We spend three hours in the hospital where it’s determined that Aarabelle has broken her leg that will require surgery and a concussion. I call Thea to give her the update. She inhales deeply and then lets it out.
“Okay, you have to go.”
“What?” I ask, unsure what she’s referring to.
“Well, Aarabelle can’t travel, and we really need someone on the ground in Ember Falls. You go down there, handle the situation, and then come back.”
I blink, my heart beating so hard as reality hits me. This is it. My big break. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words since…you know…Aarabelledidbreak her leg, but this is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“Are you sure, Thea?” I ask.
“Are you saying you can’t do it?”
“No!” I say a little too aggressively. “I mean…no, I can handle it.”
“Good, then that’s what you’ll do. Go pack a bag and get to Ember Falls. We’ll email you all the details before your meeting tomorrow.”
Ember Falls is a tiny little town out in the western part of Virginia. It reminds me so much of my small town in Indiana. The streets are wide and homes are speckled around the countryside. More than anything, it’s the smell of the air.
It’s like a fresh breeze on a warm day. A mix of pollen, some animal scents, but mostly trees and sunshine.
After I left the hospital, I headed straight home, packed a bag, and got on the plane. I landed in Virginia, rented the car and made the four-hour drive to Ember Falls, yawning the entire time. I made arrangements for Aarabelle to stay in a room above a store. I call ahead to explain I’ll be coming instead, but that only makes the woman who owns the place even more confused. As I hang up, I take a deep breath and assure myself I’ll sort it out once I get there.
I enter Ember Falls through the Main Street area and I can’t help but think how absolutely picturesque it is. There is a coffee shop, a pizza place, ice cream shop, and a bar and grill at the end of the street. It literally looks like something off a postcard.
I find a parking spot outside of the antique store that I’m renting the room from, park, and head inside.
“Hello?” I call out, standing at the front desk of the store.
“Hello?”
I peak my head around the side of the back wall. “Yes, is Miss Thornberry here?” I ask.
“Who?” The elderly voice replies from a distance.
“Miss Thornberry?”
“Yes.”
Yes, it’s her? Or yes, she’s here? “I’m Tessa Rivers. My co-worker, Aarabelle Dempsey, reserved a room.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know an Aarabelle.”
Of course not. “No, I know that,” I say quickly, trying to move around the store that is almost impossible to navigate. There are things everywhere. Furniture, knickknacks, stacks of old books, picture frames hanging off the furniture. It’s a maze. “Aarabelle is the name that room is rented under.”
“You want a room? I’m sorry, I rented it already.”
I clear my throat. “Miss Thornberry? Can you come out here?”
I have finally reached the point of no return in this store.
She sighs heavily, and the most adorable woman—who reminds me of my grandma— comes out to the front. Her gray hair is cut short with big curls, exactly like Granny had hers done at the beauty parlor—as she called it—every week.
“Oh, hello, I’m Mrs. Thornberry.”
I flash my winning smile. “Hello, I’m Tessa. My co-worker, Aarabelle, rented your room earlier this morning. She got injured and I’m here instead. I called to explain, but I think our connection was bad.”
Her eyes flash with recognition. “I see, and you’re staying for a week?”
