“So basically you’re saying I need to fix up an old house, start a business, and find myself,” Amy said with a giggle.
“And fall in love,” Emily added. “So you’ve ticked one box.”
Amy sighed. “I know. That just makes it harder. I don’t want to walk away from what I have with Harry but I just don’t know if I can be happy here.”
Emily reached across the table and held her friend’s hand. “Is this because of what happened with Fraser? I really don’t want that one bad experience to taint this. Because I’m sure you can tell it’s completely different. What you and Harry have is a thousand times better than what you and Fraser did.”
“Is it though?” Amy said with a strained voice. “At least Fraser and I were from the same worlds. We wanted similar things. Holidays and careers and property. Kids, but there’d be a nanny to help, obviously. Harry is the opposite of that. He’s … I don’t know. Rustic? He’s…”
“…he’s Sunset Harbor,” Emily said with a decisive nod. She knew exactly what Amy was getting at. “But need I remind you that Fraser was a cheat? Harry would never do that. He’s honest and kind and loyal. That’s what you get with a Sunset Harbor man.”
Joe arrived with their waffles and Emily’s coffee. The two friends hunkered down, continuing their conversation.
“The thing is,” Amy added, “you never had to worry about this stuff. Like, you and Daniel didn’t have to debate about long distance or who would move where. It was always going to be here. But Harry and I seem to talk about it endlessly. Could we be long distance? Can I really leave my life behind, my business, for a man? It’s against everything I stand for!”
Emily smiled and sighed. “Amy, is that really what’s holding you back? Or is it something else?”
Amy chewed her waffle slowly. “I honestly don’t know. I’m so on the fence.”
“Do you think you might just be scared?” Emily asked. “I know you don’t get scared, that you’re a confident, no-nonsense businesswoman, but is there just a small chance that perhaps you’re scared of the fact that Harry adores you and that he might be the One, and that if you move your life here and take that risk you might be happy?”
“I guess,” Amy said. “But it’s not happy I’m scared of. It’s content. It’s… bored.”
She looked at Emily apologetically. Emily knew Amy was suggesting that life in Sunset Harbor was boring, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t change it for the world. If this was boring she’d take it over exciting any day!
“Maybe I should go back to the city for a bit,” Amy said. “Clear my head. Check in with the business. Remind myself of my roots, you know?”
“If you think it will help,” Emily said. She forked some waffle and put it in her mouth. “Man, I haven’t been back to New York City in ages.”
Amy’s eyes widened then. “Oh my God! Come with me!”
Emily looked at her, surprised. “Um…”
“Please, Em,” Amy added. “We can have a long weekend together. I’ll throw you a layette shower, since the last shower was a bust.”
Emily blushed as she remembered how she’d awkwardly run out on the baby shower Amy had arranged for her. She couldn’t help but hesitate.
“Please, please, please,” Amy continued. “You deserve some time off. And the rush of the summer is over. I’m sure the inn can survive without you for a few days.” Amy snapped her fingers then. “And if we have the shower in New York City, your mom can come!”
Emily instantly recoiled. “Okay, now I definitely don’t want to come,” she said, remembering the huge fight she and Patricia had been in last time they spoke. Indeed, every time they spoke.
“Em,” Amy said with a maternal tone. “She’s about to become a grandmother for the first time. How long is this rift between you going to last?”
“Forever,” Emily said glumly. “You have met my mom, haven’t you?” she added wryly.
But as she thought it over, she realized there was one very important thing she needed to speak to her mom about, something that couldn’t be done over the phone. And that was Roy’s illness. She needed to know.
“Actually,” Emily said, “I am overdue a trip to New York City. Maybe my mom will be less of a handful in her own territory.”
Amy clapped her hands. “Really? This weekend?”
Emily shrugged. “I guess so.”
When was a good time to tell your mom her ex-husband was going to die? There didn’t seem like a solution to Emily, so the approaching weekend was as good a time as any.
Amy bounced up and down in her seat, excited. “This is going to be so much fun. I’m going to tell Harry.”
She grabbed her cell phone and punched in his number. At the same time, Emily’s cell began to ring.
She pulled it from her pocket and answered it at the same time as Amy. It really was like their old New York City days!
“Is this Mrs. Morey?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“It’s Miss Butler, Chantelle’s teacher. I’m sorry to disturb you but there’s been an incident. I think you should come in.”
Emily leaped up. “What kind? Is Chantelle okay? Is she hurt?”
“She’s fine,” Miss Butler replied. “It’s a behavioral incident.”
Emily frowned. What did that mean?
“I’m on my way,” she said, hanging up and slinging her cell into her purse.
Amy was chatting with Harry on the phone, but she looked up at Emily, using her amazing multitasking abilities to carry on a wordless conversation with her friend without missing a beat in her telephone call.
“Chantelle,” Emily mouthed. “School.” She mimed a driving motion. Daniel had the car so Amy was her only way of getting there.
Amy nodded and pointed at their waffles. They’d barely eaten them. But Emily shook her head. She had to go right now.
Without questioning her at all, Amy stood, collected her purse and, still chatting with Harry, headed out of the restaurant toward her car, Emily in tow.
As they went, Emily hoped everything worked out between Amy and Harry, because it was in moments like this one, when Daniel was busy and life had thrown a spanner in the work, when Emily needed her friends more than ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Amy drove Emily back to the school, Emily felt her nerves increasing. She hated it when Chantelle had a behavioral outburst because it felt like a step backward, and reminded her of the terrible start the girl had had to life, the scars that she still carried despite her happy demeanor.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Amy asked, glancing over at Emily’s pale face in the passenger seat.
Emily didn’t usually bite her nails but the anxiety was making her do so. “No, no, it’s probably best if it’s just me,” she said, feeling flustered, her face stiff with panic.
They reached the parking lot, now empty, and Amy swung into the closest space to the school doors. “Well, I’ll wait here and drive you home when you’re done.”
Emily already had a hand on the door handle, and she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer but I have no idea how long this will take.”
“How will you get home?”
“I’ll figure it out later. Back of Raj’s delivery truck? Handlebars of Cynthia’s bike?” She was cracking jokes, but only as a way to distract herself from her anguish.
Amy smiled tenderly. “Are you sure?”
“I promise,” Emily said, shoving the door open and quickly getting out.
She slammed her door shut and blew Amy a kiss before hurrying as fast as her pregnant belly would allow her up the stone steps. She pressed the intercom button and the receptionist answered, crackling out a greeting.
“Mrs. Morey,” Emily said into the silver speaker. “Chantelle’s mom.”
There was buzz. She heaved the door open and hurried to the desk. It was the same girl as last year, Emily realized, young, freckled, with a sweet smile that showed off a gap between her teeth.
“Hi, Emily,” the receptionist greeted her as she hurried in.
Emily realized – feeling a little distressed at the thought – that she was well known enough at the school for the receptionist to recognize her and remember her name.
“Here’s your visitor badge,” the girl added.
She handed the pass to Emily and Emily saw that she’d written her name in a red marker pen, in cursive, surrounding it with stars. It was a sweet gesture, but Emily was too flustered to appreciate it. Her focus was solely on Chantelle. But she did notice the girl’s name badge: Tilly. She made a point to commit it to memory so that at least the next time she saw the girl, hopefully in less stressful circumstances, she could be kinder.