Out in the lobby, she stopped and looked for an escape. Klein’s receptionist stood, her forehead creased with worry as Cross’s angry voice boomed from the conference room.
“Ms. Rosberg? Are you okay?” the receptionist asked.
Instead of answering, Emerson glanced one more time at the wooden sign with the Thoreau quote, then walked up to the receptionist and embraced her in a tight hug. She let her go and headed for the door, leaving the stunned woman standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Emerson didn’t run, but she might as well have. She ripped open the car door, threw her briefcase and coat inside, and flopped into the driver’s seat where she then pounded on the steering wheel with open palms as she cried. Glancing to her left, she saw Cross’s driver looking at her, completely perplexed, and she knew she needed to leave before he decided to come see if something was wrong. She wiped her running nose with her hand, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot with more speed than was safe.
She couldn’t stop crying.
It shouldn’t have surprised her when she turned into the parking lot of Cassie’s store, but it did. She jammed the gearshift into park and sat in the car, looking out the window at the back of The Sports Outfitter. Tears covered her cheeks and her nose continued to run, but she didn’t stop to think. She got out of the car and marched across the lot into the back entrance.
Cassie’s mom was at the cash register. When she looked up, her eyes widened.
“Is Cassie up there?” Emerson asked before the woman could speak and pointed at the stairs.
“Yes, but…”
Emerson headed for the stairs.
“She’s with customers,” Cassie’s mom called out.
Emerson kept walking, determination in her steps even as she stumbled, tears still flowing. She clamped her hand over her mouth once again, hoping to keep the sobs from being too loud and attracting the attention of shoppers.
The customers didn’t stop the emotion overflowing out of her, and her tears continued to run. It crossed her mind that she must look like a crazy person, hurrying falteringly down an aisle, pushing past those in her way. Her mascara was running in a big way, which she discovered when she took a swipe at her wet cheek and her hand came back streaked with black. She ignored the strange looks people gave her as she passed, pretended not to hear any of the whispers. She managed to swallow a couple of the sobs, but here and there, one broke free from her lips, causing heads to turn.
Cassie had four people in line, and she stood behind a register next to a college-age young man as they worked together to ring out customers. When her gaze landed on Emerson, her eyes went very wide. Emerson pushed her way to the front of the line.
“Emerson? Are you okay?” Cassie asked, concern and irritation battling in full view on her face.
“No. No, I’m not. I need to talk to you, Cassie. Please.” Gordie suddenly appeared at her side, pushing against her, obviously worried.
Cassie looked around almost wildly, then held her arms out to the sides, palms up. “Emerson. I’m working. In case you didn’t notice, it’s pretty busy right now. Can it—.” She stopped talking abruptly as Emerson broke into heaving sobs.
“Oh my god, what is happening to me?” Emerson said under her breath, bracing herself against the counter as she tried to catch her breath. Gordie whimpered in his throat. Emerson looked at Cassie and whispered, “Please.”
“Frannie!” Cassie called out. A redhead appeared in a few seconds. “Can you take over here and help Damian?”
“Sure. No problem.”
Cassie moved around the counter past the customers who were too stunned to complain, grabbed Emerson firmly by the elbow and led her to the back stairway. “Gordie, stay.” The dog sat, obviously not happy about it. To Emerson, she said, “Come on. Come with me.” Taking Emerson’s hand in hers, she tugged her up the stairs.
Emerson felt like she had begun to get a handle on whatever breakdown she was having, and by the time they reached the top floor, she was breathing almost normally.
Until Cassie opened the door to her apartment and pulled Emerson inside.
“Oh, god. This is your place?”
Cassie glanced back at her. “Um, yeah.”
“It’s beautiful. Oh, my god. It’s so beautiful.” Realizing she’d almost sold it out from under Cassie, she felt the tears wash over her again, and she cried openly as she stood in Cassie’s entryway. She looked up through blurry, wet eyes and asked again, “What the hell is happening to me?”
Cassie shook her head, her expression conveying sympathy and also that she was at a loss. “Here.” She gestured to the small living area and the couch. “Sit down. I’ll get you some tea.”
Emerson sat, sobbed quietly, and tried hard to pull herself together. Cassie returned with a box of tissues, then disappeared again. Emerson could hear her moving in the kitchen, faint sounds of dishes and spoons emanating from behind a wall. She pulled a tissue from the box, blew her nose, then patted under her eyes as she tried not the think about how awful she must look. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, streaking mascara, snotty nose. All those people in the store staring at her. She groaned and shook her head, then sat back against the couch cushions and looked around.
The apartment wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t huge. It was, however, gorgeous. It had an open floor plan for the most part, except for the short breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living space. Two skylights let in the day from above, and a small gas fireplace occupied the corner of the room, positioned to warm not only the living room, but the makeshift dining area where Cassie had a table for two set near a window where Lake Henry could be seen in all its sun-reflecting glory. The hardwood floors were in great shape, the wood shiny and rich-looking. A doorway in front of Emerson gave her a peek at a bed covered with something emerald green and a pair of Nikes with their laces still tied strewn on the floor.
