4. Four
Four
Juliet
T he next morning dawned with a bright, cheerful sunrise. I woke up earlier than usual thanks to the dainty curtains hanging in my new bedroom, so I decided to take advantage of the unexpected early start.
With a good night’s sleep behind me, I could almost forget what happened with Henry.
Almost.
Still, my temper had cooled enough to shake him from my mind. Everyone else had been wonderfully kind, even the lawyer on the phone. I glanced at the kitchen counter, where I’d set my mother’s letter as I unloaded the car. It looked harmless enough, written on thick paper from her favorite stationary set and tucked into a matching floral envelope, but its contents were far from innocuous.
I didn’t even need to read it to know exactly what it said. My dearest Juliet, If you’re reading this, I’m gone and can no longer protect you, so you must protect yourself. Trust your instincts and know that every choice I made, I made for you. It was a matter of life and death. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you alone in the world. Contact the owner of the Lakeside Inn in Spruce Hill, New York. She’ll explain everything I was too selfish to tell you in my final months. Love, Mom
I found it while packing up her bedroom, the task I’d avoided as long as I possibly could before the sale of the house was finalized last week. The envelope lay tucked in the drawer of her bedside table, the handwritten letter and my mom’s beloved opal ring sealed inside.
At first, I thought maybe it was a gift, like she’d booked me a stay at some random inn so I could escape the oppressive weight of my grief. What exactly I needed protection from, I still didn’t know, but I’d found the phone number for the inn on an incredibly outdated website and made the phone call.
The woman who answered the phone—I now knew it was Mrs. Gregson—had regretfully informed me that the owner passed away only months ago, not long after my mother. Struck numb by the dead end, I’d given her my phone number when she asked for it and assumed that was the end of the road.
The next day, Nan’s lawyer called and changed the course of my life.
Shaking myself from the memories, I smoothed out my hair and studied the options in my closet. Much as I didn’t want to give anyone, least of all Henry, the power to make me self-conscious about my clothes, I dressed in dark jeans and a nice lavender camisole under a slouchy oatmeal sweater. It might not scream consummate professional, but it looked nice.
As I stepped out the front door, I let go of all the turmoil, breathed in the sweet scent of the flowers in the yard, and whispered, “I could get used to this.”
The only response was a chorus of birdsong from the treetops nearby.
I strolled around the side of the cottage and followed a small footpath leading down to Lake Ontario. The sky overhead was a fresh, brilliant turquoise, dotted with wispy white clouds. I squinted against the morning sun, cupping a hand over my eyes to try to see across the water, but all I could make out was an endless stretch of gleaming gray-blue. Even when I peered to either side of where I stood, the curving shoreline prevented me from seeing any other houses nearby.
Where I came from, lakes were plentiful, but they were nothing like this, not without driving for hours to reach the shore of Lake Superior. This was like gazing out from the edge of the world.
For a long time, I simply stood there, listening to the song of the birds overhead and the soft lap of the waves. This place seemed custom made for me, peaceful and quiet and so beautiful that my hands itched for a pencil and paper.
“I could really get used to this,” I repeated, a little louder this time. A startled robin burst into flight from a few yards away.
Though the maps had shown a small sandy beach nearby, somewhere along the lake, this section was outlined by large rocks and boulders. I wandered aimlessly along the shore, enjoying the solitude. It was a different world out here, like I was all alone with the water and sky and breeze.
I paused where the path ended, just at the edge of a forested area.
The urge to spread my arms wide and close my eyes to soak in this moment was too strong to resist. Afterward, I breathed deep, opened my eyes, and pulled out my phone to snap a picture of the incredible view. I sent it to Sarah, along with a reminder to enjoy her trip instead of worrying.
The phone rang almost immediately with an incoming video call. I had no idea what time it was there, but I should have known she’d jump on the opportunity to check in again.
“What part of ‘enjoy your vacation and stop worrying about what’s happening in New York’ did you not understand?” I grumbled, trying to hide a smile, but seeing her face settled something in my chest.
Sarah’s unrepentant grin filled my screen. “I need details, Jules. How is it? Is the inn as cute as the photos on the website?”
