‘That, and the fact that I was invited to visit the new hotel in the city. Have you heard about the new Nordic Hotel Group place down by the water? I believe it’s almost complete.’
‘Of course I’ve heard of it! It’s all anyone in the city has been talking about,’ she said. ‘I’ve also heard about the restaurant. It seems no expense was spared on the head chef.’
‘Well, apparently it wasn’t enough for him to behave,’ Charlotte said as they arrived at the luggage carousel. ‘Because I hear the chef had an argument with the CEO of the hotel group, and he fired him just last week. But it’s the CEO I’m meeting with, and he seems very reasonable, certainly someone I could work with.’
‘You know,’ her grandmother said, affectionately patting her hand, ‘whatever brought you home, I’m just grateful to have you here. You get more and more beautiful every time I see you.’
Charlotte let go of her grandmother only to retrieve her suitcase, and then they walked side by side through the terminal to the parking area. It wasn’t until they finally reached the car and were seated that her grandma turned to her, a sparkle in her eye as she held out her hand, palm up.
‘Show me this box,’ she said. ‘When I told you the curiosity was killing me, I wasn’t exaggerating.’
Charlotte reached into her handbag and took the box out. She’d carried it with her for fear of losing it—suddenly the little wooden box had seemed more important to her than even her chef’s knives, which she’d packed carefully into her check-in luggage.
She watched her grandmother’s face as she passed it to her, saw the way her eyes widened once it was in her hands. Charlotte had loosely tied the string again so that the experience was the same as when she’d first untied it, and her grandmother opened it so carefully, taking back the lid and finding the diamond ring just as she had only two days earlier.
‘It’s so small.’
‘I know. I could only fit it on my little finger.’
Her grandmother’s gasp when she unfolded the photo made Charlotte reach out to her, her hand on her shoulder as she saw the tears glisten in her eyes. When she looked up, Charlotte wasn’t sure if she saw pain or hope in her expression, or maybe both.
‘I thought this must have all been a misunderstanding, that you were getting carried away thinking you recognised the woman in the photo, but this?’ She pointed to the young woman in the image. ‘Even without her name being printed on the back of it, I’d have known it was her.’
‘So, what do you think this all means?’ Charlotte asked, as her grandmother held up the emblem and considered it, before putting it back in the box and studying the photograph again.
‘I think that there’s something in the past that’s been kept hidden from me, and that at one point in time, my mother wanted me to find out what that secret was.’
Charlotte found herself nodding. ‘But what would have made her change her mind? And if she’s your biological mother, then what was she doing leaving clues for you at a house for unmarried mothers? None of it makes sense.’
Her grandmother passed the box back to her after carefully placing the ring back inside, before starting the car.
‘There’s only one person who can answer our questions, and that’s my mother. Do you have anywhere to be today?’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, I don’t have my appointment at the hotel until tomorrow.’
‘Good, because we’re going to see Amalie now, before it’s too late.’
5
Charlotte followed her grandmother into the reception area of the private hospice facility, before being guided to her great-grandmother, Amalie’s, room. Although the interior had been created to look as light and airy as possible, it still sent a shiver down her spine being there—every room contained someone near the end of their life, and it was yet another reminder of how long she’d been away from home, how many years had passed and how much older her grandmother and great-grandmother were.
‘She’s been sleeping most of the day, but I know she’s always more lucid when she hears your voice,’ the nurse said as she gestured for them to enter. ‘I’ll be in to check on her again soon, but I’m certain she’ll be pleased to see you.’
Charlotte wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the room felt nothing at all like a hospital and very much like a personal bedroom within a home. The curtains were open to let the light in, there was a vase full of fresh flowers on the bedside table, and her grandmother’s touch was all over the bed linen. It was white with intricate blue flowers printed on it, a cashmere blanket folded on the armchair that faced the bed, and the openshelves held books and more blankets, as well as a lamp that cast additional light through the room.
‘It’s beautiful in here,’ Charlotte said. ‘You’ve made it feel like her home.’
‘She’s such a proud woman. She hated the fuss of someone else doing all this for her, but I wanted to make it feel as comfortable as possible. It was the least I could do. Once you’re this old, beautiful surroundings are all you have left.’
‘I remember how much she loved reading,’ Charlotte said, stepping forwards and reaching for the book beside the bed. She grinned. ‘ButBridgerton?’
Now it was her grandmother laughing. ‘I’m the one reading to her every evening, it’s usually when she’s her most alert, and she seems to enjoy it. I thought we could both do with a little romance.’
Her grandmother sat on the bed then, and Charlotte took the armchair, watching as her grandmother gently took Amalie’s hand, stroking it as she spoke. It was hard seeing a woman who’d once been so vibrant, now so frail. Amalie’s skin was paper-thin, her hair wispy and white around her face, her cheeks hollow. It was also scary for Charlotte because it reminded her that her own grandmother might reside in a place like this one day in the not-so-distant future.
‘Mother, Charlotte’s here with me. Can you hear me?’
Charlotte leaned forwards as Amalie’s eyes fluttered open, as her grandmother offered her water and then carefully stroked her cheek as one might a very young child. She found herself having to glance away, tears pricking her eyes at the tender display between mother and daughter. When her own mother had left when she was ten, she’d asked her father over and over again how she could have just walked out on them like that. And now, it made those questions come back, made her ask all overagain how a mother could ever just leave her child’s life without warning, especially after everything they’d all been through.
