by Sophie Love
As she left his porch she felt a sudden warmth spread around her shoulders like a blanket. Was it Charlotte’s spirit telling her she was doing the right thing, thanking her for her kindness and generosity, reminding her to spread love? Emily knew that had Charlotte lived she’d be doing exactly this. And though she would never know for certain if it was Charlotte’s spirit acting through her, she held onto that feeling nonetheless, grateful to have something to comfort her when her despair at Trevor’s situation took hold.
*
While Chantelle was at school and Daniel was out following an eBay lead for an amazing collection of Kandinsky glass bowls and vases, Emily tried to put the shock of Trevor’s health issues out of her mind by throwing herself into B&B work. She sat down at her laptop and began looking through her various spreadsheets, making a to-do list. It felt like a long time since she’d put so much effort into the inn. She’d become sidetracked by Chantelle.
Looking through the finances spreadsheet was an eye-opener. She’d left it until last, knowing that seeing the reality of her situation in black and white would make it feel even more perilous. The deadline with the back taxes payoff loomed ever closer and at the same time the general emptiness of the B&B at this slow time of the year meant that she had little means with which to pay it off. She had no idea what would come of them if they got kicked out of the house.
She spent the next few hours sprucing up the website design and putting some advertisements into local newspapers, plus some further afield, and crossed her fingers that something good would come of it.
Before long, Daniel returned with the new glassware—a fruit bowl and vase for the carriage house restoration. He came up behind her, peering over her shoulder at the laptop screen and planting a kiss on her head.
“Inn stuff,” Emily explained, swiveling in the chair to face him. “I’m changing some of the marketing materials. I hope it means that we get more guests.”
Daniel had a mischievous smile on his lips. “Did you include anything about the carriage house in your materials?”
Emily frowned. “No. I mean, it’s not ready yet, is it?”
Daniel’s smile grew even wider. “Surprise,” he said.
“Surprise what?” Emily cried, jumping from her chair. “You mean it’s done? You’ve finished?” She smacked him. “Why’ve you been keeping it a secret?”
Daniel laughed and wrestled her into a hug. “I wanted to talk about it at the restaurant but we both know how that went. Then I was going to tell you this morning but there was the whole Trevor situation. So I figured that the best thing to do would be to pick up these last couple of pieces this morning and take you to see it now.”
Emily burst into a smile. This was just the kind of good news she needed right now. “I can see it?”
Daniel grabbed her hand. “I’ll give you the tour.”
They rushed out of the house and down the driveway, turning off to the path that led to the carriage house. Then Daniel opened the door and showed her inside.
Emily stepped inside and gasped. Her breath was stolen by the beauty of the place. It was stunning. There was a gorgeous kitchen area with bespoke wooden work surfaces and an antique farmhouse-style sink similar to the one they had up in the big house. The old breakfast bar had been torn out and replaced with a new wood-topped island, a couple of leather barstools sitting beneath it. In the new sitting room portion of the house there was a red leather couch. Emily couldn’t help but feel a little sad to know that their old lovemaking couch was gone.
“I know, right?” Daniel said, seemingly reading her mind. “End of an era.”
Emily nodded. “It’s amazing. You’ve done such a great job. But it’s so strange to think of someone else living here, isn’t it?”
In Daniel’s eyes, Emily could see his pride in the place mixed with an air of sadness. She wondered if she also detected a hint of fear and hoped that if she had, it wasn’t because they were now fully committed to living in one house together. If Daniel was apprehensive about that level of commitment, what did it mean for their future together? And what did that, in turn, mean about his failed proposal last night?
“I brought this with me,” Daniel said, pulling a camera out of his pocket. “I thought you might want some pictures to put on the website.”
“Great,” Emily said, though her heart was feeling heavier than it had been when they’d first come through the door.
“Start in the bedroom. You’ll love the new bed frame I found in Rico’s.”
Emily was just as astounded by the transformation of this room. Daniel’s previous bedroom had been shabby, with his guitar in one corner and books strewn around. Every inch a bachelor’s room. But now it looked elegant. His personality had been stripped out from it, replaced by an opulent color scheme of powder blue and gold. Emily couldn’t help but wonder where his stuff had actually gone. It had been assimilated into the inn, some of the books on one shelf, some on another, DVDs in a drawer, photographs and artworks in the attic. There was nowhere in the main house that was truly his, where he could put his own style and express his personal interests. Maybe that was part of the reason she sensed resistance in him from time to time. Maybe he felt suppressed, stifled in the strange, formal surroundings of the inn.
“All done?” he asked once Emily had taken several snaps. “It’s almost time to pick up Chantelle.”
Emily nodded and they both left the carriage house together.
“Just one more,” Emily said. “Of the outside.”
She framed the image in the viewfinder and snapped. As she did, she caught sight through the hole the storm had made in the trees of the front of Trevor’s house. The care package was nowhere to be seen; he’d taken it inside. Emily was relieved to know he’d accepted it but she vowed to do more for him, to reach out and help. It’s what Charlotte wanted after all, what she would have done had she still been alive to do it. And she could get Chantelle to help; the little girl always had such great ideas, not to mention the energy and enthusiasm to carry them out.
