Chapter One
“I’m in love with aghost,” Julia declared.
Camilla, her best friend, or soul sister, as she preferred to be known, pulled a face.
Julia sighed. “Seriously, it’s like he didn’t even exist.”
Camilla opened her mouth to retort, but Julia cut her off. “No, no, none of that look, please, I’m not losing it. I just mean ... Ben didn’t exist. The true Ben—everything was a lie. His job, his friends, his family. He’d created some kind of facade that he thought I wanted and molded himself to it. Until it all unraveled.” She picked up her latte glass and swirled the liquid around.
The coffee shop was packed, as it always was. People in New York didn’t seem to stop and take a breath. Businesspeople milled around, impatiently waiting for their caffeine fix, while groups of friends chatted, some already moving to their next social obligation after only a half-hour catch up. Julia’s gaze traveled around the room. It made her anxious just to see it, and the sad fact of the matter was that she was no better than them. It was only when she was with Camilla that she felt like she could breathe. Best friends since they were in nappies, Camilla’s family had taken her in after her parents had died in the crash. Then they were roommates in college, and now, eight years later, they lived in apartments next to each other.
It was for this precise reason that Julia had decided they would meet in a public place and not one of their apartments. She needed witnesses around for what she was about to drop on Camilla. She was slightly concerned that Camilla might just wring her neck in the middle of Starbucks.
Julia took a sip of her hazelnut latte, letting the bitter and sweet coat her tongue in a concoction of flavors.
Camilla was looking at her expectantly over her own cup of coffee, those hazel eyes missing nothing. “Well? Spit it out, Jules, I don’t have all day. And while you have my deepest sympathies overBen,” she spat the name like it was a curse word, “my lunch hour is nearly up.”
Julia bit her lip. Swallowed. Swallowed again.
Here goes nothing. On the bright side, if she does wring my neck, at least I’ll get to see my parents again.
“Okay, so things with Ben, it was just sort of the final straw. I knew I needed a change ... something different. And I’ve found it.”
“Right...” Camilla dragged out the word. “So, you’ve met someone new?”
Julia chuckled. “Er, not quite.Something. Something new.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “A house. A manor house.”
Camilla was all stone-faced. “Come again?”
“I’ve bought a house at auction. It’s a bit of a teardown, needing some TLC, but I figure it’s a great project for me. And if all goes well, I think maybe I could see it being a home. My home.”
Camilla surveyed her, mulling this information over. She tossed her mass of blonde extensions over her shoulder. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay, I can live with this. We all know you’ve needed a project since selling your company. A house in New York, getting yourself on the property ladder. Okay,” she said, smiling brightly, “I’m on board.”
Julia conceded she had needed a project since selling her secondhand bookshop, Pre-Loved Stories. It was kind of Camilla to call it a company, she really wouldn’t have stretched it that far. But the new owners seemed to really care about the shop, and she couldn’t see herself running it forever. As much as she loved books, and discovering new (well, old) finds, she’d been feeling stifled. It was time to pass it over to new hands. And, huge plus, the new owners actually read books. Imagine that.
Julia felt her heart shatter slightly at Camilla’s hopeful look. “The house isn’t in New York,” she near whispered, as if that would make it any less of a crushing blow. “It’s in England, rural England, in a little village, and I’m leaving soon.”
Camilla’s lips pressed into a thin line. “When?” she demanded.
“Next week.”
Camilla’s screech echoed through the coffee shop. “Next week?”
****
After apologizing profuselyto the workers and patrons (because Camilla had continued to act,ahem, surprised,loudly, for the next forty-five minutes), Julia had managed to get her on her side. That is, they spent the evening crying and talking over copious amounts of red wine and cuddling up to watch old movies, like they did when they were little (minus the wine, emphasis on the chocolate).
When Camilla had left the next morning to return to her own apartment, she’d said in a small voice, “I’m not telling them, you know. That’s on you.”
Julia had nodded, feeling a sinking in the pit of her stomach. Tim and Susan. Her parents in all but name. She knew they’d be pleased for her, but she couldn’t take their tears right about now.
Julia padded to her bathroom, some stuff already packed up and ready to go. Her own eyes were red-rimmed, her pale skin splotchy. She brushed through her thick light pink hair, tugging it into submission.
Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get. Good job I’m not venturing out today. Everything can come to me.
At that thought, she ordered a latte and pastry and got to work organizing her life.
****
