Chapter 11 #2
Celia leaned back in her chair, her soup untouched.
“Oh!” she said, realizing, with a lurch in her stomach, that her ex-friend Bethany was the editor of the Bluebell Cove Gazette.
Because Celia was currently an out-of-work journalist, Bethany was currently “winning” their long-standing competition.
Not that Celia wasn’t happy for her, of course.
“I mean, can you believe that? I’m twenty, and she’s letting me pitch my own ideas,” Sophie said, her smile widening.
“So I thought and thought and thought about it. Like, all night I was doing research about the area, and about the people from Bluebell Cove, and what makes this town tick, you know? Because you never told me anything about it. It’s been fascinating. ”
Celia’s pulse fluttered in her throat. She couldn’t speak.
“And I realized that this new building, this luxury hotel? Down by the cove? Some people are not exactly happy about it being built,” Sophie said.
“Apparently, it’s going to destroy the microbiome in the area.
And think of the view from the back porch of the Bluebell Cove Inn!
I mean, it’s going to be ruined. And right now it’s the prettiest view I’ve ever seen. ”
Celia’s mind’s eye filled with a vision of Landon Brooks, chasing her after that strange and exhilarating day they’d spent together—a day that was lodged in her memories, a day that had frightened her because it had made her feel too close to something real.
He’d asked her to write about the new Hanson Smith development; he’d asked her to use her talent for the good of the town.
She’d felt frozen. Since then, Landon had contacted her twice via text message, apologizing that he’d gotten her number from her journalist website.
Celia had responded to say she was “really busy,” but that she’d reach out to him soon. She hadn’t.
Landon seemed to know that she wanted him to stay away.
He seemed to understand that whatever had brewed between them that day was not something she wanted. She didn’t have time for nostalgia. She didn’t have time for romance.
It was something she’d given up on forever.
“I don’t know if you should dig around on that story, honestly,” Celia said tentatively. “I mean, the Hanson family, the family in charge of developing the luxury resort, isn’t one you should mess with. They’re powerful people.”
Sophie burst with laughter. “Mom, listen to yourself. In the past, you were the one who interviewed mega-billionaires about their companies’ oil spills, forest destruction, and whatever else.
In your long and storied career, you never let anyone get the better of you.
It’s why I wanted to become an environmental journalist in the first place.
” She drew back, her eyes bugging out. “And anyway, I already pitched the idea to Bethany, and she loves it. I’m going to write it. ”
Celia’s hands were clammy. She felt her daughter glaring at her and didn’t have the energy to meet her gaze.
“She put me in touch with a local marine biologist,” Sophie said.
Celia forced herself to raise her head. It could only be Landon. Clearly, he and Bethany were in touch. They’d both stayed in Bluebell Cove. They’d both maintained their optimism, their good hearts. “Have you already contacted him?”
“Who says the biologist is a guy?” Sophie asked, crossing her arms.
Celia swallowed. “Honey, you know, maybe it’s a good idea to take the summer off from writing?
I have so much to take care of with the inn, especially if we want to open sooner rather than later.
I’m so grateful for your help. As you can see, nobody else has joined us.
Your aunts, my sisters? They don’t care. ”
Sophie’s nostrils flared. “This isn’t going to get in the way of cleaning up the inn. This is more about my career, and doing something good with my life, something that matters.”
“The inn matters,” Celia said.
“Then why didn’t you bring me to Bluebell Cove for all these years?” Sophie demanded. “Why did I grow up all alone in Washington, DC?”
Celia sputtered with disbelief. “You weren’t alone. We were together. We’ve always been together.”
“But you weren’t being honest with me,” Sophie said.
“You never told me why we didn’t come here.
You never told me what Grandpa did to make you so mad.
You never told me about any of your friends, or how beautiful it is here, or what your sisters are like.
You barely talk about my dad, and that’s something I’ve asked you about, over and over again. ”
Celia felt it like a stab in her gut. Sophie’s father, her husband, the man she’d taken a risk on—she hated thinking about him. It was a risk that had broken her heart.
“When did you get so frightened, Mom?” Sophie asked, standing from her chair.
Celia clutched her spoon so hard that pain ballooned through her palm. “Honey,” she said, trying to keep her voice low. “Honey, if you’ve gone through what I’ve gone through; if you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t pursue any of this.”
Sophie blinked at her. “Any of what?”
Celia pushed herself to say it. “This career? It’s a brick wall.
It’s learning, over and over again, that people are terrible, and there’s no hope for our world.
I’ve written hundreds of articles about awful people and how they’re destroying forests, rivers, oceans, and prairies.
I’ve written about seventy-seven different extinct species.
My heart has broken a thousand times over.
And you know what? I would keep writing if there were any money in it.
But more than half of the articles I’ve pitched to my editor over the past five years have been rejected.
I research, look for insider information, hunt for clues, and still, my editor says, ‘this isn’t sellable’ or ‘nobody cares about this.’ It’s disheartening.
It’s the reason we can’t move to a better apartment or buy a house.
It’s the reason I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to retire.
And that’s why we have to be here, working at the Bluebell Cove Inn, praying for the inheritance that’s owed us. It’s our saving grace.”
Sophie stayed standing, her face pale. She looked like she didn’t know if she wanted to believe Celia or not.
“Think about how you want your life to go,” Celia whispered. “Maybe it isn’t too late for you to find something else to do, some better way to live.”
Sophie’s eyes echoed her disappointment. Without saying a thing, she turned on her heel and left the restaurant, leaving Celia to stare into her soup alone.