Feeling wistful, she pushed the box aside and tugged the second one close. It was large, but not as heavy as she’d expected. When she opened it she saw why. It was filled with clothes and shoes. She sorted through them, finding as expected that most of them were haute couture. Others were just obscenely expensive labels. Some of them—items probably purchased on a manic shopping spree—still had price tags dangling from the labels.
Mia wasn’t sure whether it was relief or disappointment that made her sigh as she pushed the big box aside and pulled the last one closer. Was this all that was left of her mother? A bunch of expensive material items? What had she hoped to find?
She pushed away the large box. At least she could donate the clothes. She knew of a reputable dealer who sold celebrity items to auctions. And a couple charities that would make good use of the money.
But still that hollow feeling was already swelling inside. The one that made her feel unvalued, unloved, unworthy. She reminded herself of the truth Brooke had just spoken. Mia was worthy in God’s eyes. He loved her. He wanted her. He’d never leave her. She wasn’t replaceable in her own life or in God’s story. That was the truth, and that was enough to sustain her.
She’d believed a lie for too long. It had caused her to hold back, and that was self-sabotage. If she was going to get her life together—and she was—she had to believe she was worthy of love, even if people left her. Even if everyone left her.
It sure was easier to think the notion than it was to believe it was true.
But one step at a time. If she reminded herself often enough, she’d come to believe it. Just as she’d once come to believe the lie.
The last box was smaller than the others and disappointing in its slight weight. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back the flaps. An old black Bible rested on top. Mia opened it and read the inscription. To Katherine. Love, Mama and Daddy. It was dated May 30, 1978.
Her mother would’ve been . . . eighteen at the time. Maybe it had been her graduation gift. Mia frowned. Her mother had left home shortly after her graduation. Had she brought the Bible with her? She must’ve, since her parents had written her off after she’d left.
Mia set aside the Bible, revealing a shoe box beneath it. She pulled out the box, which was filled with envelopes. Unopened letters, she realized as she withdrew a handful.
Her eyes homed in on the return address of the first one, written in a familiar script. The sender was Dorothy Livingston. Sucking in her breath, Mia flipped through the entire handful—ten or twelve letters, all from her grandmother.
A sudden coldness swept over Mia. Her mom had lied to her. Her parents hadn’t written her off. Dorothy had obviously made an effort to stay in contact. And Mia’s mom hadn’t even cared enough to open the letters.
Mia began sorting through all the envelopes in the box. When she was about halfway through, she found an envelope with different handwriting, the scrawl darker, more masculine. She pulled it out. The sender’s name was Everett James.
Mia’s father.
Mia blinked at the envelope as her heart flopped around her chest like a fish. The letter wasn’t addressed to her mom, but to Mia.
She turned the envelope over. Still sealed. She hastily went back to the box and continued sorting. She found more letters from her dad. Postcards too. She pulled them all out, a crazy mixture of excitement and wonder flooding through her.
Anger breathed just beneath the surface. Her dad had tried to keep in contact with her, and her mom had hidden that from her. How different might her life have been if she’d only known?
Mia put aside her feelings toward her mom and focused on the letters from her dad. She pulled out the tenth one, the twelfth one, and kept going.
He cared about me. He loved me.
The envelopes blurred as she sorted through them, but even through her tears she easily recognized the masculine scrawl. She got all the way through the box and counted the letters. Twenty-eight. There were twenty-eight letters from her father. She clutched them to her chest, her heart leaping with joy.
forty-seven
On Monday night Brooke came over to hang out. She’d brought Chinese food, and they chowed down before settling in the living room to watch their favorite Netflix movie. Brooke was heading out of town tomorrow morning, so it was their last night together before Mia went to Ireland.
Mia shifted on the sofa. The movie had been going for a while, but her mind was on other things. Her father, her grandparents, her mother, Levi. All of it was tangled up in her head like last year’s Christmas lights.
The image on the screen froze, and Mia’s eyes darted to Brooke, who was pointing the remote at the TV but looking at Mia.
“What’s wrong?” Mia asked.
“That was your favorite part, and you didn’t even laugh. You want to watch something else?”
“No.” Mia played with the tassel on a pillow. “It’s not the movie. I’m just distracted. Sorry.”
“What’s going on?”
She gave Brooke a long look. “I went through those boxes of my mom’s.”
“I was wondering. Did you find something upsetting?”
“You could say that. There were letters from my dad in there—unopened letters.”
“Mia.” Brooke shot upright in her seat. “Your dad wrote you? When?”
“Apparently he wrote me a lot when I was a kid—twenty-eight letters in all. He loved me, Brooke. His letters . . . They just made my heart melt. And all this time I thought he walked out the door and never looked back. My mother let me think that. Why would she do that?”
Brooke winced. “I don’t know. But at least you have the letters now. Did he say why he never came back to see you? Why he didn’t try to get visitation rights?”
