She felt ready. For what, she couldn't say other than a new adventure and to take some slip of control back.
"Okay. I'll take over end of this week. Running a historic inn. Which I don't know how to do."
"Oh, silly details," Mrs. Ling said with a wave of her hand.
Pretty important details came to mind, like managing money and occupancy, but sure.
"I have so many questions," Tilly started, but Mrs. Ling stood and waved her out of the kitchen, through the dingy white swinging door and down the hallway, where she stopped. There in the corner by the closet under the stairs stood a clock made of the most beautiful wood she had ever seen. It was pale with dark rings throughout the body, sanded, stained, and protected with a shine. It was smaller than some grandfather clocks she had seen, but it was the perfect size for this hallway, with the herringbone brick underneath its ornate feet that looked like twisted tree branches.
"This grandfather clock is beautiful," she murmured, peering up into its window and frowning when she didn't find a typical clock face. It had symbols and the cycles of the moon.
"Oh, that's not a grandfather clock, dear. It's a grandmother clock."
She turned to look at her. "A what?"
"A grandmother clock. They're not very common."
She frowned again, looking at the gold face with its intricate symbols. It looked familiar. Then she realized it had rung not on the hour as she looked at her phone. "It keeps odd time," she remarked.
"Grandfather clocks keep time. Grandmother clocks keep purpose."
She stepped back from the peculiar piece and opened her mouth to ask a myriad of questions when Mrs. Ling smiled and said, "There are many questions you have, I know. Some of them are interesting, like that clock, and some of them are less interesting, like how to check in a guest. But you will figure it all out." She reached out and gently took Tilly's hands into hers. They felt fragile, thin, the skin like it would crumple like paper if she pressed too hard. "You have the right people in your life to help, and it's time for you to take this all on and get to the meat of your story."
"I'm a little freaked out," Tilly whispered, the honesty pulling Mrs. Ling's mouth up into a wide smile.
"Good. What an excellent place to learn about yourself."
"This is all very weird," she replied.Mrs. Ling tilted her head, her dark eyes roving over Tilly's face with the smallest knowing smile on her mouth. Both of her hands delicately braced Tilly's bare shoulders, and a feeling blanketed Tilly as Mrs. Ling said, "Is it? Or are you feeling at home and safe and the tiniest bit excited and ready?"
She was. She felt all of those things. How did she know?
She felt warm. Good warm. The kind that comes from the inside.
What was happening?
"Now, I will see you out, as you have much to do, I am sure, to get ready for this new adventure. So lovely seeing you, dear."
And then she was on the wide front porch looking out over the idyllic street, the lavender door closed on her, and a moment of bursting fear popped like kernels inside of her.
"What...have I done?"
Bess closed her locker. Metal clanging against metal would be a sound of her high school days forever imprinted on her. Summer school had been her idea. She'd wanted to do three honors courses for college credit, unsure of what she wanted to do with her life, but she still knew she wanted to hold a degree or two. Or four.
After her last class, she was looking at her planner. She kept a physical planner decorated with doodles and stickers that looked like Halloween had taken parental rights over every season. She liked the tangible hold of it in her hands, something she could flip through. Tonight they had no plans, and she wasn't working.
Suddenly, her planner and the rest of her books went flying as she was slammed into from the side. Disoriented and annoyed, she looked to see who the offender was, but he was immediately bent to the ground, picking up her things. A dark head lifted until he stood tall and held out the stack to her.
His light blue eyes were shocking, especially as they never looked her way. Jeremy Bracker was one of the greatest cliches a high school needed to survive: the handsome jock that people blindly worship. She'd been in school with him for as long as she could remember. Multiple classes and minimal conversation.
"Sorry about that," he said easily. He gave her a conciliatory smile before he was off down the hall.
"Bess!"
She saw her friend Chloe walking toward her. She had curly blonde hair that she kept cropped just below her ears, giving hera childlike look. They became friends a few years ago in a class Bess couldn't recall, but it was an easy friendship. Nothing deep, but nothing serious or stressful.
"Friends with Jeremy Bracker now?"
"No, he knocked down my books."
