to accept no for an answer.
“Chantelle’s been making snowflake chain decorations,” she said. “They’re just bits of glitter paper really but she’s really proud and wants all the neighbors to have one. Okay if we come by and drop one off tomorrow?”
It was a sly trick, but Trevor fell for it.
“Well, I suppose we may as well have some tea and cake,” he said. “If you’re already coming around, that is.”
Emily smiled to herself. There were ways through Trevor’s armor, and she resolved then to visit her neighbor at the next available opportunity.
“Anyway, I was hoping to see you here,” Trevor said, taking her hand in his. He was so cold, Emily noted, and his skin had a clammy feel. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow. “I have something for you,” he continued.
“What’s that?” Emily asked as he produced a piece of paper from his pocket.
“Blueprints,” Trevor said. “Of your house. I was going through my attic, trying to get everything sorted for… well, you know what for.” His voice grew quiet. “I’m not sure how they got mixed up in my things but I thought you might want them. They were drawn up by your father and his attorney, you see, and I know how much you want things regarding your father.”
“I do,” Emily stammered, taking the paper from his hands.
She gazed down at the faded pencil drawing. They were architect’s plans. She gasped as she realized that the plans were for entire property, including the swimming pool in the outhouse, the one that Charlotte had drowned in. A lump formed in Emily’s throat. She folded the paper quickly and shoved it into her bag.
“Thank you, Trevor,” she said. “I’ll look at that later.”
They parted ways and Emily rejoined Daniel and Chantelle.
“What did Trevor want?” Daniel asked.
“Nothing,” Emily said, shaking her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about it yet; she was still reeling from the experience. The paper seemed to beckon to her in her bag. Could it be another piece of the puzzle that explained her father’s disappearance?
Just then, the countdown for the lights began. Emily’s mind swirled with memories of being here as a child, a preteen, a teenager. She seemed to pass through all those forgotten moments, year on year. Some contained Charlotte, alive and smiling, but many more did not; many were just her and her father, sinking more deeply into depression and distraction.
Then white lights burst from the tree and everyone began to whoop and cheer. Emily was pulled back into the present day, her heart racing.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, concerned. “You keep blacking out.”
Emily nodded to reassure him, but she was trembling. Her mind seemed frantic. All these memories were suddenly resurfacing and she wondered if they’d been triggered by the discovery that her father was indeed alive. It was as if her mind had decided that she could now reach back into the past and remember her father because she wouldn’t be consumed with grief in doing so. Perhaps, if Emily were patient enough, she’d recover a memory that would help her in her quest to find him, something that would tell her exactly where he was hiding.
Exhausted from their evening of fun, Emily and Daniel tucked Chantelle into bed as soon as they arrived home. Chantelle asked for a story to be read to her and Emily obliged. But once the story was over, Chantelle seemed pensive.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked.
“I was thinking about my mom,” Chantelle said.
“Oh.” Emily felt her stomach tighten at the thought of Sheila, back in Tennessee. “What about her, sweetie?”
Chantelle looked at Emily with her wide, blue eyes. “Will you protect me from her?”
Emily’s heart clenched. “Of course.”
“Promise,” Chantelle said in a desperate, pleading voice. “Promise me she won’t come back.”
Emily held her tight. She couldn’t promise because she didn’t know how the legal challenge to Sheila’s guardianship would go.
“I will do everything I possibly can,” Emily said, hoping her words would be enough to soothe the terrified child.
Chantelle lay back, her head on the pillow, blond hair splayed, and seemed to relax. A few moments later, she fell asleep.
Chantelle asking about her mom had awoken something in Emily. She and Patricia had spoken not that long ago when Emily had tried, and failed, to get her mother to join her in their Thanksgiving celebrations at the inn. Her mom refused to come and visit the house in Sunset Harbor; she viewed it as belonging to Roy, as a place she had been banished from. Even so, Emily thought, Patricia was still a part of her life. It was time to bite the bullet and tell her about the upcoming wedding.
Emily stood from Chantelle’s bed, wrapped herself in a shawl, and went out onto the porch. She sat on the swinging seat, tucked her legs beneath her, and took one look up at the shining moon and stars. Something in their twinkling light gave her courage. She scrolled through the contacts in her cell and dialed her mom’s number.
As always, Patricia answered the phone with a brusque, “Yes?”
“Mom,” Emily said, inhaling, trying to hold onto her courage. “I have something to tell you.”
There was little point in pretending to make polite conversation. Neither of them wanted that. May as well cut to the chase.
“Oh?” Patricia said flatly.
Emily had thrown a few curveballs her mom’s way over the last year, from upping and leaving her home in New York, breaking up with Ben after seven years together, running off to Sunset Harbor, opening a B&B, and falling so madly in love with Daniel that she’d agreed to help raise his child. Her mom had, unsurprisingly, disapproved of every single one of Emily’s choices. The chances of her accepting the engagement were slim to none.
“Daniel asked me to marry him,” Emily finally managed to say. “And I agreed.”
There was a pause, one that Emily had predicted. Her mom used silence like a weapon, always providing Emily with enough time to worry about the thoughts that were crossing her mind.
“And you’ve been dating this man for how long?” Patricia finally said.
“Coming up to a year now,” Emily replied.
“One year. When you have fifty or so to spend together.”
Emily let out a huge sigh. “I thought you’d be happy I was finally settling down. You always loved rubbing it in my face how long you’d been married by my age.” Emily could hear the tone of her voice and cringed. Why did her mom always bring out the belligerent child in her? Why did she care so much about getting her approval when Patricia herself seemed to care so little about her daughter?
“I suppose he needs a mother for that child of his,” Patricia said.
Emily spoke between her teeth. “Her name is Chantelle. And that’s not why he asked. He asked because he loves me. And I said yes because I love him. We want to spend forever together
