Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Emelia
Ifeel better after speaking to my parents last night, but I still haven’t responded to the text message on my phone. I’ve opened it to respond several times, and by now, it’s burned into my memory.
Hey, this is Liz. I’m Tanya Eaton’s niece. Heard you were trying to track down some relatives of hers. May I ask why?
For some reason, I haven’t been able to make myself respond. Maybe because once I do, there’s no going back, and I’m not sure what I’ll find on the other end. Yesterday at this time, I thought it was my parents holding me back, but that might have only been my excuse.
I will respond to her. I just need a moment to gather my thoughts. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours.
I’m working on my laptop on the couch in Elliott’s family room when an email pops up from one of my coworkers.
I decide not to read it at that moment, in favor of finishing up what I’m working on.
Once that’s done, I go back to my email and see that the same coworker has sent a response to her original email.
Sorry, Emelia, you shouldn’t have been cc’d on this. Please disregard.
Happy that I have one less thing to do, I’m about to delete the email and not even read the original, when a word on the attachment catches my eye.
Echo Lake.
A horrible dread fills my gut that nothing about this will be good.
I open the attachment, curious why something related to the project I’m on should be disregarded.
It’s a copy of all the bylaws and zoning restrictions on a lakefront property in Echo Lake. But it’s not the city-owned property my firm is currently trying to develop. Worry settles in the pit of my stomach and grows as I scroll through the attachment.
Did she pull information for the wrong property? Is that why she told me to disregard? It could be as simple as that, but something tells me that may not be the case.
I take a look at the other recipients on the original email and see my boss’s name as well as a couple higher up on the food chain.
The first thing I do is go to the land registry database to see who owns the parcel in question, but when I get my answer, it doesn’t tell me anything. It’s registered to a corporation.
Maybe the owner of the parcel contacted our firm about buying them out after they heard about the existing land we’re trying to develop? It wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened. But something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
I could easily ask around town who owns the property and probably get my answer, but that would raise too many red flags, and as of right now, I’m not even sure it’s warranted.
No, I can’t jeopardize this project and my job for nothing.
The front door opens, and I make a mental note to do some more digging on my own.
Baylor bursts into the room and rushes over to me. “Emelia, we went to Deacon’s, and he made a pastry for you.”
Elliott walks into the house after her, and my gaze snags on him. He’s dressed in his usual jeans with a white Henley and a brown flannel shirt, unbuttoned, over it. We share a knowing smile, and I can tell he’s thinking the same thing about me.
And I try not to think about how much I like that we’re on the same page.
I didn’t really see him today because he was busy at the camp, then working on the bunkie and trying to get it back to livable condition. I’m not sure I even want to move back in there at this point.
“Did you hear me?”
Baylor’s voice draws my attention from mentally undressing her father back to her.
“Deacon named a pastry after me?”
She nods enthusiastically. “Yup, it’s called the…” She frowns and turns to look at her dad. “What’s it called, Daddy?”
“Emelia’s Compass. Apparently, you’re looking for true north.”
His words resonate, and I still. Every time I’ve been to the Birdhouse Bakery, it’s only had pastries named after residents. I’m just passing through. I guess I’ll be the first retired pastry.
“I had one. It was really yummy,” Baylor says.
I turn to look at her and smile. “Well then, I’ll definitely try one next time I’m in there.”
Elliott takes off his boots and leaves them at the front door before walking into the room. “Kiddo, why don’t you go play in your room so that Emelia can finish her work? I’ll come play with you in a second.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Baylor returns her attention to me. “Can I do your hair after dinner?”
I love how this little girl’s mind works. We’ll be talking about one thing, then she’ll completely upend the conversation by moving onto something else with zero segue. “Absolutely.”
“Yay!” She runs off to her bedroom, and I turn my attention to Elliott.
He walks toward the kitchen and nods for me to follow.
As soon as I’ve cleared the doorway, he pulls me into him, and his lips land on mine. And like every other time, I melt into him, not wanting to stop. Our kiss doesn’t last long—it can’t, when Baylor is just down the hall—but he rests his forehead on mine after.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” His voice is low, and though his words are innocent enough, his tone feels like an innuendo.
“I’ve been thinking about you too.”
“Were you thinking the same things I was?”
I rest my hands on his chest. “I don’t know. Were you wondering what you were going to make for dinner too?”
He gives me a smack on the ass. “Brat.”
I chuckle and step back before we risk getting caught by Baylor. “How was your day?”
He blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his face. “It was good until I picked Baylor up from school.”
“What happened?”
Elliott tells me about Baylor’s breakdown in the truck on the way home. My chest tightens for her, and I wish so badly that I could do something to make it better.
I take one of his hands. “I feel awful for her, but it sounds like you handled it as best you could, given the situation.”
“It’s not like I never thought the subject would come up. And of course her friends would wonder why her mom isn’t in her life, but I thought I had more time. I mean, kindergarten? Really?”
“No matter what, she has you, Elliott, and that’s what’s going to make all the difference for her. She’s never going to have to wonder if she’s loved. She’ll know.”
I think of my parents. I know there may be moments when Baylor struggles with the knowledge that her mother left, but what’s going to lead her through those feelings and out the other side is the love of her father.
He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Thanks, Em. I hope you’re right.”
I can’t help the smile that slowly creeps across my face.
“What?” Elliott’s forehead creases.
“You called me Em.”
He’s shortened my name once before—at the poker game—but this time feels more special.
“Is that okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s just…I like it, that’s all.”
“Good.” He winks at me. “I should get Baylor’s snack ready before she comes looking for it.”
“All right. I’m going to go text back that woman about my bio mom.”
“You’re ready?”
“Yeah. If your five-year-old can be brave, so can I.”