Bombshell (28 page)

Not that I knew what would happen with Jonathan. But we
had
shared Christmas Eve. And Christmas Eve was all about anticipation, right?

 

“It's a charm bracelet,” my mother said once I had unwrapped the exquisite package she had pulled out of her suitcase. My apartment floor was positively overflowing with the gifts she and my father had hauled back from Paris, which was surprising for my usually frugal mother.

We were sitting in my living room, and after sharing a meal I had ordered in for us, we had talked for hours. About Kristina. Her family in Brooklyn, whom I had opted to visit on my way home from the DiFrancos. Just for dessert. It was a quiet evening—just me, Katerina and Sasha, but I could tell they were glad I had decided to come. I think Katerina saw it as some holiday homage to her sister, and Sasha, once she got past her usual anger, even took some comfort, too. I realized then how keenly my half-sister was suffering, and understood that I had been just as unable to acknowledge her pain as I had been unable to acknowledge my own. I didn't know what it was to lose a mother in the way Sasha had, but I understood loss in a way I never really did before. Realized, too, that not only did I have something to offer Sasha, but she had a wisdom she might offer me. A faith that despite all the pain life could bring, it also brought hope. A hope I saw shining in her eyes when she opened up just enough to show me that far from merely being a surly teen, she was a talented artist who made jewelry for all her friends—and aspired to one day make it for the marketplace. She even shyly offered me a bracelet in return for the Roxy D samples I had brought her. But her reaction to my gift was nothing compared to the thrill in her eyes when I disclosed that I had not only had some part in the campaign Irina was fronting this spring, but that I had met the supermodel. Of course, Sasha
was a fan. Wasn't every woman under a certain age? And I think I might have even made Sasha
my
fan when I promised to introduce her to her idol. After all, Irina was turning twenty this January, and according to the invitation I had received, was having a hell of a celebration at one of the hottest new clubs in New York City. I guess every woman deserves a ball as she moves on to the next phase of her life. And since it was reportedly going to be a big bash, I was sure Irina wouldn't mind…or wouldn't notice…if I brought along an extra guest or, two….

“Do you like it?” my mother said now as I fingered the pretty little charms strung together on a thick gold chain. “The lady at the jewelry store told me charm bracelets were all the rage in Paris right now!”

I looked up at her, saw the mixture of hopefulness and worry in my mother's eyes, and realized, for the first time, that she was anxious over the gift. As if I wouldn't accept it. Or her…

“It's beautiful,” I said, reaching over to her to hug her tightly.

“See, I told you she would like it, Serena. All that worrying over nothing!” My father smiled at us from where he sat in a wingback chair across from us. Of course, whatever worries my father had about me were put to rest when I told him and my mother about my Christmas Eve with Jonathan. I got the feeling, from my father's hopeful expression, that he had been matchmaking all along.

My mother ignored his comment, touching the little charms one by one as if she still felt a need to explain her gift to me.

“This one here is a little artist's palette. Remember how you used to love to paint as a girl?”

I smiled, studying the pretty gold charm. “I remember.”

“And this is a little calendar. You see the date marked there?”

I looked more closely, expecting to see my birth date marked, as was typical of this type of charm. But the little gold tablet was a calendar for May. And the date marked with a little heart was the fifth. “I don't understand….”

“That's the day you came to us, sweetheart,” she said, beaming at me. Then she frowned at my father. “I guess that day has more meaning for us than it would for Grace. Maybe we should have gotten the birthday charm, like you suggested….” She looked at me again and sighed. “I guess it's just that that day in May—well, it was one of the happiest days of our lives….”

My eyes misted at her words, because even though she had told me the story of my homecoming at least a hundred times, it seemed like the first time I was hearing it.

“And this here is a ‘G' charm, of course, for Grace,” she continued. “You do know why we called you Grace, don't you?”

“After Grace Kelly,” I said, looking at my father for confirmation. It was he, after all, who had always called me Princess Grace when I was a child.

My mother waved her hand. “How could we know you would grow up to look like her? Only prettier,” she said with a wink. “No, no. We named you Grace because it means ‘gift from God.' And you were, after all, our miracle. You still are,” she continued, reaching out and hugging me again like she'd never let me go. “You know that, don't you,
Grace?” she whispered fiercely in my ear. “Please tell me you know that.”

“I do,” I said, relishing her embrace. “I really do.”

I knew for certain in that moment that my life was a gift.

And a perfectly beautiful one.

If I did say so myself.