The wall next to the bedroom door was covered with photographs in frames of all shapes, sizes, and colors, and the fact that none of them matched made the collection more interesting than one would expect. Emerson kicked off her pumps, still sniffling a bit, and turned her gaze out the window.
“Here we go,” Cassie said quietly. She had two mugs of tea, and she set them on the coffee table. A trip back into the kitchen produced a small creamer and a sugar bowl. “I wasn’t sure how you take it.”
Emerson swallowed, wiped her eyes again. They doctored their individual tea in silence. Emerson sat back. Cassie folded one leg up so she sat facing her.
“So,” Cassie said. She took a small sip of the very hot tea, then perhaps thought better of drinking more and set it down. “What’s going on?” Though there was definite sympathy and worry in her voice, Emerson could also see trepidation. She was bracing for some kind of impact, even if she was trying not to show it. Emerson closed her eyes, looked down at the tea in her hand, hating that she’d made Cassie feel that way around her.
“I am honestly not sure,” she said after a long beat of silence.
“You’re all dressed up.”
“Yeah. I thought that was the right thing to do for a business meeting.”
“With Cross?”
Emerson didn’t meet her eyes. “Yes.”
“And now you’re a blubbering mess.”
With a snorted laugh, Emerson nodded.
“In public.”
“God, I know.” She blew her nose again.
“How come?”
Emerson shook her head.
“Is it your mom?” Cassie asked quietly and reached out to lay a hand on Emerson’s arm.
The lump that had never really left seemed to grow in Emerson’s throat, and she swallowed several times as she nodded and her eyes filled with those godforsaken tears yet again. “A little, I think. Yes.”
Cassie paused before asking her next question. “Do you think maybe you have some guilt about selling the inn and this building? That maybe she wouldn’t have
wanted you to?”
Emerson looked at her then. “I didn’t.”
Furrowing her brows, Cassie looked confused. “You didn’t what? Feel guilty?”
“Sell. I didn’t sell.”
Cassie went still and blinked at her. “You didn’t?”
“I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was ready to, and…I just couldn’t. I’m not completely sure why, but I think I have an idea.” She told Cassie about the saying on the receptionist’s desk and how it kept coming back to her while she was in the conference room. “I kept thinking that it couldn’t possibly be so simple as me stupidly letting my past shape my future, so simple that I read a quote and my whole life dissolved at my feet, but I couldn’t shake it. It was like a…a sign. Well, it was actually a sign, but…you know what I mean. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to do something, I don’t know, something different for a change, not take the same path I always take. I mean really, where has that gotten me?” Warm tears tracked down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She took Cassie’s hand in both of hers. “I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward. I have so many regrets in my life, Cassie. So many.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Trust me, I am way too young to have all the regrets I have.” She squeezed Cassie’s hand, looked into her rich brown eyes, and said softly, “I don’t want to add Lake Henry to that list. I don’t want to add you to that list.”
They were quiet for long moments, their hands clasped tightly. Finally, Cassie entwined their fingers, then looked up and asked, “What does that mean, exactly?” The question was gentle, free of any accusation.
“I don’t know for sure,” Emerson replied with a wan smile. “I just know that, for the first time in…ever…I’m just saying what I feel. Not what I’m supposed to say. Not what I think I should say. Just what I…feel.” She thumped a hand against her chest. “I’m being completely honest. I don’t know what it means. I’m just saying what’s in my heart.” Cassie nodded slowly. “For what it’s worth,” Emerson went on, “I have never been this honest with anybody. In my life.”
Cassie was quiet for several seconds before replying, “Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen a woman cry so much. In my life.”
They held each other’s gaze for a beat before bursting into laughter.
“Jesus, right?” Emerson said. “That was so weird. I literally felt like something broke inside me, and all these emotions just flooded my system.” She paused, pressed her fingertips against her forehead. “I think it might have been my mom.” Her eyes welled up yet again. “And we’re apparently not done.” She grinned through the tears and gave Cassie a shrug. “See? I can’t stop.”
“Oh, sweetie. Come here.” Cassie opened her arms and pulled Emerson into them, and they sat together on the couch while Emerson cried herself out and their tea got cold.
***
Cassie was just draping a blanket over Emerson’s sleeping form on the couch when the light tap at the door came. When she opened it, her mother stood in the hall, looking expectant and more than a little concerned. Cassie put a finger to her lips and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.
“Is everything all right?” Katie asked. “You’ve been gone for over an hour.”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” She sidled past and headed down the stairs, Katie on her heels. “She’s having a rough time.”
“And she came to you?”
Cassie stopped in the middle of the staircase and turned to face her mother, who was two steps above her. “Yes, Mom. She came to me. I’m glad she did.”
Katie pressed her lips together and Cassie knew her well enough to know she was reining herself in. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to judge.” Their eyes held. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Cassie’s demeanor softened. “I know. Me neither.”
