Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Emelia
The next morning, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. The unfamiliar room comes into focus as I sit up in bed. That’s when I remember the events of last night.
Elliott bursting into the bunkie like a superhero intent on saving the damsel in distress.
The way his gaze dipped to my chest when I stood in my wet, see-through tank top, and how it made a warm thrumming sensation pool in my belly.
How he didn’t hesitate to offer me somewhere to sleep, even though he loathes me.
Despite the issues between us, I only felt relief when he appeared last night, as though I intrinsically knew that he would take care of the problem and keep me safe.
After sliding out of bed, I slowly open the bedroom door and slip into the bathroom. When I’m done, I work up the courage to find and face Elliott. In the light of day, it feels harder than it did in the middle of a thunderstorm with the lights off.
There’s no sign of Baylor, so I head down the hall toward the kitchen. I’m hopeful that he’s already up because there’s no way I’m going to knock on his bedroom door.
When I enter the kitchen, he’s not there.
So I glance out the sliding door to see the damage on the bunkie.
Elliott is just returning, walking toward the house.
Rather than remaining in the kitchen and risking Baylor finding me, I slide the door to the side and meet him as he’s coming up onto the deck.
“How’s everything look?”
He scrubs his palm over the stubble on his jaw, and I’m pretty sure that’s my answer. “The tree took out the back corner of the bunkie. The damage is mostly contained to the walk-in closet, but it’s open to the elements, so you won’t be able to stay there until it’s fixed.”
“I was hoping it wasn’t as bad as it sounded last night.” I frown.
“Afraid so.” He glances over his shoulder at the bunkie. “Think you’re staying with us.”
My stomach swoops. “I wouldn’t put you through the torture.”
I’m trying to keep my response light, ease some of the tension between us, only now I can’t tell where the tension is coming from. Is it because we don’t like each other still, or is it because something else shifted between us last night?
“It’s my fault. I deserve the penance.” He pushes a hand through his hair. It falls perfectly into place, with the same effortless look it always has, which I can see is indeed effortless.
“Elliott, it’s not your fault that a tree fell in a storm.”
“It is. A branch fell off in the spring when another storm went through, and I knew that tree should probably come down. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Summer is so busy for me. I’d planned to do it this fall.”
“Ellio—”
“What if you’d been hurt, Emelia?” His deep-blue eyes bore into me, and I draw back from the surprise of his concerned tone.
“Honestly? I thought maybe you’d welcome that.” I’m only half joking, and he must be able to tell because he cringes.
“You’ll stay in the guest room until I can get it repaired.”
“Are you sure?” The truth is, there really aren’t any good options close to town. I looked into them before I came out here, and it’s the reason I was booked with Elliott in the first place.
“Yeah, of course. Get your things and bring them into the house. Only…”
My head tilts. “What is it?”
“Most of your clothes are soaked from the rain, since the tree went through the ceiling above the closet. But you’re welcome to use my washer and dryer.” He cringes again, and I assume it’s because he feels bad.
I chuckle as I walk past him. “Lighten up, Elliott. Think of it this way—this whole situation has saved me from having to use the laundromat in town. That’s a win in my book.”
His low chuckle rings out in the morning air as I make my way to the bunkie. I swear I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, but I must be imagining it. The man hates me.
Before I returned with my things from the bunkie, Elliott told Baylor that I would be staying with them for a bit and why. To say she was excited is an understatement.
I forgot to get the Wi-Fi password from Elliott before he left this morning, and I’m due to send a report to my boss letting him know how the town hall meeting went. It’s just as well. I feel weird being in his house by myself.
So I hop in my car and head to the Hollow Pine Café to use their free Wi-Fi.
Once again, I spot the Thermos Crew across the road on their lawn chairs and give them a wave before I head inside.
“Morning, sweetheart. Looks like you brought work with you today.” Dottie nods at the laptop in my hand while sliding a mug across the counter with one hand, then filling it from the coffeepot that seems like a permanent fixture in her other hand.
“I have a couple of things to get done this morning.” I reach for the mug on instinct and take a sip, closing my eyes in delight at the flavor. “Still not used to how good this is.”
She lets out a throaty chuckle. “What can I get you to eat?” The bell over the door rings, and a man I’d guess is in his late forties with a long brown beard walks in. “Your usual table is open, Doug. Have a seat, and I’ll be right over with your coffee.”
