Suddenly, though, instead of taking a left to the house, she headed straight and looped back to the main street of town to find a spot for a cup of coffee. She didn’t want to go anywhere owned by a North, which made finding an espresso a hard thing to do. She glanced at Grandma Martha’s bakery and café as she drove by, but she saw a blinking espresso sign in the window at the end of the street. Emilia found a space to parallel park and made her way into the quaint antique store.
She spotted a woman with grey-streaked hair, knitting behind the counter and waved.
“Do you have coffee?” Emilia asked, hoping against hope. “Or a latte?”
“That we do.” The woman put her knitting aside and stood up, gesturing for Emilia to follow her through the cramped store to where the espresso stand had been set up.
“Visiting for long?” the woman asked as she tied a barista apron around her waist and smiled.
“Maybe just a few more days.” Emilia touched an antique brass lantern and immediately thought about Papa Jack. He had an entire set of these lanterns in a room he liked to call the library.
Truth be told, the entire house wasn’t much, but her grandparents had a way of making it feel like the grandest place on earth. No room was just a room. Each room had a purpose like a library or a master retreat or a sunroom for relaxing after a long day in the chef’s kitchen.
If anyone had heard Mama Cam and Papa Jack talk about their home, they would have thought Emilia grew up on a massive estate somewhere in New England where Emilia rode horses and went to boarding school.
Which was probably why Emilia always made sure her home felt like a sanctuary, no matter how cramped the place might be.
“Milk preference?” the woman asked, bringing Emilia back to reality.
“Oh, um, nonfat would be great.” Emilia nodded, noticing how much this woman reminded her of Mama Cam. It was something about the woman’s eyes. They were a deep sea-blue with a hint of mischief behind her gaze. It didn’t hurt that she had a sparkly headband holding back her grey hair and a pair of large globe earrings dangling from her ears to complete the look.
“So, what brought you here? You like to ski?” the woman asked as she began steaming the milk.
“I do, but this wasn’t a ski trip. Mostly a work trip.”
“Interesting.” She stopped steaming the milk and waited for the espresso shots to pull. “Not many people find work to do up in the mountains.”
“Leave it to me.” Emilia grimaced. “Work has a habit of following me, thanks to the internet.”
“Oh, goodness. Forget that whole thing.” The woman chuckled and poured the shots into a red cup before swirling the milk on top. “I stay as far away from the web as I can. Give me a good pair of knitting needles, and I’m gone for hours, if not days. It’s healthier for the soul.”
“What makes you so sure?” Emilia tilted her head as she took the drink from the woman.
“Everyone always wants to hide themselves away right in front of the world. It’s as if they think their computer will hide their bad behavior while they exhibit their good deeds for the world to see, which tells me they don’t want to hide at all. Doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess the internet is only as honest as people behind the scenes make it.”
“And since people aren’t always honest…” The woman chuckled. “I mean, imagine the dog hunting that’s going on now.”
Emilia’s eyes widened in horror. “Dog hunting?”
What in the world had she missed since she came to Silver Ridge?
“Yeah. You know where people pretend online to be someone they’re not to dupe some poor soul into believing they’re worth knowing?”
Emilia laughed and shook her head. “You mean catfishing.”
The woman waved her hand at Emilia. “I knew it had to do with some kind of outdoor activity.”
“It’s pretty scary to think about,” Emilia agreed, but then it occurred to her. Wasn’t that kind of what Hailee-turned-Emilia did to people? She was no more qualified to give life advice than a catfish.
“You know what I also find interesting?” the woman asked, her right brow raising slightly.
“What’s that?”
“This is the first time you’ve smiled since you entered my little shop.” The woman winked at Emilia, and Emilia’s chest filled with an emotion she didn’t understand.
Had she really let herself slip away? Was there any of the old Hailee left? The one who used to smile for hours while listening to music or laugh all night while watching movies with a best friend?
She let out a deep breath and took a sip of the latte. “Thanks. I needed to hear that. Sometimes, I forget how good this world can be.”
“What’s your name, dear?” she asked, untying her apron.
Emilia stood frozen. She didn’t want to lie to the woman who’d just revealed how much she despised people who pretended to be someone else online because that was exactly how Emilia suddenly felt.
But Emilia suddenly couldn’t figure out who she should be. Emilia or Hailee? Or was she both?
“Dear?”
Emilia chuckled nervously. “I’m Hailee Howard. My grandparents were—”
“Hailee?” The old woman’s brows shot up. “That’s you? Where on earth have you been hiding?”
“Oregon.” She let out a relieved sigh, finally feeling like herself. “I’ve been hiding out in Oregon.”
The woman hurried around the counter and gave Hailee an unexpected hug. “It’s so good to have you back in town. You probably don’t remember me, but I used to be in a knitting club with your Mama Cam. I’m Beverly Holt.”
“Mrs. Holt?” Emilia’s eyes widened, feeling extremely bad for not recognizing the woman who was Mama Cam’s best friend. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”
“And I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you, my dear.” She narrowed her eyes at Emilia. “But what’s this about your name being Emilia?”
“You know about that?” Emilia’s brows scrunched together.