“It’s cuter,” I admitted. “I didn’t expect to feel anything for the building or the property, but it’s like something was pulling me here. Like me coming to Spruce Hill was meant to be, if that makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense. A family member you didn’t know about left you a legacy. How could you not be drawn to it?”
“I don’t even have to pay rent for this adorable cottage. It’s part of the inheritance, so I can live off the proceeds from selling Mom’s house for months. Years, maybe. Aside from leaving you halfway across the country, there was nothing keeping me back home. Nothing to rival a chance to make art without worrying about how I’m going to afford groceries.”
“You’re not leaving me anywhere, Jules. No matter how far away you are, you’ve got me.”
Quietly, Sarah’s husband Andre called, “And me!”
I laughed, but the warmth building inside me was almost overwhelming. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Has the shock worn off yet?”
“No,” I laughed. “A mysterious inheritance, along with the realization that my mother lied to me for my entire life?”
The prospect of it still left me feeling mildly numb, even in light of the low pulse of excitement in my veins.
“You know, I always thought I’d be the one with a mystery inheritance,” she teased. “Maybe some distant uncle would leave me a creepy old house in Minneapolis or something. I didn’t expect you to end up living a fairy tale while I’m across the ocean!”
“Like traveling all over Europe for months is some kind of punishment.” I grinned and held the phone up to show her the rest of my surroundings. “I’ll send you some pictures of the gardens behind the inn, they’re phenomenal.”
“Have you met your staff yet?” she asked, saying the word like she was the Queen of England. “Any young hotties, perhaps? It’s about time you had some fun, girl.”
“They’re not my staff, they’re the inn’s staff. I met them yesterday when I got in, they’re very nice. Mostly.”
Of course my best friend picked up on the qualification. “Mostly? Someone I need to throw down with?”
“No, I can take care of things myself. The manager is just . . . not very excited that I’m here. His grandfather has been the caretaker at the inn longer than either of us have been alive, though, so I don’t want to ruffle any feathers. Not more than I have already, at least.”
“Feathers have been ruffled, hmm? Let me guess—your temper got the best of you?”
I made a face at the phone. “Let’s just say if you’d been in my shoes, you probably would’ve broken his nose. When his grandfather said Henry could show me the books, I imagined he’d be a middle-aged math nerd.”
Sarah burst out laughing. “Show you the books? Guess you didn’t share your distaste of math with the guy, huh?”
“I figured it wasn’t smart to explain just how unqualified I am for any of this. I’m heading over for breakfast soon. Hopefully today will be a fresh start.” I paused to look out over the water before saying, “I’m really nervous. I wish my mom was here to explain all of this.”
“Oh, honey, I know. I’m sure she had her reasons, though. You were her whole world, Jules.”
Tears threatened, so I took a deep breath to get a handle on them. “I know. Look, I should go, and you should enjoy your trip. I don’t want Andre holding a grudge against me for the rest of our lives because I interrupted your vacation so many times.”
“You know he doesn’t mind. Go on, but I expect regular updates, especially if nerd boy messes you with again. I’ll need to know who to ship the glitter bomb to. Love you, girl. Kisses!”
I blew her a kiss and ended the call, then slipped the phone back in my pocket and stood at the edge of the water for several long minutes, mentally converting segments of the beautiful landscape into paintings, until my stomach grumbled.
Next time, I’d definitely have to sit down out here with my sketchbook, I decided as I started back toward the inn. The hardest part would be deciding what to draw first.
As I crossed through the gardens, I turned back toward the lake, wondering just where my grandmother had positioned herself to complete the artwork hanging in my new bedroom. The flowers were different now, but I meandered back and forth a bit along the path until I thought I’d found the right spot.
I lifted my head to stare out at the water beyond as I tried to memorize the view. I wanted to compare it to the painting when I returned to the cottage.
Finally satisfied that I would remember the image clearly enough, I headed in for breakfast. And while I steeled myself for another possible confrontation with Henry, I couldn’t bite back a smile at the image of him covered in purple glitter once Sarah got a lock on his location.
It was good to have friends, even if they were halfway across the world.