27. Isla
ISLA
“That looks amazing!” Cat squealed, taking a step back as she admired the wall I’d just finished painting. “Isla! This looks like an actual professional did it.”
I caught my lip between my teeth as I took in the patterned blue nursery wall. I may not have inherited any of my mom’s painting talent, but that’s why God had created stencils! I glanced around at the other three walls and laughed. “This is going to take us forever, huh?”
“Between the walls and the baseboards?” Cat replied. “We’ll probably be done in time to send the kid off to uni. Ugggh, I hate painting baseboards.”
“I suppose I just have to get the stencil to match all the way around, right?” I held it up, trying to plot out how I went about keeping everything aligned.
“It’s probably okay if it’s a little wonky, don’t you think?
What does the baby know about color theory and crisp lines anyway? It’s not like he’s going to judge me.”
“I don’t know,” Cat mused teasingly. “Maybe the painting talent, like, skips a generation and he’ll get all your mum’s skill.”
“Awww.” I stared down at my belly, wondering how true that could be. “Do you think so? That would actually be really sweet.”
Cat hummed, amused. “You’ll have a little Picasso running around the inn. Painting on the walls. Hey, he could do a mural at the café!”
I snorted. “Maybe we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves here. He needs to learn to hold a crayon first.”
Cat clicked her tongue. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s obviously going to pop out of the womb with an easel and watercolors.”
I grimaced. “Sounds painful.”
She laughed, plopping down on the E-Z Rocker Locke had bought. We’d moved it into the middle of the room and covered it with a plastic sheet to prevent any accidents. “Have you given any thought to that yet?”
“To the pain of delivering a full-fledged artist?” I joked.
“The pain. The delivery. All of it,” Cat said. “You haven’t said much about your birth plan. Are you going to Aberdeen to have the baby?”
I shrugged, taking in Cat’s expression as I said, “I’ve been talking to my midwife about a home birth.”
As expected, Cat’s eyes widened to the size of tea plates. “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “My mom actually gave birth to me at home.”
“I didn’t know that.”
I hummed softly. “I’m open to all options, I think. But right now, a home birth feels right. I’ve talked to the team at the hospital, and they said I could change my mind at any point.”
“Well,” Cat said, giving me a cheeky grin. “Let’s make sure you don’t have any guests booked around the due date.”
“Oh, trust me. I’ve already blocked that two-week window off on the computer,” I said, laughing. “Can you imagine the reviews? ‘Nice place. A bit noisy. Think someone was giving birth in the next room.’”
Cat snorted, shaking her head. “If I—”
Ding! Ding! Ding!
“Was that the front desk bell?” Cat asked, getting to her feet. “I thought you said the guests had all checked out for the week?”
“They did,” I said, frowning. I laid my stencil on the floor. “That’s why I had today blocked off to work on nursery stuff.” It wasn’t unheard of for us to have walk-ins, but it wasn’t exactly common, either. Braeburn was usually a place you came to on purpose.
I headed for the hall, toward the myriad of voices.
It sounded like someone’s church group had just rolled up.
I winced. I didn’t have enough rooms ready if that was the case.
And I still had so much laundry to do! Cat hurried out after me.
When I poked my head into the lobby, my jaw dropped.
It was rammed with Jo, Lena, Agnes, my Aunt Elsie, and Maisie.
Even Mel and little baby Lucy had turned up. But why?
“Hey,” I said, looking between them, mightily confused. “Not that it isn’t lovely to see you lot. But what is everyone doing here? Did I forget I’m hosting some sort of meeting?”
Jo stepped forward, sliding her arm around my shoulders. “A little bird told us you were going to be working on the nursery today, and we wanted to drop by and help.”
“Oh…” I said, immediately getting choked up.
I’d finally gotten around to admitting to Jo that yes, I was pregnant.
I couldn’t exactly hide it anymore when I looked like I’d swallowed a small chicken.
The news had whipped through town so quickly, I’d blinked, and then absolutely everyone I came across was congratulating me.
It was nice to hear, honestly. But with news of the pregnancy came other people’s opinions about me and Locke and our breakup.
I swallowed a bubble of emotion. “You really don’t have to do that. ”
“Of course we do,” Aunt Elsie said, sweeping me into her arms. She looked so much like my mom that sometimes if I closed my eyes and hugged her, it almost felt like I hadn’t lost her.
“We brought snacks and drinks,” Lena announced. “Aisling helped pick them out, so some of them might be questionable.”
“Please tell me Agnes did the baking,” Cat said, eyeing the tins on the check-in desk.
“Who else?” Agnes said, clicking her tongue. “I wouldn’t trust this lot with my scone recipe.”
I laughed, catching Cat’s eye over my aunt’s shoulder and mouthing thank you. She was obviously the little bird who had mentioned the nursery to Jo. I pulled back from the hug and took a settling breath, proud that I’d managed not to burst into tears.
“Where do we want to start?” I asked. “Tea?”
“Yes,” Elsie said. “But first…”
“I thought you could do with a pick-me-up,” Jo said. “I got word that Declan got fired after that disaster of a presentation. He ran off to Glasgow to lick his wounds.”
Agnes looked scandalized. “How do you know that?”
“I do work at a newspaper, you know,” she sniffed. “I’ve got little birds all over the place.” We all laughed, and she gave me a wink. Then she handed me a gift bag. “This is the other pick-me-up.”
“What’s this?” I asked, opening it to find a darling mobile. It was hung with small hand-painted woodland creatures, each one more adorable than the last. “Jo, this is amazing. Thank you.”
“Your mother made that for me a long time ago,” she said.
My jaw trembled as I took in the mobile again, studying each paint stroke even closer. “Really?” I asked, wonder filling my voice. I’d never seen my mother make anything like this.
“It used to hang over my grandson’s crib,” Jo confirmed. “I’ve held onto it all these years without knowing why. But now I do. Because it was meant to come back to you.”
The tears I was barely holding back finally started to fall. I blubbered a little laugh as the group closed ranks with a crushing hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what else to say. This is incredible. You’re all incredible.”
“I know it’s been difficult,” Aunt Elsie said, “dealing with the pregnancy without your partner and without your mum. But we just want you to remember that you’re very much not alone.”
“It takes a village,” Jo said with a firm nod.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, giving everyone a watery smile as I realized that’s exactly what I had. A village.