His gaze flicks over to me, then he smiles and nods at Dottie before walking farther into the café.
“I told you, I’m not much of a breakfast person.” I set the mug on the counter.
“And then I watched you inhale the pancakes.” She gives me the once-over, studying me, squinting one eye, and pursing her bright red lips. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?”
I shake my head.
“Then I think it should be walnut-studded crepes for you this morning.” She smacks her hand on the counter as though it’s decided.
There’s no sense in arguing, so I just thank her. But before she peels away from the counter, I say, “Hey, Dottie, what brought you to Echo Lake again?”
“Married a mobster when I was a showgirl in Vegas and ran away from him when the marriage went bad.” She gives me a wink and heads over to the tables near the windows to refill their coffee.
I laugh and open my laptop to get started.
But the first thing I do isn’t check my emails or write the report for my boss.
Instead, I go back to Facebook to see if I’ve been accepted into the two community groups.
I’ve only been accepted into one of them.
With a queasy stomach, I type out a message.
Looking for anyone who may have known Tanya Eaton or any of her relatives…
I detail her date of birth and death and ask anyone who may have knowledge of the family to contact me.
We don’t share the same last name, so no one should have any idea what my relation to the family may be. I’m thankful for it because it gives me time to still back out and change my mind at the last minute.
My finger shakes over the Return key until I push it.
I stare at my post on the screen, debating whether to delete it. I really hope my parents don’t find out about this.
“Emelia?” Dottie’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I get the sense that she may have been trying to get my attention for a while.
“Sorry, deep in thought.”
“Emelia, this is Lilith Nyland.” She gestures toward a woman in her sixties with gray hair pulled back into a taut bun. “Her family owns a blueberry farm just out of town.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Lilith gives me a small smile and nods. “Heard you’re shaking up with Elliott. That ought to be interesting.”
For some unknown reason, my cheeks heat. “I’m starting to feel like I’m at a disadvantage, with everyone knowing who I am before I know them.”
“That’s the way of things around here. It’s one of our charms. I’d like to keep it.”
“I take it you have some thoughts on my presence here in town.”
“I’ll leave you ladies to it. Gonna go check on Doug.” Dottie winks at us, and I know that “check on” is code for flirt.
Lilith moves a stool closer to me. “I don’t want to see this town turned into something it’s not, if that’s what you’re asking. My family has had our farm for four generations. My ancestors would be turning over in their graves if we lost the farm.”
“I can assure you we’re not looking to buy up a bunch of land.”
She hesitates. “You say that, but developers tend to get greedy. It only takes a handful of people to decide to cash in and sell for things to start the snowball effect. Before you know it, things look different around here, more people don’t like it, so they decide to sell too in order to move on from here. ”
I think back to what Elliott pointed out at the town hall meeting—the vagueness of the development proposal that the firm came up with.
This is the first small-town development I’ve worked on. Normally, in urban centers, most of the surrounding blocks are already being utilized for the highest and best use. The parcels have already been assembled when you start a development project. But it’s different here.
“For many years, a long time ago, our farm was one of the largest employers. We’ve seen great years and lean years, and we’ve employed different generations of the same family.
Our blueberries are used in some of the state’s fanciest restaurants, and Moira Wilson has won the state fair pie-baking contest seven times using our blueberries.
Things like that matter, at least to the community that exists here today. ”
A pull of recognition tugs in my gut when I listen to her words.
It’s hard not to think of my upbringing in Sunrise Bay and relate it to what she’s saying.
Small towns have their own heartbeat, and what helps them survive is exactly the kind of thing she’s talking about.
Without it, you lose what’s special about a place like this.
Looking right into her eyes, I say, “I don’t want you to lose what’s special about this place either. You can trust me on that. I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure that if the council votes yes on this project, you won’t regret it. You have my word.”
Her aged eyes lock onto mine, and I hold her gaze so that she knows I mean what I say. Finally, after what feels like a long moment, she gives me a quick nod.
Dottie returns behind the counter. “Lilith, your usual to go?”
The older woman looks away from me. “If you don’t mind.”
The two of them hold their own conversation, and I think about what she said.
Later that morning, after I’ve devoured the crepes Dottie forced on me, I begin the report for my boss.
It isn’t until I read it over before I leave that I realize it sounds as though I’m on the side of the townspeople and not on the developer’s side.
I’ll have to give it another once-over before I hit Send.