“I didn’t want you to stop loving me.”
“Oh, honey.” Aunt Emeline took her hand. “I would never have stopped loving you.”
When she started coughing, Isabelle reached for the syrup on the nightstand. “You need more medicine.”
Aunt Emeline shook her head, the wisps of white hair sweeping across her face. Isabelle brushed them away.
“I don’t want to sleep now. I want to talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Isabelle asked.
“I heard a woman showed up at the hotel a few months ago, asking for Ross.”
Isabelle’s chest clenched, her fingers curling tightly around the glass bottle. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aunt Emeline said. “Is he really married to someone else?”
“I’m afraid it’s true, though he hasn’t come back yet from the fields to confirm it.”
Aunt Emeline looked over at the picture of her husband before she continued. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Isabelle placed the medicine bottle back on the stand. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I pray, child. Not worry.”
Her aunt seemed fully coherent now. Alive. Perhaps the doctor was wrong. Perhaps all she needed was this medicine and some rest to recover from whatever it was that ailed her.
“I want you to find a man you can trust, Isabelle. Someone who will cherish you for a lifetime, like my William did with me.”
Isabelle’s eyes wet with tears again. “I’m afraid there was only one William Labrie.”
“There is a man out there who will fit perfectly with you. A man who will think you are much more valuable than any nugget of gold.”
Isabelle leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I can’t bear to lose you.”
“This is only a temporary good-bye. Not forever.”
Isabelle hated good-byes, no matter how temporary.
“After I’m gone,” her aunt continued, her voice stronger now, “I’m giving this house to Nicolas and Sing Ye.”
“Of course.”
“Everything else I have is yours.”
Isabelle shook her head. “You’ve already given me enough.”
“Judah Fallow has all my legal papers,” Aunt Emeline said. “I’ve transferred the hotel into your name, and you will be an honored guest in the cottage with Nicolas and Sing Ye whenever you want to come.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
“I still need to give you your Christmas gift.” Aunt Emeline tried to push herself up with her elbows. “I should have given it to you a long time ago.”
“Where is it?” Isabelle asked, gently placing her hand on her aunt’s shoulder to stop her from rising any farther.
Aunt Emeline pointed her finger toward the cypress writing desk. “In the second drawer.”
She pulled out the deep drawer and found a quill and inkwell inside. “What am I looking for?”
