?” I asked, shaking my head. “How is that possible? That means you got married when I was a kid. I don’t remember a wedding.”
“We never had one,” she shrugged. “Ray and I had been together a long time, but we hadn’t gotten married. We didn’t really want to make a big fuss about it. One day, we just went to the courthouse and did it.”
“Did my mom know?”
“Not until everything was over,” Hannah smiled. “She was pissed.”
“I can imagine. Mom liked to be involved in everything anyone did.”
“She was a wonderful sister, and she did her best to be a good mom. I’m just telling you this because life happens on a different schedule for each of us, honey. Your mom got married at 19. She had you right around the time she turned 30, and she was so damn happy about that. She and your dad had some great, wonderful years together. Then he was stolen from her. Then she was stolen from us. The world can be a cruel place, love.”
“It can be.”
“But it can also be beautiful.”
“Aunt Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you open Savored?”
It was something I’d wanted to know for a long time. I had my suspicions. I thought she had chosen to open it as a way to mourn the loss of her sister, but I’d never asked her. Hannah and my mom had been 50 years old when Mom died. It was young to lose a sister, but people died younger. My dad had been younger, after all. I wondered how old Coop’s mom was when he lost her, but I didn’t want to ask. Somehow, it seemed wrong to ask my aunt about that when I could just ask him.