Chapter One #2
She would figure all of those things out. They had time. Emma was here for at least a few months. If Rosie had anything to
say about it, she could be here longer.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the back door opening. She looked over in surprise and found her mother peering at the three
of them seated at the table.
Rosie jumped up and rushed to Sylvia. “Mom! What are you doing here? I can’t believe you made your way all the way to the
house on your own. Why didn’t you call me?”
Her mother was on crutches and she wore sleep pants that had monkey face emojis on them. Her dyed magenta hair was crumpled
on one side, as if she had forgotten to comb it out after she awoke.
“I’m hungry, if you want the truth. I was out refilling my bird feeders and thought I smelled pancakes coming from this direction.”
“I wish you would let me refill your bird feeders,” Rosie fussed. “The doctor says no weight-bearing for at least a month.
You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“The doctor doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” her mother grumbled. “I’m fine.”
Sylvia was not fine. She had a compound ankle fracture that had already required one surgery and might possibly need another.
“I planned to drop some pancakes at your cottage before we head to the bookstore.”
“Now you don’t have to, since I’m here.” She moved into the room, maneuvering carefully on her crutches.
“Hi, Granny Sylvie!” Olive beamed at her great-grandmother, her face sticky with syrup.
Sylvia grinned back at her. “Olive, darling. How wonderful to see you this beautiful morning. How did I get so lucky to see
you two days in a row?”
“Guess what? You can see me every day now.”
“Aren’t I truly a lucky duck, then?”
“You’re not a duck.” Olive chortled. “You’re a grandma.”
“A grandma who needs to sit down,” Emma said. Rosie’s daughter pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for her grandmother.
“Here you go.”
The older woman settled heavily into the chair, her leg outstretched in front of her.
“That’s better. Who would have guessed one silly moment out of your life could have such lasting consequences?”
Anyone with a shred of common sense could have guessed. A seventy-two-year-old woman with mild osteoporosis had no business
even being near roller skates, forget about putting them on.
But Sylvia never asked advice before embarking on her escapades, she simply plowed forward. Or skated forward, in this case.
“Here you are, Mom,” she said, putting a plate stacked with three fluffy blueberry pancakes in front of her. “And here’s the
syrup. What can I get you to drink?”
“Water is fine,” Sylvia said, then sent her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose you have any bacon to go with this, do you?”
“I do, but I would rather not cook it right now.”
“Why not? Bacon goes perfectly with pancakes on a beautiful Sunday morning.”
Rosie sighed, sending a meaningful look at the other two people in the kitchen. “Emma and Olive are vegetarians, remember?”
Emma rolled her eyes, almost as if she were fifteen years old again. “You can eat meat in front of me, Mom. I won’t have a
fit of the vapors.”
“I don’t need bacon.” Sylvia looked contrite. “I’ll be fine. If I need more protein, I’ll have a yogurt or something.”
All of them were dancing around each other like boats navigating through a foggy harbor.
“What about eggs?” Rosie asked.
“Eggs are fine,” Emma assured them. “I eat eggs. So does Olive. But bacon is fine for you, too. I’m not offended by other
people eating meat, just because I’ve chosen a mostly plant-based diet.”
Rosie would figure out this new reality of living with her daughter and granddaughter. At some point soon, she needed to sit
down with Emma and have a good talk about her and Olive’s dietary preferences—and anything else they needed to figure out
so they could make this arrangement as comfortable as possible.
She had so much to learn about them. She and Emma hadn’t lived together in eight years. Hadn’t spoken for several of those.
Those years of silence had been a terrifying time for Rosie, as she had no idea even where her daughter was or what she might
be going through. Her only comfort had come from knowing Emma had stayed in touch with her grandmother and always assured
Sylvia she was fine. Sylvia, in turn, had passed that information to Rosie.
How fine was up for debate. Rosie suspected the full truth would devastate her if she ever learned all the details.
Emma had been a seventeen-year-old girl, living with a man nearly a decade older who had dragged her into a life of drug and alcohol abuse.
