30. Holly #2
“Next week? I thought you were here until September.” She could hear her voice break. “I thought we at least had the summer.”
“Shit.” Ben glanced back at the dock, then at her. “Holly, I was going to tell you last night. I just found out myself.”
“Well, you should have. Before we went to dinner. Before we…”
Ben grabbed her hands in his. “I know. I had every intention. But we were having so much fun, and I didn’t want it to end. You’ve been under so much pressure lately, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Do not put this on me,” she said, withdrawing her hands.
“I’m sorry. What I meant was that last night was a break for both of us. It felt like we were kids again, no worries in the world, just the two of us and Chatham and the whole summer ahead of us.” This time when he took her hands, she let him. She’d felt it last night, too.
“Only it doesn’t sound like we have the whole summer ahead of us. Are you really going?”
The regret was in his eyes already. “I have to. It’s a big trial, and the court moved the date up. If I could change it, believe me I would.”
With the words out, Holly had a decision to make. One had already been decided for her, but there was another she had control of. “I have to get back to work.”
“The grand opening.”
She nodded.
“About that. My partner, Jonathan, wants to work through the weekend to prep for trial. But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I still have a lot I need to do around here for Jonah.”
“For Jonah,” she said. She turned for her car.
“Holls.”
“Please, don’t call me that.”
He reached for her shoulder and gently turned her back around to face him. “Last night meant a lot to me.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, Holly got in her car and backed out. She didn’t look in the rearview mirror. Tears burning, she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead all the way back to the inn.
All the light she’d felt that morning clouded over, like a storm coming in off the water.
When she got back to the library, the Candy Manor had delivered the chocolates for tomorrow night’s event.
Cheerful pink boxes covered the coffee table.
Linus had rolled the wine cart to the corner, by the pedestal of the one fern he’d agreed to.
Holly looked from the chocolates to the wine, went to the desk by the window and put her head down on it.
Then she did the only thing she could: she called her mother.
Claire was in a meeting when she answered. “Mom.” It came out like a strangled cry.
“Holly? Is everything alright?” Holly could hear people talking in the background, the sound of a door being closed. It got quiet and her mom came back on the phone. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“All of it.” With the words out, the rest followed.
The ups and downs of the inn that summer, her grandmother’s explosion about the goldfinch, the worried staff, the glowing reviews but fading finances, and finally—Ben Walters.
Her mother listened, her tongue clucking in sympathy at every beat, her voice unusually tender.
“I don’t know what to say,” she answered, finally.
“This is all so much. I wish you’d called me. ”
“I thought I could handle it. I needed to see if I could.”
“Holly, this sounds like too much for any one person to handle alone. But guess what? You don’t have to.”
Holly listened as her mother reminded her of all the people who’d circled their wagons for her. Her grandmother, her staff, even Ben, in his own complicated way. And finally her own mother. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, really. I just needed to hear your voice.”
When they hung up, her troubles hadn’t changed, but she was still glad she’d called. She wished her mother lived closer; she wished she’d visit more.
Greta knocked at the door. Holly had completely forgotten they had a meeting about the grand opening. “Is now a bad time?” she asked, peeking at Holly’s tear-stained face.
“Depends.” She pointed to the Candy Manor delivery and then the bar cart. “Do you prefer sweets or wine?”
An open bottle of sauvignon and a box of chocolate fudge between them, Holly and Greta each lay on an opposing couch staring up at the bookshelves. “It really is a magical space,” Greta said.
“It’s everything I wanted it to be, minus the circular staircase.
” When Greta looked confused, Holly described the old staircase and landing that had been built by the Spicers, and replaced by her grandparents, before being torn down altogether.
How she used to play in here with Ben and his brother and all their other friends, how she would hide up there, and how she wished she could go do that now.
“You and he go way back,” Greta said, popping another piece of fudge in her mouth. “May I ask what the story is there?”
“If I can ask about you and Oliver.”
Greta snorted, and they both laughed.
“The fact that I’m hungover from a night at the Squire and still sharing a bottle of wine with you pretty much sums up my story,” Holly said.
She told Greta about their past, about how he’d come back, single again, this summer.
About the time they’d spent together and how naturally they fell back into things.
Up to last night. “It seemed we had another chance, but it turns out he has to go back to Providence.” She sighed. “He leaves this weekend.”
“And right after what you shared last night?”
Holly winced. “Indeed. Your turn.”
Greta told Holly more than she’d anticipated.
It was not just Oliver and a budding relationship that had stalled out, as she’d suspected.
Greta’s history involved a number of complicated male relationships, most of them quite painful, and Holly felt for her.
“I know what Oliver and I shared may not seem like a big deal, but I don’t date.
Oliver was my exception. I made space for him. ”
“It’s always a big deal when you put your heart out there,” Holly said. “That takes bravery.”
Greta sat up. “Okay, I’ve had two glasses of wine in the afternoon and I have dinner service to get through. This may have been a bad idea.”
“You’ll be fine,” Holly said, sitting up, too. “Your new dishes are proving a hit, by the way. I say we add a few to the old menu. Assuming you’re ready to go back to the old menu?”
Greta nodded gratefully. “Thank you for trusting me with that. I needed to work through some stuff. That’s how I do it—in the kitchen.”
“I don’t question genius.”
“How about you? Are you nervous about tomorrow night?”
Holly thought about that. “I think being nervous means that whatever you’re doing matters. So yes, I am.”
The sun had moved west across the water, and it spilled into the library, dappling the walls and shelves in gold.
Holly didn’t want to put Greta on the spot, but they’d aired so much in the library that afternoon.
“I know everyone is worried about their jobs right now. I overheard Josephine’s sister mention openings in another hotel.
I was relieved when Josephine told her no—it was too soon to look.
Do you wonder about what you’d do if you weren’t here? ”
“I used to want to work in a city, in some culinary mecca, but now I don’t think so.”
“You wouldn’t go back to Sweden?”
“Not now. I feel like there’s more here for me to explore and do.” She looked at Holly. “I’m not ready to give up on the Cranberry.”
Holly knew that feeling. “The inn has certainly drawn a cast of characters for its staff, all from off the Cape and yet all determined to stay here. I’m lucky, even if I only get the summer with all of you.”
“This was nice,” Greta told her, rising and taking the bottle with her. She paused in the doorway. “Remember, summer isn’t over yet.”