Celia’s cheeks were inflamed.Sophie was too young to speak like this.
But all at once, they reached the turn-off for the Bluebell Cove Inn.Celia held her breath as they approached.When she cut the engine, she let her eyes drift over to Sophie, who looked captivated, with lips parted.Finally, she burst with, “This is your family’s inn?”Sophie tore from the rental car and hurried to the front porch.The wood groaned beneath her feet like a warning, but still she hurried inside, exclaiming with wonder.Celia followed her, catching sight of Ivy through Ivy’s kitchen window, watching her.What does she do all day?Celia wondered.Does she hate me so much that she can’t say hello?Does she hate me so much that she doesn’t want to meet my daughter?
Sophie’s excitement about the inn could not be contained.She wanted to hear every detail about the repairs and refurbishment, what each room had looked like before its closure, and Celia’s dreams for the next iteration of the inn.
“Well, it doesn’t matter to me what it looks like,” Celia said.“We’re only going to operate it for a year before we sell it off.But you’re right.It needs to look good if we’re going to turn a profit.”She laughed, hearing her father’s voice in her own.
“This is crazy.”Sophie touched the mahogany front desk and watched the oaks dance out the window.“And you can see all of the cove from here!”
Celia and Sophie stood at the back window to take in the turquoise shine of Bluebell Cove itself.This deep in May, the forest was especially lush and green, twisted up in its own mysteries.With a stab of horror, Celia realized that many of the animals and insects would soon perish in Hanson Smith’s building project.
“Is that a crane?”Sophie furrowed her brow and pointed at a spot of yellow against the cliffside.It looked ominous and was prepared to destroy.
Celia didn’t want to get into it.“They’re always building stuff up and tearing things down around here,” she said.“The tourists are coming fast.We’re lucky we don’t have to deal with them at the inn this summer.It’s just us and all these big, empty rooms.”
Sophie shifted away from the window and crossed her arms.“I can’t believe Aunt Wren and Aunt Juliet already left.”
“They’ll be back,” Celia said, although she wasn’t entirely sure if that was true.
“But Mom, this is exactly what you always said,” Sophie reminded her.“You said everyone always relied on you.You said it was so much pressure.”
“But I left.”Celia’s voice cracked.“I went off and built my own life.I met your father.I had you.”The story was much more complicated than that, but it was nothing she could currently face.
Sophie’s eyes flickered to the ground.Unlike other children with missing parents, Sophie didn’t often like to talk about her father, a man who’d come and gone like a season.Sophie had seen photographs of him and therefore knew that she had his forehead, sort of, but almost everything else belonged to Celia.Celia was grateful for this.She couldn’t imagine seeing Steven’s face every time she looked at her beloved child.
“What’s the plan for today?”Sophie asked, putting on a brave face for Celia.“What can I clean?What can I throw away?What can I do to help you?”
Celia confessed that she wanted to go through the inn’s attic today.“It’s a big job,” she said.“My dad kept all kinds of stuff up there.I don’t think anyone’s gone through it since 1977.”
Sophie giggled.Celia wondered what 1977 sounded like to her daughter.Probably somewhere between 100 and 1000 years ago.
They went to the third floor, then pulled the string that lowered the trapdoor.A set of stairs unfurled and dropped so that they could easily ascend.Celia went first, praying that the wood would hold them.They walked soundlessly into the attic.Up there, beneath layers of dust, were boxes upon boxes, unused furniture, old paintings that had previously hung in rooms of the inn, and an old rocking horse that Celia was pretty sure her father had used as a child.She didn’t think she and her sisters ever had.
Sophie whistled with wonder and brushed some dust off the box nearest her to read the label:Bills 1967.“Uh-oh,” she said.“We’re in over our heads.”
Celia laughed.“You really don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” Sophie said, pulling up her sleeves.“Let’s dig in.”
For a little while, it was fluid.Sophie and Celia went through old paperwork, threw what they could into trash bags, broke down old boxes, and discovered more and more of the floor beneath their feet.Two hours in, Celia suggested they order Chinese food from a place down the road, and Sophie agreed.“We’re going to need fuel for this.”Celia went downstairs to call them and was midway through detailing her order when Sophie cried out from upstairs.
Celia hung up the phone right away and raced to the attic, fearing the worst.Maybe Sophie’s legs had dropped through the floorboards.Perhaps she’d broken something.
But when Celia made her way upstairs again, she found Sophie bent over the wall in the far corner, where, it seemed, she’d discovered a little door, hidden behind a stack of boxes.“Mom!”she cried.“It’s a secret closet!In the attic!”
Celia remembered the old days when she and Sophie would read books in Sophie's or Celia’s bed, poring over secret societies, secret rooms, and fantastical stories that took them far away from their tiny apartment in Washington, DC.Being a single mother and an only child, they’d desperately needed those stories.But this was a closet in the Bluebell Cove Inn’s attic, which meant it contained nothing so marvelous.If anything, it contained more dust and terrible memories.
But Sophie was already opening it.From the shadows, she removed what appeared to be a wooden box, a handmade, delicate object.She blew on the top, and dust flew across the wall.“It has a name on it,” Sophie said.
Celia’s palms felt clammy.“What is it?”
“Margaret Harper,” Sophie said, blinking at her.“Who is that?”
Celia’s mother’s first and last names rang out across the boxes.Celia’s legs shivered with adrenaline.Sophie recognized that Celia was excited and overwhelmed, and it pushed her to do exactly what Celia didn’t want her to.
“Let’s open it,” she said.
“I don’t know, Soph.”Celia tried to make her voice flat and easy.“I think we should keep working.I mean, look at this place.It’s still filthy.”
