But Wren told her she couldn’t.“There’s too much happening here,” she said.
Celia ended the call by begging Wren to take care of herself.Wren hung up without saying she loved her.She barely said goodbye.
When Celia woke up the following morning, her mouth was dry, and her head ached, but the coffee in the kitchen was percolating.Sophie was up, dressed, and smiling a smile that meantI’m going to beat you at your own game, Mom.But instead, she said, “Good morning!”
“Good morning, honey,” Celia said.She searched her mind for an explanation, willing herself to explain.But she poured her coffee and read a newspaper instead, marveling yet again at how awful the current journalists were at telling essential stories.
My time is through, she reminded herself.
Celia and Sophie worked tirelessly at the inn all morning.They spoke only of logistics, which gave Celia a chilly feeling in her stomach.At one thirty, she went to the second suite upstairs to find Sophie removing rogue nails from the walls.She felt a surge of love for her daughter, who’d imagined a much glossier summer for herself than all this.Celia hadn’t experienced professional disappointment till she was in her late thirties.She couldn’t imagine what that might have done to her drive, to her sense of purpose.
“Should we get lunch?”Celia asked, hoping to fix the strange air between them.
“Sure.”Sophie wouldn’t look her in the eye.
Celia and Sophie walked three blocks to the downtown sandwich-and-soup shop.It was a rainy sixty-seven degrees, and clouds swirled close overhead, casting a teal tint to the shop windows.En route, they passed seven townspeople, most of whom greeted both Celia and Sophie by name.Sophie giggled nervously and said hello back before muttering to Celia, “Small towns are something else.It’s more like college than being in a big city.I mean, it must have been crazy to have everyone know you growing up.”
“Someone was always watching you,” Celia said darkly.
“Someone was always looking out for you,” Sophie corrected.
Celia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.She wasn’t sure if it was possible to ever bring Sophie into the madness of her past.She’d begun to think that Sophie blamed Celia for leaving Bluebell Cove and never returning.Nobody was here to back her up; nobody was here to tell her side of the story, save for herself.She wasn’t sure she had the strength.
At the little table in the sandwich shop, they studied their menus quietly before ordering a bowl of broccoli cheddar, a bowl of French onion, and two slices of rye bread.
“Thanks, girlies,” the server said, gathering their menus and returning with big glasses of ice water.Sophie drank half of hers in three gulps.
Just as Celia was trying to come up with something to say to Sophie, something to explain why she was acting so strange in Bluebell Cove, Sophie raised her chin and delivered some news that changed everything.“I’ve been talking to the editor of theBluebell Cove Gazette.”
Celia’s ears rang with surprise.“I beg your pardon?”
Sophie smiled brighter.She looked the way she had when she’d been four or five and taught herself how to ride a bike.“Bethany Everett?She’s the editor.She says she knows you?Or used to know you?Anyway, I reached out to her about any potential internship opportunities at the paper.You know, because I don’t want to lose my edge.I want to keep writing.She told me they don’t offer internships, but she’d be happy to hear any pitches I might have.Which means they want to pay me.”
Celia leaned back in her chair, her soup untouched.“Oh!”she said, realizing, with a lurch in her stomach, that her ex-friend Bethany was the editor of theBluebell Cove Gazette.Because Celia was currently an out-of-work journalist, Bethany was currently “winning” their long-standing competition.Not that Celia wasn’t happy for her, of course.
“I mean, can you believe that?I’m twenty, and she’s letting me pitch my own ideas,” Sophie said, her smile widening.“So I thought and thought and thought about it.Like, all night I was doing research about the area, and about the people from Bluebell Cove, and what makes this town tick, you know?Because you never told me anything about it.It’s been fascinating.”
Celia’s pulse fluttered in her throat.She couldn’t speak.
“And I realized that this new building, this luxury hotel?Down by the cove?Some people are not exactly happy about it being built,” Sophie said.“Apparently, it’s going to destroy the microbiome in the area.And think of the view from the back porch of the Bluebell Cove Inn!I mean, it’s going to be ruined.And right now it’s the prettiest view I’ve ever seen.”
Celia’s mind’s eye filled with a vision of Landon Brooks, chasing her after that strange and exhilarating day they’d spent together—a day that was lodged in her memories, a day that had frightened her because it had made her feel too close to something real.He’d asked her to write about the new Hanson Smith development; he’d asked her to use her talent for the good of the town.She’d felt frozen.Since then, Landon had contacted her twice via text message, apologizing that he’d gotten her number from her journalist website.Celia had responded to say she was “really busy,” but that she’d reach out to him soon.She hadn’t.
Landon seemed to know that she wanted him to stay away.
He seemed to understand that whatever had brewed between them that day was not something she wanted.She didn’t have time for nostalgia.She didn’t have time for romance.
It was something she’d given up on forever.
“I don’t know if you should dig around on that story, honestly,” Celia said tentatively.“I mean, the Hanson family, the family in charge of developing the luxury resort, isn’t one you should mess with.They’re powerful people.”
Sophie burst with laughter.“Mom, listen to yourself.In the past, you were the one who interviewed mega-billionaires about their companies’ oil spills, forest destruction, and whatever else.In your long and storied career, you never let anyone get the better of you.It’s why I wanted to become an environmental journalist in the first place.”She drew back, her eyes bugging out.“And anyway, I already pitched the idea to Bethany, and she loves it.I’m going to write it.”
Celia’s hands were clammy.She felt her daughter glaring at her and didn’t have the energy to meet her gaze.
“She put me in touch with a local marine biologist,” Sophie said.
Celia forced herself to raise her head.It could only be Landon.Clearly, he and Bethany were in touch.They’d both stayed in Bluebell Cove.They’d both maintained their optimism, their good hearts.“Have you already contacted him?”