“Come downstairs. It’s a zoo.”
Gordie was beside himself with joy at seeing her and stuck to her like glue for the rest of the day. The ski season had hit, as it usually did this time of year, and her mother was right; the store was a zoo. Cassie sent Frannie on her break and took care of a steady stream of customers for the next several hours.
The fact that her store was not being sold out from underneath her put an extra bounce in her step.
That, and Emerson was asleep on her couch.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Emerson had no clue what time it was when she opened her eyes, and for a brief moment, she had no idea where she was. She gave herself time…time to stretch out on the comfy couch, time to revel in the warmth of the blanket that had found its way over her and that smelled pleasantly of laundry detergent, time to remember the morning and how an emotional dam of some sort had split open inside her. Her eyes stung and her eyelids felt lined with sandpaper. She lay there for a long while and just breathed.
When she finally turned her head, she saw a stack of clothing on the coffee table and a note.
I thought some different clothes would be more comfortable than your suit. Help yourself to the kitchen. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. Cassie.
There was a smiley face next to her name. Of course there is, Emerson thought and it brought her own smile to her lips. The pile of clothing contained a pair of yoga pants, a well-worn Syracuse sweatshirt, and a pair of thick, warm-looking socks. Emerson was loathe to uncover herself, as the blanket was toasty and she loved the smell, but her pants had twisted around her hips and were restricting most movement. Her suit jacket was a wrinkled mess, she was sure.
Forcing herself up, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned widely as her eyes fell once again on the photographs on the wall she’d noticed earlier. It was a collage of different frames of varying sizes, all black. They told the story of Cassie’s life better than any explanation could. Pictures of her and her high school friends decked out in the Lake Henry High colors of orange and black. A picture of Cassie and a handsome young man, both holding up bottles of beer in a toast to the camera. Cassie and her sister and their parents. Chris, a man who Emerson assumed was Chris’s husband, and their three kids, then another with Cassie and the three kids. Cassie and Vanessa, arms linked, smiles wide and tooth-filled. Emerson lingered on that one for long moments. There were several shots of Gordie, from puppydom to present day. In every photo, Cassie’s smile was wide, her eyes crinkled in merriment. She was happy. She was a happy person.
Emerson wondered what that must be like.
She almost laughed out loud ten minutes later because she felt much happier in the sweats than she had in the suit. The yoga pants were the perfect length on Emerson, which told her they must be much too long on Cassie. The sweatshirt was washed-soft, thick and warm, and the socks were perfect. How was it possible that the right clothing could make a person feel a hundred and fifty percent better?
And how was it that she felt so much…lighter? This moment compared to when she’d woken up that morning were at opposite ends. She felt like somebody had lifted all the weight from her shoulders. She was relaxed. She was relieved. She felt good.
“What is going on with me?” she asked the room.
As if in answer, the door opened and Cassie walked in with a big grin.
“You’re up,” she said as she shut the door. “Hi.”
Emerson looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time that day. She wore black Nike wind pants and a pink fleece quarter-zip pullover. Her dark hair was pulled back and into a ponytail, a few stubborn wisps escaping to frame her face. Small gold hoops decorated her ears and her smile was warm, everything about her telling Emerson she was glad to see her.
“Hi, yourself.” Emerson gestured to her own outfit. “Thank you so much for the clothes. This is so much better than my suit.”
“I thought you might need something more comfortable, but I didn’t want to wake you to have you change. You were sleeping so peacefully.”
Only then did Emerson recall the last moments before she’d fallen asleep. She’d
been crying—no, blubbering—on Cassie’s shoulder. And Cassie held her the entire time. Emerson could feel the heat start in her chest, climb up her neck, and take up residence on her face. Even her ears grew hot.
“Oh, my god,” she said and looked away. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Oh, no.” Cassie hurried across the room and placed a hand on Emerson’s upper arm, gave it a squeeze. “Don’t be sorry. There’s no reason.” A reassuring smile crossed her face and the squeeze changed to a gentle rub. Cassie took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“What time is it?” Emerson asked, thankful for the shift in gears and realizing she had no idea what time it was.
“It’s going on three. You slept for a long time.” Cassie moved to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Things have died down in the shop, thank god. I was barely able to breathe, though I should never complain about being busy. I have to go back down in a bit, but I’m starving. How about a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Grilled cheese sounds heavenly.” Emerson followed Cassie into the kitchen. “Can I help?”
With a butter knife, Cassie gestured to one of the two stools under the breakfast bar. “Yes. You can sit there and talk to me while I cook.”
“I can do that.” Emerson sat and watched Cassie spread butter on bread.
“So, what happens now?” Cassie asked after a few moments. She kept her eyes on her task as she spoke.
Emerson propped her elbows on the counter and her chin in her hands. “I’m not exactly sure. I need to go back and talk to Brad Klein. He didn’t seem at all bothered by my sudden change of heart, but Mr. Cross certainly was.”
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