They drove together to Chantelle’s school and picked her up, waving to the parents and Chantelle’s growing gang of friends.
“We have a lot of crafting to do this evening,” Emily told the girl as they strolled hand in hand back to the pickup truck. “There are still thirty people to make invitations for.”
Chantelle looked more wide-eyed and excited than Emily had ever seen her before. A big, happy Thanksgiving was clearly something she’d never experienced.
“I also wanted to make a cake,” Emily said, helping Chantelle into her seat. “For my sick friend. The one I was telling you about.”
She noticed Daniel’s frown and ignored him. He probably thought she was going over the top with Trevor, especially since he was part of the reason for her current financial woes, but she didn’t care. Charlotte’s spirit had told her to spread love no matter what.
Once back at the inn, Chantelle sprang immediately into action, spreading out her craft materials on the table.
“So you’re inviting Trevor to Thanksgiving?” Daniel said to Emily as he looked over the list of attendees.
“He probably won’t come but I want him to know that he’s welcome.”
“I know you’re acting out of a sense of humanity but must I remind you that Trevor’s the same man who’s trying his hardest to run you out of business. He might be dying but that hasn’t changed.”
“I know,” Emily said. “But no one should have no one.”
No sooner had she said the words than she knew that they had once belonged to Charlotte, that she was echoing her sister’s sentiments. The thought comforted her.
Thinking of Charlotte reminded Emily of the games they would play in the vast house. Hide and go seek was a particular favorite since there were so many places to hide. Recalling it now, Emily could hardly believe she hadn’t yet played it with Chantelle.
“Who wants to play hide and go seek?” Emily suddenly announced.
>
Chantelle looked thrilled. “Me!”
“Okay,” Emily said. “You hide first.”
Chantelle bounded out of the room with excitement as Emily began to count. As she did, she felt the warmth of Charlotte’s spirit again surrounding her, telling her she approved. Emily realized then what Charlotte was trying to tell her: enjoy yourself. Even in the darkest moments it was important to have fun, to bond, to share experiences with one another. Life was short. Hers had been. It could be snatched away at any moment just as hers had, just as Trevor’s was about to be.
Emily finished counting and went off in search of Chantelle, her mind recalling footsteps she’d walked decades earlier, feeling time shift and ebb around her as she retraced paths she’d long ago followed. It was disorienting but joyous at the same time. And when she saw a tuft of blond hair peeking out from behind the grandfather clock in the hall, her mind flashed back to a time when it had been Charlotte hiding in that exact spot, her blond hair giving her away.
“Found you!” Emily cried, reaching for Chantelle and tickling her mercilessly, just as she had done with her sister all those years ago.
Chantelle squealed with joy, her resemblance to Charlotte in that moment uncanny.
“Your turn!” she cried, and it was Charlotte’s voice that Emily heard.
Emily raced off to hide, feeling more energized than she had in years, feeling like a child again. As they played several more rounds of hide and go seek, Emily was at times playing with Chantelle in the present day inn, but at other times playing with Charlotte in their father’s vacation house from many years before. She dipped in and out of reality and memories as they played a card game up in the attic, followed by skipping in the yard. It warmed Emily’s soul to play these fun, silly games from her youth again. It felt rejuvenating, and she felt closer to Charlotte than she had done at any other point since moving here.
Finally, exhausted from their extended playdate, Chantelle and Emily settled into the living room for another relaxing evening. Chantelle scribbled away with her craft materials at the coffee table, Daniel plucked a song on his acoustic guitar, the dogs rolling languorously on the rug beside the hearth. Emily read a novel—or at least she tried to, but in reality she couldn’t help but become distracted by the scene before her. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined the life she was living now. The tranquility of it. The beauty. The love she had for Daniel and Chantelle seemed to grow every day. The sense of peace she felt in Sunset Harbor became stronger, too, and her passion for the success of the inn increased. This was where she was supposed to be, what had always been missing in her life.
As Emily’s mind wandered, the doorbell suddenly rang. She got up, discarding her novel on the couch, and went to the door expecting to see Owen there in his corduroy jacket with sheet music tucked beneath his arm, or Serena with her sleek black hair coiled into some elaborate style bringing her smoky scent with her, or maybe Vanessa with Katy; any one of them standing at her doorstep would not have been a surprise.
But the person Emily opened the door to was more than a surprise, it was like coming face to face with a ghost. Because when she saw who it was on the other side her mouth dropped open with shock.
There, in her faded, ripped jeans, with her strawlike blond hair, stood Sheila.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Emily was hit with a torrent of emotions; shock, fear, and disbelief all swirled together inside of her. But the feeling that overwhelmed her most was the need to protect Chantelle, to keep her safe from the emotional harm that Sheila’s sudden appearance could inflict upon her.
It took Emily all of two seconds to size Sheila up and realize she was as high as a kite. The woman wavered on the doorstep, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She was pale, thinner than the last time Emily had seen her, her collar bone protruding sharply beneath her grubby white tank top.
