Cami waited a few beats, but Marta didn’t respond. Okay, she was busy. But Cami would get an answer sooner or later.
The truth of the matter was, as the move to Indy became more of a reality, Cami was growing anxious. Yes, she was excited to head up an Akron expansion office, but she mourned leaving Nashville. She mourned leaving her sister and brother-in-law. Even mourned leaving Dad. How would the distance impact their relationship?
Mourned that she hadn’t gotten the inn. She’d called Annalise Monday evening to talk it out.
“I wasn’t sure how I felt about the inn until Ben said no. Then I was really disappointed.”
“You have a lot of Mom memories there. More than I do.”
“I felt close to her when I was there. I didn’t realize until now. I’m not sad about it being the place where she died; I’m excited to be on the grounds of the place she loved so much. She always wanted Dad to buy it.”
“Like the Carters would ever let it go.”
“I feel like I’ve let her down again.”
“Oh, Cami, no. She’d be so proud of you. Promise.”
“At least one parent is proud.” Cami had laughed and taken it back before Annalise could launch into her lecture of how Cami had Dad all wrong.
No, Annalise had Dad all wrong. At least when it came to Cami.
Heading to the car, Cami set her purse in the back seat. She could shop, see if there were any shoes needing a good home.
However, instead of heading to the Green Hills Mall, she hopped on I-440 to I-40 and aimed for Hearts Bend. A memory flashed of Mom taking her to Haven’s Bakery for hot donuts and hot chocolate. Sweet sugar, cinnamon, chocolate—she could practically smell the bakery in her car.
The moment she crossed under the Welcome to Hearts Bend sign, a weight lifted off her. Slowing down for the first of HB’s two stop lights, she opened the sunroof and decided on a quick stop at Java Jane’s.
What was Ben doing? Did he like iced latte? If not, she’d drink his.
Ten minutes later she pulled into the inn’s empty parking lot. The grounds were quiet as she headed toward the inn with a Java Jane’s caddy. Where were the guests?
The lobby was equally as barren as the lot except for Bart, who click-clacked his way toward her, tail wagging.
“Hey, buddy, did they leave you to man the front desk?” The dog wagged his tail faster as she ran her hand over his head and around his ears. “Ben? Myrtle May?”
The silence of the lobby surrounded her. The midday sunlight splashed through the windows and across the hardwood, playing peek-a-boo with the few clouds in the sky. Suddenly the light shifted as a cloud blocked the sun. A shadow mysteriously crept up the wall to Mom’s pastoral painting.
Cami stepped closer, memories, feelings stirring, knocking, demanding her attention.
For a moment, she lived in the serene scene, young, innocent, full of hope, in the arms of a man she loved.
Mom’s expert brushstrokes were thick and bold in the field and trees, yet delicate and light for the couple sitting on the bench.
An artist’s brushstroke distinguished her, like her handwriting or the sound of her voice. Mom’s brush showed her confidence. Her ability to love and… Cami lightly touched the head of the couple. Forgive.
She battled a hot flash of tears just as a crash came from the kitchen. Raised voices followed. Bart curled in his bed with a bark.
“Listen here, Walt. I said there was no reason to take offense. I’m just saying, no one wants onions for breakfast.”
“Who says? I love onions in my omelets and my tuna.”
“Do you now? I suppose that’s why you ain’t been kissed since Reagan was president.”
“Listen here, woman?—”
Cami checked her laugh as Myrtle May burst through the kitchen door wearing a red top with yellow sequins in the shape of sunflowers, purple slacks, and brown, sensible sandals. Bart bounded from the bed to greet her by burying his nose against her leg.
“Cami, goodness, when did you arrive?” Myrtle May pressed her hand to her chest, a bit flustered, then took her chair at the desk.
