Chapter 29 Elyse
ELYSE
Iwas arranging a new display of summer thrillers when Grace walked into the bookstore, two iced coffees in hand and her trademark Lilly Pulitzer golf outfit practically glowing in the afternoon sun.
"You look like you swallowed a lemon," she announced, setting one of the coffees on the counter. "And before you say it's your 'concentrating face,' I've known you too long for that excuse to work."
I sighed, abandoning my half-hearted attempt at an eye-catching pyramid of paperbacks. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who's seen all your faces." Grace perched on the stool behind the counter, crossing her legs elegantly. "Including the one when you thought bangs were a good idea in 2018."
"We agreed never to speak of that again," I said, clutching my chest in mock horror.
Grace's laugh filled the quiet store. "So, what's going on? Drew not making it home this weekend? Or is it..." She hesitated, her expression softening. "Holly?"
I picked up the coffee and took a long sip, buying myself time. "Holly's great. Everything's great."
"Mmhmm. And I'm secretly a duchess who writes romance novels as a cover for my international espionage activities." Grace raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "Try again."
I collapsed onto the second stool, deflating like a day-old balloon. "Is it terrible if I admit that being a mom is harder than I expected?"
"It would be terrible if you thought it would be easy," Grace countered. "Parenting a teenager isn't exactly like house training a puppy. Though the sleep deprivation is similar."
"At least Eden doesn't slam doors at midnight because I suggested maybe—just maybe—staying up until three in the morning before she has to work at the bakery wasn't the best idea.
" I rubbed my temples. "I used to be the cool aunt, Grace.
The one who would sneak her extra dessert and take her shopping for inappropriately expensive shoes.
Now I'm the villain who enforces curfews and asks her to switch her laundry. "
"The transformation is complete. You've become..." Grace lowered her voice dramatically, "A Parent."
I groaned. "I just wish there was a manual. 'So You've Suddenly Acquired a Teenager: Now What?'"
"Pretty sure Sarah has that book. Probably highlighted and annotated." Grace took a sip of her coffee. "But seriously, what's really bothering you? Because I know you well enough to know it's not just about bedtimes and homework."
The bell above the door jingled, and we both glanced over to see Mrs. Henderson shuffle in, making a beeline for the large-print romance section as she did every Tuesday. I gave her a quick wave before turning back to Grace.
"I'm afraid I'm going to mess her up," I admitted quietly. "Holly's already been through so much with Rachel. What if I can't be what she needs? What if I'm just making everything worse?"
"By providing stability, love, and boundaries? Yes, how dare you." Grace's tone was dry, but her eyes were kind. "Elyse, that girl is flourishing. Have you seen her lately? Really seen her?"
"Of course I—"
"She walks taller. She laughs. Actual, genuine laughter. Jenna says she's developing her own signature pastries at the bakery." Grace leaned forward. "When she first got here, she was like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Now she's...unfolding."
I blinked rapidly, fighting back unexpected tears. "Then why does it feel like we're constantly at odds? Last night she told me I 'didn't understand anything about her life' because I playfully suggested pink hair dye might eventually damage her hair."
"Because she's sixteen, and that's literally in the job description of every sixteen-year-old since the dawn of time." Grace patted my hand. "Remember when you were that age? You told your mother her meatloaf was 'a culinary crime against humanity' and didn't speak to her for three days."
"That meatloaf was a crime," I protested. "She put raisins in it, Grace. Raisins."
"My point," Grace continued, ignoring my outburst, "is that conflict doesn't mean failure. It means you're doing the work. The real work."
Mrs. Henderson appeared at the counter, clutching three bodice-rippers with shirtless cowboys on the covers. I rang her up, making small talk about her upcoming cruise while Grace flipped through a nearby magazine, the picture of discretion.
After Mrs. Henderson left, I turned back to Grace.
"The thing is, I always thought if Drew and I ever had kids, we'd start from scratch.
We'd get to be the fun parents with the cute baby and the first steps and the kindergarten art projects.
Instead, I'm jumping straight into the deep end with a teenager who has opinions and history and trauma I can't fix. "
"And you think that makes you less of a mother?"
"Sometimes," I admitted. "I missed so many firsts. Her first words, first steps. First day of school. I can't get those back."
Grace set down her coffee cup with a decisive thunk.
"Elyse Bennett, you are being ridiculous.
Motherhood isn't a scavenger hunt where you need to check off every milestone to win the grand prize.
" She fixed me with her no-nonsense stare.
"You get to be there for different firsts.
First job. First heartbreak. First time she drives a car without having a panic attack. "
"Bold of you to assume I won't be the one having the panic attack." I smiled weakly.
"My point is, you're not less of a mother because you missed the beginning of her story. You're exactly the mother she needs for this chapter."
I nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. "I just want to get it right."
"There is no 'right.' There's just showing up, day after day, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard." Grace's expression softened. "You know who told me that? You did, when I was panicking about my first book release party."
"Well, I'm very wise," I deadpanned. "You should listen to me more often."
"And modest too." Grace rolled her eyes. "Look, parenting is basically improvising while pretending you know what you're doing. No one gets a script. But Holly chose you, Elyse. Out of everyone in the world, she wants you and Drew to be her guiding light right now. That counts for something."
"She didn't exactly have a wide selection to choose from," I pointed out.
"Oh please. That girl worships the ground you walk on. She's just not going to tell you that because, again, sixteen."
The familiar chime of my phone interrupted us. A text from Holly asking if she could go to the movies with some friends from her photography class after her shift at the bakery.
"Speaking of the purple-haired wonder," I said, showing Grace the message.
"See? She's asking permission. That's progress."
I texted back a quick "Yes, but home by 10" and added a heart emoji, which felt simultaneously natural and strange. I was still getting used to the cadence of this new relationship—when to hold tight, when to let go.
"You're doing fine," Grace said, reading my expression. "Better than fine."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I needed that."
"That's what I'm here for. That and to remind you that you have spinach in your teeth."
I clapped a hand over my mouth. "What? I haven't even eaten anything green today!"
Grace burst out laughing. "Your face! Priceless. There's no spinach. I just wanted to see you panic."
"You are the absolute worst," I groaned, throwing a bookmark at her.
"And yet you love me anyway," she said smugly, dodging my projectile with practiced ease.
"A decision I question daily," I retorted, but I was smiling now, the weight on my shoulders a little lighter.
"So," Grace said, standing up and smoothing her skirt, "are we still on for ladies league next Tuesday? Paige and I have missed you the last couple of weeks."
"I'll be there. Though I may need something stronger than coffee if Holly and I have another showdown about why three a.m. TikTok sessions aren't conducive to career success."
"I've got a tiny bottle of Fireball with your name on it," Grace promised, heading for the door. "Just remember—"
"I know. I know. This too shall pass."
Grace paused, hand on the doorknob. "I was going to say 'remember to bring more of those lemon bars Drew made last week,' but sure, that works too."
As the door closed behind her, I turned back to my abandoned display, rearranging the books with renewed purpose.
Maybe I didn't have all the answers. Maybe I never would.
But I had friends who wouldn't let me drown in my doubts, a husband who partnered with me in this beautiful, messy journey, and a niece who was quickly becoming more like my daughter, and who was choosing to build a life with us, day by imperfect day.
And at that point, it was all I could ask for.