“He didn’t mention anything like that. He asked about my life, even though he must’ve known, after a while, that I wasn’t going to write back. He must’ve thought I didn’t care about him. That I didn’t want him in my life. That I still don’t want him in my life.”
“Well, it’s not too late, is it? You can always write him or even go see him.”
“I don’t even know where he’s living now. He moves around a lot with his job, remember?”
“So hire a PI again. By the time you get back from Ireland you might have an answer.”
Mia had been weighing that thought since she’d finished reading the letters last night. She’d been a soggy mess, lying in bed amongst a graveyard of crumpled tissues. But she was thinking clearly now, and she knew Brooke was right. She had to do whatever was necessary to find him. She had to let him know she hadn’t received his letters.
“I’m going to do it.” She looked at Brooke, her heart in her eyes. “My dad cares about me, Brooke.”
Her friend reached over and took her hand. “How could he not?”
After Brooke left, Mia located the PI she’d used before. It was after hours, so she left a voicemail. Then she settled in her bed and began reading through her grandmother’s letters. They made her heart hurt.
Dorothy may not have written about her daughter in her journal, but in these letters she’d poured out her heart. Her grandparents had obviously grieved their daughter’s absence. The relationship sounded nothing like the way her mother had portrayed it. But then, her mother hadn’t been very stable.
Why had Mia taken her word on so many important things? How many other things had she lied about?
She shifted in her bed, her eyes clinging to the words her grandmother had written.
Lake season is upon us, and your father and I are busy with guests. The dogwoods have bloomed, and the weeping willows you loved so much are dipping their fingers into the water. The mountains are green with life, and the lake ripples with activity.
Mia’s eyes stung as she thought of Bluebell. Of the inn. Of Levi. What was he doing right now? She wanted to tell him about the letters from her father. She wanted to tell him she was going to find him and held out hope for a relationship with him.
Levi would be so happy for her. He’d hold her in his arms, stroking her back until she felt worthy of a father’s love.
Mia hugged a pillow to her aching chest. She missed Levi so much. Especially when the busyness of the day was done, when the moon rose high in the sky. Some nights she thought she’d die of missing him. She’d picked up her phone a dozen times only to make herself put it back down. If he wanted to talk to her he’d call.
There was only one final connection between them. The package. She hadn’t seen it since she’d buried it under her clothes—the same way she’d buried her mom’s boxes in the closet. Was she going to wait seven years to face his parting gift?
No. She was done with hiding from things that might hurt. She was going to live bravely, pain or no.
She slipped from bed and walked to her bureau. The drawer glided open easily, and her fingers sifted through the silk to find the package at the bottom. Once she had it in hand, she closed the drawer and sank onto her bed.
Steeling herself, she began undoing the generous strips of Scotch tape. She smiled wistfully, envisioning Levi wrapping the gift, his thick fingers clumsy with the delicate task. She unfolded the layers of tissue, and when she got to the center she gaped at the prize nestled there.
A necklace. Her eyes fastened on the sparkling blue stone. The Carolina Breeze. She blinked in disbelief.
He’d found it.
When?
Where?
And why had he given it to her? It belonged to him. She thought of the mess the flood had created. Of all the money Levi was losing while the business was down. He was so stressed. That inn meant everything to him and his sisters.
And all he had to do to save it was sell this necklace. She looked down at the jewel, still sparkling with life even after all these years. But he’d given it to her instead.
Her heart caught at the thought. She clutched her fist to her chest. He’d never even told her he loved her. But hadn’t he shown her in a hundred different ways? He’d taken care of her when she’d fallen. He’d supported her through the scandal. He’d listened patiently as she’d shared her deepest wounds.
This necklace was just one more piece of evidence—and a very convincing one.
Maybe he did have too much on his plate right now. But couldn’t she partner with him, share some of the load? Long-distance relationships weren’t easy, but she had significant time off between projects. Surely there was a way to work through these challenges if they loved each other enough.
But Levi couldn’t know how she felt because she’d never told him. Despite her efforts to open up and allow herself to be vulnerable, she’d held back this one thing.
She palmed her forehead. How had she forgotten to tell Levi the most important thing of all?
forty-eight
Levi ran the roller over the base coat of paint in the upstairs hallway. The drywall was now up, taped, mudded, and sanded. The last few days an army of friends/painters had come and gone at the inn, putting in what time they could.
They had guests arriving this weekend—a full house. Two more days of painting and almost a full day to air out the house. He thought they just might make it.
The insurance check had been deposited, and they even had a bit left over, since they’d employed so many volunteers. They’d use the extra money to pay down his credit cards. It would leave enough wiggle room for small emergencies.
Next on the agenda was phase two of his marketing plan. They couldn’t afford to implement it this year, but hopefully they’d make enough during the rest of the season to kick it off next spring. That was wishful thinking, since they also had to make it through winter. He’d share his concerns at the next Moan and Groan because he’d promised himself—and his sisters—that he wasn’t going to carry this burden alone anymore.
