I loaded my finished products into the welcome basket Grace had left me, then carried it to town. Amherst was a kaleidoscope of fall colors, cheery voices, and laughter. Shops had set up pumpkin and gourd displays in their windows and at their doors. Scarecrows and hay bales adorned every flower bed along the main drag. October was coming, and this town was ready.
I adored slipping in and out of the familiar shops and making small talk with new friends. I ran into Daisy shopping at an adorable boutique, and she invited me out after our next letter-writing class. I didn’t see Paul, but he’d given me a letter at the end of each class.
I nibbled on apple pie biscotti and enjoyed my coffee all the way home. I was putting myself out there, and the effort was paying off in fantastically social ways.
Emily Dickinson once wrote that fortune came to those bold enough to go after it. And as usual, she was right. I liked that Cecily had called me brave. I was taking steps in the right direction.
When I reached the lane to Hearthstone Manor, I collected the letters from my mailbox, then climbed the steps to Village Books and took a seat on the rocking chair outside the door. I loved this end-of-day ritual. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my mom, who insisted on a proof-of-life call daily.
All the time spent at Rini Reads during my absence had helped my parents see how much had changed since I’d taken over. And it’d given them a realistic perspective on how badly we needed to hire some part-time help. Yesterday Mom even admitted to understanding why I’d wanted the time off.
Neither of us broached the subject of their retirement. But at least she’d stopped asking me to come home.
I tucked one foot beneath me on the rocker. Village Books would close soon, but I’d learned from previous evenings spent this way that Grace never left at closing time. She stayed late to prep for the next day. A practice I embraced as well.
The setting sun backdropped the distant downtown and the leafy trees, lighting them on fire as I waited for my call to connect. Curlicues of smoke rose from nearby chimneys, and the faint beat of the UMass marching band made me smile. I’d miss tonight’s game because I didn’t have a ticket or the internet, but I didn’t mind. In moments like these, though I was technically alone, I didn’t feel lonely at all. I certainly didn’t feel as if I were missing out on anything.
I felt like one little piece of something much bigger. I was someone who delivered appreciation muffins to members of the community, many of whom were beginning to recognize and greet me by name. It was both strange and wonderful to think I could belong to a new place in barely more than a week. And it inspired me to get out of the bookstore back home and make more connections there too.
“Hello, Emma.” Mom’s chipper voice sprang through the line, bringing my thoughts back to her. “I’ve been looking forward to your call. I love hearing about your adventures. I only hate that we never talked this much when you were here.”
My spine stiffened at her words, which sounded like a complaint. Part of me wanted to point out how little time I’d had in Willow Bend to make calls or do anything outside of work. But I kept those thoughts to myself because another part of me wondered if it wasn’t just about my long hours.
I hadn’t called or reached out to her or Dad very often before leaving town. I’d shown up for Saturday-night dinners, but otherwise waited for my family to come to me at the bookstore. Whenever they hadn’t, I’d added it to my list of reasons to be upset with them.
The realization was a little startling. So instead of trying to defend my behavior by complaining about hers, I simply said, “Me too. I look forward to calling.”
She sighed, and the amount of evident relief and love in that breath pinched my heart. “I love you, sweet girl. Are you having fun?”
“I am.” I told her about my day and all the things on my mind. Then we laughed over the ridiculous but infuriating bunny who’d hit the jackpot when I arrived.
Mom told me about her day too. She and Dad were catching on to my new, streamlined systems at the store. She liked some, and hated others, but they saw that the revised processes worked.
When I asked about Annie, Mom told me to call her.
After saying goodbye, I sent Annie a text. Like the nightly messages I’d sent before, this one was quickly marked as delivered, then read.Then ignored. This time, I sent a follow-up, making sure she knew I loved and missed her.
Next, I got comfy and opened my newest letter from Cecily.
Dearest Emma,
Amherst sounds adorable. I can’t wait to get some time off so I can visit. The ER was infuriatingly slow today, which is nice for everyone who isn’t in need of emergency medical attention, but it’s been a bummer for me, personally. I can’t help people if they insist on being safe and healthy.
I laughed. “How completely ridiculous of them.”
I’d filled Cecily in on the details of my daily routines in my last letter, emphasizing how I’d doubled down on my stance against finding love. Then I’d complained a little about Annie.
Some days I’m completely brokenhearted by her,I’d written.And other days I wake up thinking I should drive back to Willow Bend and pull her hair.
Her response and reference to my complaint about Annie surprised me.
I miss your contagious energy,she’d written.There are only ever two options with you. And both are extreme.
I stared at the words a long moment before reading on. Cecily thought I was being dramatic.
Just like Annie.
My sister’s words returned like a slap in the face.