From the little Sylvia had told her about those years, Rosie knew her daughter had lived on the street for a time, had squatted in an abandoned house and had bounced from couch to couch.
She was here now. And doing incredibly well, all things considered. Clean and sober since before Olive was born, Emma had
a college degree she had worked hard to earn on her own and she had left a decent job to come back to Wood Briar and help
out at the bookshop.
The two of them had struggled to repair their fractured relationship but the occasional phone call, text message or rare short
visit could only go so far.
“We always have eggs, thanks to our girls,” she said, grateful for the five Rhode Island Reds who provided a steady supply.
When Sylvia first came to her during the Covid pandemic and said she wanted to pick up some chicks, Rosie had been reluctant.
She adored them now. Together with her little dog, Dottie, and Sylvia’s two cats, her house had plenty of creatures for Olive
to love.
It was the perfect place for a precocious, inquisitive little girl to thrive. Rosie could only pray her daughter would come
to see that as well during their stay here.
As she cracked several eggs and scrambled them together, she listened to the hum of conversation between the three women of
multiple generations.
Emma and Sylvia chattered away with a familiarity that sent a twinge of jealousy through Rosie, though she knew she had no
right to it.
She was happy her mother and her daughter got along so well. It had been a deep comfort during their years of separation to know Emma had someone reliable in her life to count on.
She couldn’t help it that she wanted Emma to confide in her instead of Sylvia.
After she finished the eggs, she plated them and took a seat at the table across from her mother.
“So what’s on the docket for you ladies today?” Sylvia asked.
“We’re going to the book place,” Olive announced happily. “Grandma says I can have a new book.”
“Are you?”
Emma nodded. “I want to take a look at things before I officially start tomorrow. Get the lay of the land.”
Sylvia straightened. “What time are you leaving? I only need a few minutes to get dressed and do something with this hair.”
“Are you sure, Mom?” Rosie said with a frown. “We might be there for a few hours.”
“Positive. I won’t do a single thing that takes more effort than lifting a pencil. We can’t toss the girl into the deep end.”
“You don’t have to come with us if you’re not up to it,” Emma assured her. “You can stay wherever you’re most comfortable.
I can always FaceTime you with any questions.”
Annoyance creased Sylvia’s forehead. “I have a broken ankle. I’m not dying. I can handle a quick trip to the bookstore.”
She ate another bite of pancake. “I still don’t know why your mother felt the need to drag you down here,” she grumbled. “I’m
perfectly capable of running the bookstore. It all feels like a lot of fuss for nothing.”
Rosie squelched her guilt. This was the right decision for her mother, even if Sylvia didn’t want to admit it.
“Dr. Peterson is the one who said you should take several weeks off. You have to stay off your ankle as much as possible. How can you do that when you’re trying to take inventory or wait on customers?”
“Easy. I don’t have to be on my feet at all. I can get around on a rolling office chair or something.”
“We’ve talked about this, Mom.” Rosie fought down her frustration. “Listen to the doctor. Take a vacation for a month. We
need to let your ankle heal as long as possible, and then we’ll see how you are after the doctor says you can put weight on
it again.”
She sincerely hoped her mother would decide that with the bookstore in Emma’s very capable hands, she could relax and enjoy
her retirement.
She could sleep in all morning, go thrift shopping with her girlfriends in the afternoon—once her ankle healed, anyway—and
even catch the party bus to the nearest casino in Lincoln City to play the slots.
Sylvia made a face. “It sucks getting old, little girl,” she said to Olive, who giggled as she continued eating her scrambled
eggs.
To Rosie’s relief, her mother let the matter slide.
They could do this, Rosie thought as she finished her own breakfast. Juggling four generations in one house—okay, one house
and a guest cottage in the backyard—would be a challenge but Rosie would make any sacrifice necessary to protect her mother’s
health, heal the rift with her daughter and have an active role in her granddaughter’s life.
It wouldn’t be easy, but Rosie had been dealing with hard things for a decade. Compared to everything else they had endured
as a family, this should be a piece of cake.