“Of course. The entire town knows about it.”
“It’s complicated.” Emilia felt uncomfortable as the woman in front of her folded her arms. “Anyway, I’m on my way to visit the Olsens. I don’t want to be late.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
Emilia smiled and gave Beverly one last hug before heading out the door to visit the one place that would let her leave this town she’d once called home.
By the time she pulled up to her old house, she was a ball of nerves. It wasn’t like she didn’t know the Olsens. She’d come to know them quite well over the years, but she also hadn’t expected to see Mrs. Holt, who happened to remind her that there was more to life than the personas everyone created.
Emilia stepped out of the car, and Mrs. Olsen opened the red front door of the white painted Tudor cottage. She loved how the Olsens had kept her grandparents’ home pretty much the same since the day they moved in. Even the red shutters had the matching red window boxes beneath. Granted, this time of year, the only things that survived in them were a few spindly-looking cabbages and nearly-naked primroses.
“Hi, Mrs. Olsen.” Emilia waved as she made her way to the tiny front porch. Small toys were scattered in the entry hall as Mrs. Olsen welcomed her in.
“Welcome home.” Mrs. Olsen smiled. “We haven’t really done much since we moved in. The kitchen is the same, the library, the floors…but since we loved it so much the way it was, it made it extremely difficult to want to do a remodel.”
“You were always so good to the place.” Emilia grinned and let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.
As Emilia looked around the home, warmth spread through her entire body as a rash of sweet memories filled her senses. Whether Mama Cam was baking cookies in the kitchen or Papa Jack was attempting to change a light bulb in the too-tall ceiling of the entry hall, she remembered every little sound, smell, and utterance of the two people who’d meant so
much to her.
It was impossible to believe that Emilia had ever wanted to leave this place.
“Bob and I are actually glad you came to town.” She smoothed her skirt and gestured for Emilia to follow her into the kitchen, where a lemon loaf had been sliced on a couple of plates. “We wanted to let you know what we thought before we officially put the home on the market.”
Emilia’s gaze whipped to Mrs. Olsen as she cleared a few toy building blocks from the dining room chair for Emilia.
“You’re moving? I thought you loved it here.”
Mrs. Olsen nodded. “We do, but Bob’s employer is shutting down the plant and moving all the jobs to Montana. The company is offering a one-time payment to move, and we think it would be foolish not to take them up on the offer.”
Emilia took a bite of the lemon loaf and nodded in agreement. Rarely did companies help with a move nowadays, even if the company was the reason the family needed to relocate.
“We wanted to offer you the home back at a fair-market value before we contacted an agent. I know you have a life in Oregon, but…”
Emilia was stunned. She never imagined the Olsens leaving, and she really never pictured herself wanting the home back.
But as she sat in her grandparents’ kitchen with the pine cabinets and white tile countertops, she almost couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, which made absolutely no sense.
Her eyes dropped to the white linoleum floor as she tried to gain her bearings. She couldn’t let the overwhelming surge of emotions crush her decision-making skills. Was she only imagining this fictitious lifestyle because she might come into a little more money, or did she actually want to live here?
She let out a slow breath and returned her gaze back to Mrs. Olsen.
“I don’t know what to say.” She sucked on her bottom lip and nodded slowly. “This is a lot to take in. If you’d asked me two weeks ago, I would have told you a flat-out no, but now I’m not so sure. It’s kind of nice being back in Silver Ridge.” And it was, except for the flood of emotions and uncertainty that were hovering right beneath her consciousness.
Emilia twisted her lips into a scowl and reminded herself that while she might have scored a lucky deal with a publisher, she didn’t need to go buying second homes.
Except this wouldn’t be a second home because she didn’t have a first. She was only renting in Oregon, so this purchase wouldn’t really qualify as something extravagant.
Or would it?
“This is a lot.”
“I thought it might be.” Mrs. Olsen gave her an empathetic nod and smiled.
“How are your kids taking it?”
“Kids are resilient. They’ll be fine. I’d say if we were moving to somewhere that didn’t have snow in the winter, it would be more devastating, but as it is, everything should be just fine.”
Emilia nodded and took a bite of the lemon loaf, enjoying the tartness coating her lips.
“When do you need an answer by?”
“We’d love one by the end of next week.”
“Okay. I’ll be sure to have my answer to you by then. It was really thoughtful of you guys to think of coming to me first.”
“With everything you’ve given us over the years…” Mrs. Olsen’s voice trailed off.
“I haven’t given you anything.”
“Don’t kid yourself.” Mrs. Olsen smiled. “Overlooking the fact that we got you the rent check later than it was due more times than not is something we can’t thank you enough for.”
Emilia felt uncomfortable and hurriedly polished off her slice of lemon loaf. “You always got me the rent that was due, and that’s all that mattered.”
“Most landlords aren’t as generous as you.”
“I doubt it was generosity. More like inexperience.” Emilia smiled and noticed the tears welling up in Mrs. Olsen’s eyes. “So, the kids are going to be fine with the move, but how about you?”
Mrs. Olsen let out a sigh. “I honestly don’t know. This is where Bob and I got engaged and had children… We have so many happy memories here, it’s hard to leave.”
