30. Holly
Holly
For someone hosting a grand opening tomorrow night, you seem suspiciously light,” Linus noted. He was going through mail at the front desk as Holly hurried by, on her fourth cup of coffee and second Advil of the morning. “Good night?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“Got to finish setup,” she trilled, ducking by. “Like you said, big night tomorrow.”
She looked down at the heavy silver watch on her wrist. Ben had left it on her bedside table last night.
Last night. Holly closed her eyes involuntarily every time she thought of it. Despite a not-so-slight hangover and the little sleep she’d had, Linus was not wrong. She was lighter. The sun seemed brighter, the coffee stronger, even Linus cheerier.
In stolen moments she luxuriated in the events of the night before.
The easy banter they’d shared at dinner, the laughter over drinks.
The way Ben pulled her against him on the dance floor at the Squire.
The way she’d slipped beneath the blanket with him on the floor that morning.
All of it, familiar and comfortable and exhilarating at once.
When she’d kissed Ben goodbye at her door, it still didn’t seem real.
Whatever was happening between them, it felt different this time around.
And they had this one last summer to figure it out.
But there was no time to make wishes or cast doubt.
She had more than fifty people coming tomorrow night.
For the library’s grand opening, Holly and Linus had planned a pop-up bookshop and author signing with a local beach-read writer Holly adored, who just happened to be home between her summer tour events.
Lindsay Roberts wrote commercial fiction set in coastal New England towns, and her stories centered on strong female protagonists and their many relationship dynamics.
She could not be a more perfect fit. With help from the local bookstore on Main Street, the pop-up shop would feature a slew of new releases as well as beach reads and local literature.
Lindsay would give an author talk and sign books.
A beautiful spread of snacks and refreshments had been planned by Greta.
All that week they’d advertised online, in town, and in the local paper.
Holly had invited everyone she knew. Their guests, old and new; their neighbors; their vendors.
And, of course, Francine, whom Holly still had not seen or heard from.
She’d left several messages on her grandmother’s phone, to no avail.
Until that morning. She was just placing the last book on the shelf when Linus knocked on the library door. “Look what came in the mail.”
Holly recognized her grandmother’s scrolly handwriting on the pink envelope, her favorite color. She waited for Linus to close the door before she opened it.
My dear,
For reasons to do with me and not you, I am taking this time for myself.
Letting go of the inn has been the hardest decision I’ve had to make.
Turning it over to you, however, was not.
Your grandfather and I wrote the story of our lives within those walls, and what a magical tale it was.
Your father grew up to be the man he was because of our adventures there, on the bluff by the sea, welcoming all through our front door.
But the business of running the inn is not an easy one.
When I handed you the wheel, the sea had already turned.
Maybe that wasn’t fair to pass on to you.
But you are young and bright and strong, and I still have faith you may right this ship.
And if you don’t, that will be okay, too.
Every story has its end. What’s most important is that you have the chance to write your own.
You were kind to repaint the goldfinch, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it as the gift it was.
For me, that bird has a special meaning and I didn’t want it changed.
Just as I’m struggling with the changes at the inn.
I’ve done a lot of letting go in my life, of your father, and then your grandfather.
I guess I have more letting go to get used to.
As you continue with your efforts there, I will continue to do what I can, here.
Let’s both keep going until the next chapter, whatever that may be. I love you.
Holly read the letter again, tears pressing the corners of her eyes. Francine’s words lent both relief and sorrow. There was so much uncertainty, for all of them. But, finally, her grandmother had reached out. With all there was to do, it meant everything.
Ezra was the other important guest she’d mailed an invitation to.
He had weighed heavily on Holly’s mind. The goldfinch had been so beautifully restored, all but the cloud around it.
It wasn’t just about the painting, though.
Holly wanted to apologize. And she wanted Ezra back.
He’d become part of the workings of the inn, and she could not let his time here end on such a sour note.
Three times she’d called and left messages. But Ezra had not called or come back.
Her mother, Claire, had also been invited, though Holly knew she wouldn’t come.
