“I didn’t want your breakfast to get cold. I assumed since I have nearly adjusted, you would have too. I thought you’d be up by the time I got back with breakfast.”
She stares at me, still blocking her doorway.
“I brought eggs and scones.” She continues to stare.
“And lemon curd.”
The staring continues.
“And clotted cream.”
Her face doesn’t change, but she takes a step back. “Come in.”
“Still want to know about my parents?” she asks.
“I would, yes. Only anything you don’t mind sharing.” I peek at Ivy, all wrapped up in her blanket in my car, and I wish she could always be with me on adventures. I can’t help but think she would be an amazing partner for anything and everything.
“Do I seem like someone who would let you force me into sharing something I didn’t want to?” She grins over at me, andI laugh.
“Definitely not.”
She laughs. “Val and I never knew our father. To this day we don’t know who he is. Our mother would never talk about him. As a child, I used to imagine he was an incredible man, who somehow didn’t know we existed. You could believe that with one kid, but two?” She was shaking her head when I glanced in her direction. “Anyway, I would imagine he would come get Val and me. He would love us, and treat us well, and take me to snow tube on my birthday. That was a very specific dream. Birthdays were always a disappointment with mom.”
“Did she not care about your birthdays?”
“She didn’t really care about us in general.”
“That’s terribly sad.” As strict and formal as my parents could be, I always knew they loved me and that I was their priority. I can’t imagine growing up with a parent who didn’t care.
“Yeah, well, it just meant that I was the parent of our family. Outwardly, it seemed like we had a great mom. She dressed us up and paraded us around. She loved to brag about her beautiful daughters. But it was all for show. She ignored us at home, and only talked to us as much as she deemed necessary when she took us places. Which wasn’t often. Thankfully we lived in town, so Val and I would walk places just to get out. When I was old enough, I got a job so when I was sixteen, Icould buy a car.”
“What was your job?”
“I was a waitress. It’s where I fell in love with the restaurant business. There’s something extra special about it in a small town. I loved seeing the regulars. Remembering theirusuals. I had one woman who wrote a Bible verse on every receipt she signed. I started bringing a notebook with me to work to copy them into since the receipts had to stay with the restaurant. Her name is Fran Randolph and she always got the soup of the day. It didn’t matter what kind it was. And now she eats at my restaurant, and it’s always a treasure to come across one of her receipts.”
“Wow. That’s really special.” No wonder she doesn’t want to leave home. I turn on my indicator before turning into the car park nearest the cliffs.
“It is. I’ll be glad to see Fran when we get home.”
“And your mom? Is she still around?”
“She is, but we don’t see her. She seemed glad to see us go when the time came. Val’s building her own family, and I … well, I have my restaurant.”
That makes me unexpectedly sad. I wonder why she hasn’t married. Is she scared? She did say she has a hard time trusting. That makes a lot of sense now. Surely, she’s met enough people to show her that there are plenty of people who are trustworthy. Or what if she doesn’t feel like she deserves love? Maybelogically she knows that she does, but deep down her mum left scars.
I pull into one of the many open spots and decide against asking any of my burning questions. Not yet, anyway.
“You both came out of a bad situation and made something better with your lives. That’s admirable.”
She nods, seemingly lost in thought or memory—I’m not sure which. Either way, I feel the need to bring her back to the present.
“You ready to see the cliffs?”
Ivy has a death grip on my hand. We stand behind a fence at least five meters from the cliff’s edge.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“Yes.”