“But you’ll make just as many in your new place,” she assured her. “Sometimes, shaking it up is a good thing.”
“Is that what Oregon did for you?” Mrs. Olsen asked. “Shake it up for you?”
The Olsens were among the very few who knew Emilia was Hailee and Hailee was Emilia. She’d managed to rent the home to them before she’d officially changed all of the documents so many years ago, but they’d always kept her secret.
“I suppose it did.” Emilia nodded in agreement.
“Then why aren’t you telling me no?” Mrs. Olsen asked. “If Oregon is truly your new home, what is there to debate about?”
Emilia flashed a wry grin in Mrs. Olsen’s direction as her words settled over her. Mrs. Olsen was right. If Emilia honestly felt Oregon was her home, why was she bothering to entertain the idea of buying back the house?
“I think you’re right.” Emilia nodded. “Let me talk to a broker, and I’ll be in touch.”
“We’d absolutely love it if you bought it.” Mrs. Olsen smiled. “It would feel like it was staying in the family. The only other person we’d mentioned it to was someone who grew up here years ago. He was back in town last week, and my husband happened to mention it to him.”
Emilia stiffened in her chair. “Really? Who was that?”
“Josh Turner. Do you know him?” she asked in complete innocence.
“From years ago.” Emilia nodded, feeling a sudden burn of annoyance.
Why would Josh want her grandparents’ home?
“I think the guy thought it would make a good vacation rental, so I’m sure if he got the place, he’d tear it all up.” Mrs. Olsen scowled and let out a sigh.
Emilia ground her teeth together at this bit of news and stared out the kitchen window, which overlooked the wooded lot behind. It would make sense Josh would want to buy something that meant a lot to Emilia just so he could destroy it.
The truth of it was that she could only blame herself, but it certainly made the decision a lot easier.
“I’ll buy it back.” Emilia sprang up from her chair as Mrs. Olsen came in for a hug.
Now, her only hope was that the book deal really went through.
“I’m so relieved. The thought of this place becoming some ultra-modern vacation spot made me sick.”
“Me too.” Emilia smiled, stepping back from Mrs. Olsen.
She couldn’t believe she’d just bought her old home. Never in a million years did Emilia think she’d come back to Silver Ridge to say goodbye, only to be left clinging to memories she’d thought she no longer wanted.
But one thing was becoming abundantly clear. She was tired of running and hiding.
And Emilia suddenly wondered if she was only running from herself.
Chapter Ten
“So, what are you telling me?” Josh smacked blank sheets of paper on top of the conference table and stared at his senior editor. It was early Monday morning, and he was already exhausted by the week to come.
“I’m telling you that I’m not sure your small-town ingénue is actually capable of writing this book.” Suzanne rolled back in the conference chair and kept her gaze focused on Josh. She crossed her right leg over her left, exposing her bright red stilettos while she bounced her foot anxiously.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate your using your English lit degree to insult her.” Josh’s brow rose in surprise. “And I highly doubt she’s either innocent or naïve.”
Suzanne’s raven-colored hair and short bob accentuated her high cheekbones and strong jawline. If Josh didn’t know Suzanne had a degree in English Literature and grew up with a librarian for a father and a bestselling author for a mother, he’d guess her to be a dominatrix of the fun variety. She preferred to wear leather and latex most days of the week, and that was her daytime attire. The thought of what she was up to after-hours almost scared Josh to death. Truth be to
ld, Josh doubted there was any fun variety of S&M.
But she was excellent at what she did. Suzanne could pull a story out of a turnip, and that was sometimes what she had to do to get their writers to budge. Just because a good story was in someone didn’t mean it would actually make it out of them intact.
“So, what do we have so far?” he asked, raising a brow in Suzanne’s direction.
“What’s in front of you.”
“Those pages are blank.”
“Pretty astute of you there, Boss.” Suzanne grinned, knowing she was one of the few people who could get away with talking to Josh Turner like that.
“I was supposed to have the first chapter this morning. She’s had four weeks.” Not only was Josh concerned about this lack of words from a business standpoint, but the waiting had also been excruciating on a personal level. Hailee’s instructions were simple. Start the story in high school or earlier, if that’s where her first taste of love developed. “What have you been doing with her?”
“Listen, Josh. I’ve worked with some tough writers, but Emilia literally clams up. It’s like she’s physically incapable of writing the story you want her to tell.”
“Nothing’s impossible.” Josh pressed his lips together. “Maybe she’s trained her mind to only work on small snippets, and the thought of something more paralyzes her.”
“It could be.” Suzanne nodded in agreement. “But that doesn’t help us much.”
Josh shrugged and stared at his phone, which happened to have Hailee’s blog on the screen.
“She’s managed to do her daily posts. If we were to add all of those up, it would equal far more than a chapter.”
“So I need to tell her to quit posting there and start focusing on her chapter?”
“I honestly don’t care what you tell her, but I do care that I have nothing but blank pages sitting in front of me. Why didn’t you tell me this on Friday?”
“She assured me she’d have something to me by this morning.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I kind of like the girl, and I truly believed she would.”
A Funny Thing About Love Page 7