Claire was nearing retirement and working more than ever, but even if she weren’t, Holly knew her mother didn’t like coming back to the Cape.
She never had, and Holly had too much on her plate to try to convince her otherwise.
Her grandmother was right: they all needed space to do what they felt they needed to do.
Now, she stepped back and took a good hard look around.
Holly really could not believe they’d pulled it off.
The library looked like a library, and not far off from the one she’d always imagined.
With Ben’s help, Linus and Holly and Oliver had dragged the old green parlor couches upstairs from their storage spots in the basement.
With a heavy dusting and cleaning, they sat facing each other atop the beautiful botanical rug they’d found.
An antique coffee table sat between them, not too precious and just scuffed enough so people wouldn’t worry about setting down a mug of coffee or a cocktail.
Her desk was set up in front of the windows, at the far end of the room, so that when you entered, you first saw the painted sailboats bobbing against the glass on the bay outside, before your eyes traveled down the desk, silhouetted against the greenery on the other side, like an invitation to come sit and pen a letter, or a poem, or even a novel.
Here, finally, Holly could picture Anna Spicer, in a room spilling with sunlight, surrounded by her cherished children and her treasured books, all the things a woman needs to fill her soul.
Between the sitting area and the windows, the wood floors gleamed, freshly polished.
Grandest of all, and quite literally bookending all of it, were the sweeping floor-to-ceiling bookcases lining the east and west walls of the library.
Somehow, between library sales and tag sales and online sleuthing, she’d amassed a collection of books that filled every shelf.
As she stood between the towering shelves, now, Holly’s breath was taken.
Soon the bookstore would come in with stock, and create displays on smaller tables they’d set up throughout. The kitchen would handle the food and Linus the bar table. All that remained was decorations.
Holly looked at Ben’s watch, twisting it lovingly on her wrist. It was a little too big, but the weight of it felt good, as did the weight of what they’d shared. It gave her an idea.
The boatyard lot was mostly empty. She waited while a truck backed a motorboat down the launch ramp, then pulled up beside Ben’s car.
Inside, the tasting room was empty. She called upstairs, to the office, but there was no one there.
Holly walked around the back, to the steps leading down to the dock.
Already she could hear the outboard motor of a boat coming in.
She waved, only it wasn’t Ben who waved back.
Jonah slowed the barge as he drew closer, and tossed Holly the line.
She tied off for him, as he carried a cage of oysters off.
“Good morning!” If Jonah knew anything about what was happening between her and Ben, he gave no clue. “Come back to work?”
She laughed. “Hey, Jonah. Thanks, but I’ve got enough of my own.”
“He’s just coming in,” Jonah said, carrying the cage to the processing room. Sure enough, Ben was motoring toward them from up the river. Jonah came back out and joined her on the dock. “This tasting and tour thing seems to be working out nicely. Your guests are some of the best customers we get.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Everyone really seems to love it, I have to say. It’s a nice bonus for the inn, too.”
“I don’t want you to worry about what will happen when he goes,” Jonah said. “I’ve got Amy lined up next. She’s great with people and she knows as much about farming as I do.” He laughed. “Maybe more.”
It struck Holly as an odd thing to say. September was still far off. “I’m not worried at all,” she told him.
“Still. It really sucks he has to go next week.” Jonah hopped down onto the boat and went to grab another cage. “I was just getting used to him being around all the time.”
Next week. Holly bit her lip, a sense of dread filling inside. Ben pulled up, and, seeing her, waved heartily. “What’re you doing down here? Don’t you have an inn to run or something?”
He hopped off the boat, and climbed up to her. His eyes were twinkling. “What a nice surprise,” he whispered, pecking her on the cheek.
“It’s not the only one,” Holly said flatly. She reached down to unbuckle his watch. Aware Jonah was watching, she nodded to the steps instead. “Got a minute?”
Ben followed her up to the landing and back out front to the parking lot. “Slow down, what’s going on?”
She handed him his watch. “You left this.”
He took it, eyes locked on hers. “Holls. You okay?”