He had to admit, sharing the load had relieved a lot of stress. Funny how that worked. And even though he’d told his sisters many times that they were headaches, the truth was they were actually helping to alleviate them. He was keeping that information to himself though.
The girls had been all atwitter since Molly’s engagement a little over a week ago. She and Adam were more inseparable than ever. Even though Levi still ached for Mia, it did his heart good to see love going right for his sister. The wedding was going to be next summer sometime, and Grace was already whining about the dress she’d have to wear as maid of honor.
Speaking of Grace, she was making progress on her business. She’d had business cards printed and was designing her own website in her spare time—though there hadn’t been much of that. She’d promised to keep her hours at the inn and focus on her business on the side for the time being. She needed time and money to buy equipment.
Now that the flood damage was almost repaired and his sisters’ lives were, well, his sisters’, Levi realized he might’ve acted in haste where Mia was concerned. Hours spent wielding a paintbrush and roller had given him too much time to think about her.
The memories were his constant companion, both a blessing and a curse. He missed those big green eyes staring up at him with affection. He missed the gentle curve of her waist, just the right size for his hands. He missed everything about her, all the time. He hadn’t known it would be this hard.
And, in retrospect, he even felt a little jilted. Maybe he’d been the one to end things, but she hadn’t exactly fought him on it. And she hadn’t contacted him once—even about the necklace. It was all he needed to confirm her feelings were just as he’d suspected. He’d only been a stopgap. A romance to while away the summer.
She was Mia Emerson, after all. She could have any man she wanted.
He scratched his nose, the paint fumes filling his nostrils even though all the windows were open. The sucking sounds of rollers carried from the other rooms along with the idle chatter of Adam and Molly, Grace and her friend Sarah.
The door in the lobby downstairs opened, and footsteps sounded below. Fresh air flowed up the stairwell. Since no one called up and they weren’t expecting more painters tonight, Levi climbed down from the ladder.
“Be right with you,” he called.
He set his roller in the pan. Even with their No Vacancy sign lit, people still stopped in to inquire now and then. He made his way down the steps. With his paint-splotched shirt and jeans he didn’t look much like an innkeeper, but that couldn’t be helped.
As he rounded the turn, he caught sight of the lower half of a woman, standing near the door. “Sorry to say, we’re closed for renovations at the—”
He caught sight of her face. His feet stuttered along with his tongue. He blinked. Wondered if the paint fumes were messing with his mind. Because he could swear Mia Emerson was standing in his lobby, clutching her purse with both hands. Staring back at him with those beautiful green eyes.
“Mia.”
Her smile wobbled uncertainly. “Surprise.”
He thought he could trust his feet to function again, so he descended the remaining stairs. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Ireland?” Then his face heated because he only knew she’d gotten the role back from stalking her online.
“I’m kind of headed that way now.” Noises came from overhead, and her eyes followed the sounds. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all. I was just . . .” He looked at his clothes. “Painting. Obviously.”
“How’s the inn coming along?”
“We’re almost finished. We’ll be open this weekend, in fact. Our neighbors descended on us and . . .” He shrugged. “They’re getting the job done.”
What was she doing here? And why were they talking about mundane things like renovations when all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms?
“Wow, that’s so great. Good old Bluebell.”
There were a hundred things Levi wanted to tell her about. Molly’s engagement, Grace’s business, every monotonous restoration detail. He wanted to ask her about her upcoming role and if
she was excited about Ireland and if the paparazzi were still hounding her.
But most of all he wanted to tell her he’d missed her more than he’d ever dreamed possible. And he wanted to know . . . Did she miss him too?
* * *
Even in his paint-spattered clothes Levi was the most beautiful man Mia had ever seen. Her heart tugged at the sight of him. At the streak of beige paint on his nose and the speckles scattered throughout his dark hair. She loved that he was a hard worker. That he was steady and dependable. Traits that might be overlooked as boring, but to a girl from a chaotic childhood, they were everything.
She shifted her purse to her shoulder, fingers twitching in the awkward silence. He was wondering why she was here. She could see the question in the tilt of his head, the pinch of his brows.
She was starting to wonder too. Maybe she should’ve just handled this via mail. But it was more than the envelope in her purse that had brought her here.
“I—I have something for you.” Mia took a brave step closer, her legs trembling. “But first there’s something I want to say.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets, regarding her with those patient blue eyes. “All right.”
“Things were kind of crazy when I left with the flood and all. And I was caught off guard when you ended things.”
He started to speak.
But she held up a hand, needing to get this out. “A lot has happened in the past two weeks. Life-changing stuff. It’s made me realize that there are some things that went unsaid when I was here. Or maybe I just wasn’t brave enough to say them.
“Opening up is something I have to work at, Levi. And I thought I was making good headway while I was here. But last night I realized I’d left out the most important thing of all.” She found his eyes, locked onto them, relieved to find warmth there in the blue depths.
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