It felt good to let it out, though, and Ivy’s quiet attentiveness made it easier than I expected. Despite the embarrassment, it was comforting to finally have someone who listened.
Ivy smiled warmly, her understanding evident. “It’s okay. Everyone needs to let it out sometimes, and I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to share with me.” She paused, as if considering her next words carefully. “Iget that it’s scary, but I believe everything happens for a reason. You’re here in Hallow’s End now, and maybe that’s exactly what you need, to figure things out. The scariest paths often lead to the most beautiful destinations. Change is frightening, but it’s the only way to grow. Sometimes, the things we fear most are the very things that lead us to where we’re meant to be.”
“Thanks, Ivy. I really appreciate you saying that. It’s nice to feel like I’ve already got a friend here.” I smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. For someone so whimsical and dreamy, she had an uncanny ability to say exactly what I needed to hear.
Just then, Emily arrived with our orders. She placed a steaming bowl of creamy tomato basil soup in front of Ivy, its rich aroma mingling with the scent of the freshly baked breadsticks on the side. In front of me, Emily placed a vibrant autumn salad, which featured a mix of crisp greens, roasted butternut squash, tangy feta cheese, and dried cranberries. Thin slices of ripe pear added a touch of sweetness, while a light balsamic vinaigrette tied everything together.
The arrival of the food provided a welcome break from the heavy conversation, allowing us to savor the simple pleasure of a good meal and, throughout lunch, Ivy and I chatted about the town, and the gallery space. Our conversation left me with much to consider. After we finished our meal, my mind continued to churn with thoughts of the gallery, and the possibilities it held. I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope.
Chapter 4
RAIN DRUMMED SOFTLY against the windows, filling the cottage with a soothing rhythm. After putting away groceries from a quick shopping trip to Maple & Spice Grocery—the quaint store I had noticed earlier in town—I felt a sense of settling in. Ivy had mentioned it was the best spot for all the essentials, unless I wanted to drive out of town for a bigger selection.
Tonight’s town meeting lingered in my thoughts. Ivy had assured me it was a good way to connect with the locals and show interest in the community, but I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. The idea of walking into a room full of strangers felt awkward. It was an opportunity to fit in, but the thought of being the outsider was daunting.
Just as I settled in, the shrill ring of my phone shattered the peace, and seeing MOM flash on the screen sent a wave of anxiety through me. Having already ignored a few of her calls, I knew avoidance couldn’t lastforever. Taking a deep breath, and bracing for the inevitable conversation, I answered.
Ignoring my greeting, her voice came through the line, tinged with irritation. “You arrived yesterday and haven’t called yet. Why do I have to chase you down just to hear how you’re doing?”
I winced at her tone. “Sorry, Mom. It’s been a busy day getting settled in, and unpacking. I was going to call you tonight. Everything’s fine, really.”
My mother’s exasperated sigh was audible. “Your father and I agreed to this little country escape, and are even paying for it. The least you could do is call, or at leasttextus, when you arrive. It only takes a moment.” I bit my lip, knowing full well that, with my mother, it never just took a moment. A quick call could easily turn into a lengthy interrogation about every detail of my day.
She continued, her voice sharp with concern, “For all we knew, you could’ve been dead in some run-down town in the middle of nowhere!”
“Mom, you’re being paranoid. I’m fine,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. “This place is actually really nice, and I feel safer here than I did in Cresden. The biggest threat here is probably the raccoons raiding the trash bins.”
There was a brief pause, followed by a gasp of disbelief. “Raccoons? Oh, Lavinia, that sounds dreadful! Why would you ever put yourself in such a situation? It’s bad enough you’re in the middle of nowhere, but dealing with wild animals is just . . . ugh.” Her voice was laced with horror and disapproval.
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, it’s not as dramatic as you’re making it out to be. The raccoons aren’t a big deal.”
As I tried to reassure her, I heard faint voices in the background on her end of the line. A familiar greeting from the staff at Serenity Spa filtered through. “Welcome back, Mrs Carlisle. Your usual, I presume?” She alwayswent to that place once a week, more for the socializing and gossip than actual relaxation.
My mother sighed, the impatience clear in her voice. “Give me a second, darling,” she said, muffling the phone, but not quite enough to hide her conversation.
I could hear her addressing the staff, her tone clipped. “After so many years of coming here, you’d think they’d get it right by now. It’s not that complicated.” Her irritation made it clear that something had gone awry with her appointment.
Sensing an opportunity to end the call, I said, “I can tell you’re busy, Mom. We can catch up another time.”
But she wasn’t having it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lavinia. We haven’t even talked properly yet.”
I hesitated, “Are phones even allowed inside a spa?”
She laughed dismissively. “Please, I pay them well enough. Those rules don’t apply to me.” Her tone exuded nonchalance and entitlement.
I cringed internally, uncomfortable with her attitude. I had never been like her in that regard, and moments like this reminded me just how different we were. But I knew better than to argue. It wouldn’t change anything, and it would only lead to more tension.
As the conversation continued, my mother’s voice took on a more eager tone. “When you come back, I was thinking we could go shopping. You need some new business attire for your first day at your father’s company.”
The thought of shopping with her made my stomach twist. She always criticized my choices, insisting on outfits that never felt like me. Spending that much time under her scrutiny was unbearable. I tried to deflect, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. “I have enough clothes as it is, Mom. We don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense,” she replied dismissively. In the background, I could hear the clatter of lockers, and the soft chatter of people in the changing room. She continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “I was also thinking we could turn your studio into an office. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a proper workspace at home? That studio will be just a waste of space with how busy you’ll be with work, and the social calendar I’ve planned.”
Her words struck a nerve, and I couldn’t suppress a groan. The studio was the one place where I could escape the expectations and pressures they placed on me. The thought of it being repurposed into a sterile office, just another extension of their control, filled me with frustration. Yet, as much as I wanted to argue, I knew it would be futile. The conversation was a painful reminder of the life they had laid out for me, one that left little room for my own dreams.
I tried to interject, but my mother was already on a roll, outlining plans for when I returned. Her voice became a distant hum as my thoughts drifted back to the gallery space I’d seen today. That place filled me with hope and excitement. The idea of moving here, and opening an art gallery, felt so right, but I knew my parents would never approve. Being away for a few weeks was one thing, telling them I wanted to move herepermanentlyto start my own business would be a bloodbath.
As my mother continued, I caught a snippet about a Christmas gala she was planning, but I quickly tuned her out again. She enjoyed the sound of her own voice, often filling the silence with her plans and expectations, requiring little more than a passive listener. My thoughts drifted back to the gallery. I started to mentally calculate a rough estimate of the startup costs.