Emily didn’t need to ask Sheila what she was doing here because the answer was patently obvious. She wanted to see Chantelle. She wanted to intrude on their happy life and stake a claim to the child who no longer loved her. And there was no way in hell Emily was letting that happen.
“Where is she?” Sheila said in her southern accent, slurring the words.
Emily ignored Sheila’s question. “How did you get here?”
But Sheila was single-minded, focused only on her goal. She tried to shove past Emily into the house, but her emaciated arms weren’t strong enough. Emily held her back easily.
“Where’s my Chantelle?” Sheila demanded, her voice growing stronger.
“She’s playing,” Emily said. “She’s happy. And she doesn’t need to see you in this state.”
Sheila snarled at Emily. “What does my state matter to you, you stuck-up bitch?”
Emily could feel her sympathy waning and her temper flaring. “I’m the woman who’s been caring for your daughter because you’re too high to do it. I don’t think I deserve to be sworn at.”
Sheila narrowed her eyes and swayed.
“Look,” Emily said, trying to be diplomatic, “why don’t you calm down? Take some deep breaths. Head back to your hotel and come back tomorrow when you’re sober. Give me some time to prepare Chantelle to see you.”
“Prepare her?” Sheila scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m here for my kid. I’m taking her home.”
Emily went instantly cold. Sheila wasn’t just here to see the child, she wanted her back.
“You can’t do that,” Emily stammered.
“I’m her mom.”
“You relinquished care to Daniel.”
“Think that will hold up in a court of law?” Sheila sneered. Then over Emily’s shoulder she began to shout, “Chantelle! Chantelle, where are you?”
Emily tussled with Sheila, shoving her out of the door and onto the porch. Her heart was hammering with anguish. “Please, this is not the way to do it,” she said through her teeth. “You’ll scare her.”
“Scare her? That kid’s not scared of anything! Not spiders, not the dark, and definitely not me.” Sheila’s voice rose even louder. “Chantelle, baby, it’s your momma. Come and say hi to momma!”
Emily heard footsteps from behind and swirled to look behind her. Luckily, it was Daniel who appeared in the doorway and not Chantelle. His face was filled with anger.
“Sheila, get out of here,” he barked, coming out onto the porch.
Sheila instantly tried to rearrange her face.
“Hi, Daniel, sugar,” she drawled. “I’m just here to see my daughter.”
Emily turned to Daniel, panicked. “She wants to take Chantelle back.”
Daniel raised his palms in a “calm down” gesture, as if trying to say he knew how to handle this. Emily backed off and let him take control of the situation. She stepped back to the doorway to create a barrier in case Chantelle was roused by the noise and came to see what was happening, and to be closer to her cell phone in case she needed to call the police.
Daniel was speaking calmly to Sheila on the porch.
“We talked about this, remember?” he said diplomatically. “You accepted that Chantelle would be better off here.”
“Well, I changed my mind,” Sheila spat, her face transforming back into that snarling beast. “I want her back. She’s mine.”
Daniel remained as calm as ever. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?” Sheila cried. “She’s MY baby.”
“That’s not enough,” Daniel said. “You couldn’t care for her. You accepted that.”
“You have no legal right to take her,” Sheila said.
Just then, she fell silent. Her gaze had traveled beyond Daniel to where Emily stood in the doorway of the inn. Emily spun, knowing there was only one thing that could tame the wild beast that was Sheila, realizing that the child must have crept silently along the hall. Standing behind her was Chantelle.
“Go back inside, sweetie,” Daniel said in a calm but hurried manner.
“My baby,” Shei
la stammered.
Chantelle stood there, still, as though assessing the scene ahead of her. For a moment she looked incredibly grown up, wise beyond her years. Then her face fell and she became a terrified child, confused, unable to process the situation.
“It’s okay,” Emily soothed.
Chantelle looked up at Emily with terror in her eyes. “Am I going back to Tennessee?” she babbled.
“Yes,” Sheila said, taking a step toward the girl.
She didn’t get far. Daniel stood his ground, becoming a statue of stone, a barrier that stopped Sheila from reaching Chantelle.
“Absolutely not,” Emily replied. She took Chantelle’s hand. “Not if you don’t want to.”
But a hand was clearly not enough comfort for the child. She clung to Emily, wrapping her small arms ferociously around her waist.
“Don’t make me go back,” she stammered.
Emily could feel her shaking. She looked up at Sheila, enraged.
“You need to leave,” she said. “You’re upsetting Chantelle.”
For the first time, there was a flicker of understanding in Sheila’s eyes. It was as if she could just make out, through her drug-induced haze, that the child was crying because of her, that she was clinging to a woman who was not her mother, seeking comfort from someone else that wasn’t her. She slackened, defeated. All the fight seeped out of her. She began to weep.
Daniel glanced at Emily, briefly, then scooped Sheila into his arms. It pained Emily to see them together like that, not just because they had once loved each other or because they had created a child together, but because of how far Sheila had fallen, how much she had lost. Sheila was crying and shaking so vigorously it was almost painful to watch. It looked more like a father comforting a child than anything else. In many ways, that’s what the drugs had made Sheila become: a terrified child confused by everything around her.