Dad’s lips pulled down and my mom bounced between excitement at me working with a woman and chastisement. I could tell she wasn’t sure which to express first. “What do you mean by tricking her? And what’s this about Raymond & Johnson Law?” She looked at dad, who shook his head no.
“Let him find his path, Emily.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, I got it figured out, promise.” I wasn’t sure if I said that for my benefit or theirs. “Really, it’s not a big deal.”
James threw open the door and saved me from continuing the conversation.
“I’m so hungry, Mama Elliot!” He smiled widely.
Mom grinned and gave him a hug. “Well then, let’s eat.”
Chapter Twelve
MARISSA
I metCarol at her house for breakfast. She always made the best chocolate chip pancakes, which I had more than a few times with my parents before the accident. I had come to the B&B very rarely since. I asked Carol to meet at Merritt’s, but she insisted it be here. If I was going to help with the trunk-or-treat, I would need to stop avoiding it sometime.
A lot of it looked the same from my memories. Broken cabinets and mismatched dishes. Then there was the wall full of pictures from community events. I picked a chair with my back to the wall and eased into the old wooden furniture. “You didn’t need to make me breakfast with your ankle hurt.” I frowned. I had come over to talk about the trunk-or-treat, but she had already finished making them. “If I knew you were going to do that, I would’ve shown up earlier and made them for you.”
Carol grimaced. “My ankle already hurts. I don’t need a trip to the dentist too.” The memory of us playing frisbee with my burnt pancakes when I was seven resurfaced.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed two pancakes from the plate anddrizzled them with her homemade vanilla maple syrup. They melted in my mouth and left my tongue coated in butter and sugar.
“I know you are trying to butter me up.” I grinned at my joke. “Literally with this trunk-or-treat thing . . .” I took a bite and closed my eyes, enjoying the soft fluffy goodness.
“Yes, I could really use your help.” Carol was a spitfire; I would give her that. The last few years had taken a toll on her. But no one matched her energy at being loyal or stubborn.
“I know this place has a few hard memories for you, but it had good ones too. I wanted to start off as happy as possible.”
The sweet, sticky syrup must be coating my throat because I couldn’t swallow. I coughed and reached for a glass of water.
“So . . . about the trunk-or-treat.”
I was avoiding the subject and Carol knew it but didn’t press.
"Are you sure you can’t get someone else to run it?” I took another bite. “Plans aren’t my thing. Besides, I was hoping to go to London soon.” I know Scott said he would help me, but I would still feel better on the sidelines. Or not here at all. My stomach felt all queasy and my hands were clammy. I didn’t like being in this kitchen. I could still picture my mom gossiping and laughing with Carol at this table.
“Run to London, you mean?” Her mouth pulled down into a frown.
I set my fork down on the plate with the chipped light purple edge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I know you, girl. You talk about leaving anytime anyone brings up the accident or commitment, but no.” She folded her arms in a challenge. “There is no one else. I need your help this year.”
I stabbed another piece of pancake and dragged it around in the syrup. Wanting a new start wasn’t the same as running. Right?
“What if I helped on the committee?” I had no interest in heading up the whole thing. Way too much pressure.
Carol shook her head no. “Mar, you can do this. I know you can.” She leaned forward and patted my hand. “Besides, I have several committee members already lined up. Granted, I need a few more. Please Mar, I need your help, just this once. Then if London is what you want, by all means, go for it. I won’t ask you to stay again.”
I eyed her ankle. She had tried to get me to run the B&B for the last three years. Did she actually roll it?
Carol sighed exasperatedly and pulled up her khakis to show me her bruised ankle. It was swollen and slightly purple.
“Yikes. Did you get it checked out?” I licked the syrup off my thumb.
“Yeah, just sprained. Doug said ice and elevate.”
I nodded and took another bite. What could it hurt? Even if it went bad, I would leave soon, so no one could stay mad about it for very long. I would need his help, but he seemed more than willing as long as . . .
