Chapter 21
Emma leaned back in the wooden chair, the one with the faint chip in its spindle that had been there as long as she could remember. The kitchen still carried the warm smell of the roast chicken they had shared.
Her shoulders felt heavy with jet lag, her eyelids wanted to drift even though the clock on the wall said it was only half eight. None of that mattered. She was home.
She lifted the glass of red wine Natalie had poured, the liquid dark as peat in the low lamplight. Across the table Natalie looked softer tonight, hair loose around her shoulders, sleeves of her grey hoodie pushed up to her elbows. The sight of her still sent a quiet thrill through Emma’s chest.
They had cleared the plates together, shoulders brushing. Now the quiet between them felt full, comfortable in a way that made Emma’s tired heart unclench.
“So what did you get up to while I was gone?” Emma asked, voice low so it would not crack with the exhaustion pulling at her edges.
Natalie set her own glass down, fingers tracing the stem.
A small smile touched her mouth, the one that made the fine lines at the corners of her eyes deepen.
“Mostly working. Reading through the script again, making notes. Trying to decide how I want to approach different scenes.” She paused, gaze drifting toward the window where rain tapped steadily against the glass.
“And I took some time to go through Gran’s things.
Her bedroom mostly. It felt like the right moment. ”
Natalie stood then, the chair legs scraping gently against the stone floor. “Wait here.”
She disappeared up the stairs. Emma heard her footsteps overhead, the creak of floorboards.
Natalie returned a moment later carrying a thick stack of envelopes. She placed them on the table between them. Emma recognized her own handwriting on them.
“These are the letters you wrote to her,” Natalie said quietly. “She kept every one of them. I found them in her bedside drawer, all in order. But this one…” She slid a single envelope free from the stack. “This one is from her to me. I think you should read it.”
Emma’s fingers trembled as she took the envelope.
The paper was cool and heavier than she’d expected.
She glanced at Natalie, who nodded. Emma slid her thumb under the flap and pulled out the single sheet.
The handwriting blurred before she recognized Bridget’s script.
She had to blink back tears as she read the letter.
I’ve done up a formal will, and Mr. McMorrow will have it, but these things take time. I just wanted you to know that the house is yours. I’m leaving my savings to Emma.
The words stopped her cold. She read them again, slower. The meaning didn’t change. Bridget had left her something.
The house going to Natalie made sense. This didn’t.
She’d helped with the turf and the shopping and the Sunday papers for years, but never expected anything back.
The amount didn’t matter—two thousand or two hundred thousand.
Bridget had seen her as family. Had written it down so there could be no mistake.
Emma’s throat tightened. She kept reading, the letters swimming now.
She’s only been gone a few months, and I already miss her something terrible. She’s been like a second grandchild to me, and I want to make sure she’s taken care of.
Emma’s eyes burned. She blinked, but tears spilled down her cheeks.
Natalie rose from her chair without a word.
The next thing Emma knew, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her up and into a solid embrace.
Emma turned her face into the soft fabric of Natalie’s hoodie, letting the sobs come fully now.
Her hands fisted in the material at Natalie’s back.
The exhaustion from the long flight mixed with the ache of missing Bridget and the overwhelming sweetness of being wanted like this.
It all poured out against Natalie’s steady heartbeat.
“I can’t believe it,” Emma managed, voice muffled and thick. “She didn’t have to… I never thought…”
Natalie’s hand moved in slow circles between her shoulder blades, the touch warm and sure.
“She loved you, Emma. The way you looked after her when I couldn’t be here.
I know I’ve told you probably a hundred times by now over the years, but thank you.
For everything you did for her. I’m glad she decided to do that. ”
Emma pulled back just enough to look up at her, vision blurry. Natalie’s own eyes glistened, though no tears had fallen yet. Emma wiped at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed by how quickly she had come apart. Natalie smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear.
“The money doesn’t matter,” Emma whispered, though her voice still wavered. “It’s that she thought of me that way.”
“Of course she did.”
Emma tilted her face up and kissed Natalie softly. The kiss held no urgency tonight, only the deep relief of coming home after too long away.