Every year their blueberry dinner got larger, until every seat around Jen's kitchen was filled and the overflow moved to the living room.
Today felt different. She was the one in charge of coordinating everything and there was an edge to the day.
The sun was covered by thick, grey clouds. The birds were quiet and the chill required a thicker jacket instead of the cardigan she'd hoped would suffice.
"I doubt you'll need all of the chairs and baskets you prepared for today," Freida said handing Tilly a notice that had tape on the top. "This was on the door when I came in. Maybe you should cancel." She didn't look at Tilly. Just handed the page to her as she so flippantly suggested canceling the inn's most iconic event.
On the page was a kind of manifesto about the town no longer supporting The Crescent Inn, stripping away its historical society standing as it did not align with the values of Salem. It was more than an unkind gesture as she needed that historical standing for funding particularly expensive, old repairs.
Freida was working an extra shift to help out with the festival as Tilly was planning on being outside all day. She'd suggestedthat she wear something blue, not forcing the subject when the woman gave her a look. And sure enough, she wasn't wearing blue.
Tilly wasn't sure why that hurt. Freida had been anything but an ally since she took over the inn. She'd been either avoidant or outright unkind. She made faces when Tilly gave her instructions that she ignored, blank expression without reciprocation when she was simply being friendly.
And now this was the thing that made Tilly truly feel dismissed after being made to feel disrespected.
She watched Freida in her white sweater, reading glasses hanging around her neck as she finished writing something in the planner on the desk before she picked up her paperback book.
The blueberry festival may not be as large this year. It may only be a few people and she may have too much food and too many chairs and baskets. But she stood in the foyer of the inn she had come to love, putting pieces of herself in each project she completed, healing with the house. She looked at Freida, who made coming to work less than pleasant. She held a letter in her hand, stripping her of Salem's support, and something shifted.
She was in the intricate crown molding she'd spent a week cutting and putting up in the living room. She was in the updated wallpaper whose installation had nearly given her a breakdown. She was in the freshly painted front porch and the new screens she'd learned how to replace.
And this inn was in her too. It had lovingly given her little notes over the weeks, with every project; words that had soothed an unsure soul and sanded over a rough start to a new life.
"Freida." Anxiety was rioting throughout her mind, telling her to just walk down the hall and leave well enough alone.
Well enough wasn't enough. She had worked hard, and she wanted good, brilliant, wonderful.
When Freida hummed without looking up at Tilly, simply turning the page of her book, the anxiety was quieted for a moment as something else took front and center: resolution.
"Freida," she said again, her voice calm and commanding.
Finally, the woman looked up and the annoyance on her face made Tilly smile; not her usual pleasing smile. This was a different smile. And Freida could tell.
The Grandmother clock chimed. The sound filled the beautiful foyer and slid around Tilly's ribcage in a gentle nudging. She saw a skeleton riding a horse, scythe in hand, roses around its neck, and a blood moon. The Death card.
Necessary endings. Transformation.
"Go ahead and grab your things," she said. When Freida frowned, Tilly's smile grew. "Thank you for all you've done at The Crescent Inn."
Freida's shoulders straightened, and she looked taken aback.
"Because really, while you have done a fine job as evening manager, what you have excelled at is being rude and unkind to me. Unwelcoming. I have tried," she said shaking her head, all of Freida's microaggressions flipping through her mind, now in front of her replaced with shock. "I have been nothing but respectful toward you and tried to accommodate your grouchy disposition that, as far as I can tell, has nothing to do with me. Maybe you don't like me." She shrugged.
Freida opened her mouth to say something but Tilly leaned her forearms on the front desk, making sure this time the woman looked her in the eyes. "But you don't know me. So you've made judgments and taken action based on nothing, which says more about you than me."
She straightened and softened her tight smile. "I am happy to write you a reference if you need. You did a great job with the inn. I just want to enjoy coming to work every day."
Tilly watched something flit through Freida's eyes, bright and fleeting.
She felt a few things from her - mostly anger and disbelief. But something else small and dark and lonely crouched somewhere inside of Freida that Tilly, like every woman she'd ever known, knew well. Shame. It was no large thing, and she wasn't sure Freida would ever take it to task and grow, but it was there.
Finally she nodded and stiffly gathered her things, reaching behind her to get her umbrella and raincoat. She paused, opened her mouth as she searched for words finding none she could let go of, closed her mouth and nodded one more time as she walked out of The Crescent Inn. The door clicked shut firmly behind her.
Tilly sagged back against the desk and let out a deep breath.
There was relief, of course. But there was something like disappointment ringing the relief so that she couldn't fully rest. First Fae and now Freida. She stared at the door where Freida had exited for a few more moments and then finally with a nod of her head she pushed off the desk and got to work.
She had a blueberry festival to set up.
