Chapter Fourteen ~ Fiona
With spring being the start of the busy season in the tourism industry, I haven’t returned to Honeywell Hollow at this time of year in at least a decade.
The contrast between this tiny Ontario town and the places I usually frequent in the spring—England, Scotland, Ireland, France, and Italy—is stark.
London is in full bloom right now, with its cherry blossoms, magnolia trees, and various flowers bursting in a riot of colour across the city.
Tourists and locals alike flock to the parks and tree-lined streets to photograph the beauty of nature blossoming to life.
Honeywell, on the other hand, is still in that in-between time.
The Spring Equinox was almost a month ago, but the trees are still bare, and nothing more than tiny green shoots of daffodils are poking out of the ground.
A few places around town still have dwindling snowbanks from where plows piled the snow high during the worst of the winter weather.
Having lived away for so long, I nearly forgot how long winter lingers here.
I pass one of those slowly-melting snowbanks now on my way to Sweet Escapes. The only evidence that it is, in fact, spring is the beautiful sunny weather, so I decided to take advantage of that and head to the café for a change of scenery.
The movie crew is filming elsewhere today, but the café is still packed when I step inside.
Mum is bustling around behind the counter, pouring coffee and plating or packing pastries while Regina rings people up.
Mum chats with people and offers her customary cheery smile as she works.
I wonder if anyone notices that the sparkle in her eyes has dulled or that her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes the way it used to.
A hint of that sparkle enters her eyes when she sees me, causing a mix of relief, gratitude, and love to rush through me. I lean over the counter to plant a kiss on her cheek, and she takes my hand, squeezing my fingers.
“You left early this morning,” I say. There was a note waiting for me on the kitchen table when I got up, informing me she’d be at Sweet Escapes for most of the day.
“I had a sudden urge to be around people,” she says, waving at someone over my shoulder. “This seemed like the place to be.”
I can’t help but think that’s a good sign.
Her usual reasons for coming into work are that she needs to catch up on things or oversee this or that, even though she’s trained her staff so well that Sweet Escapes runs like a well-oiled machine.
Before Dad died, Mum was a fixture behind the counter and spent a lot of time interacting with customers around the café.
Since I’ve been home, she mainly stays in the office, usually with the door closed.
She’s also been turning down invitations from friends and neighbours to go out.
As a fellow social butterfly, I was worried she was isolating herself too much, even though I understood her reasons.
Unless people have suffered a similar loss, they can’t understand, no matter how sympathetic or well-meaning they are.
The fact Mum wanted to interact with people feels like a step in the right direction.
Mind you, with the ups and downs of grief, that could change at any moment.
“Need some help?” I ask.
“I think Regina and I have it covered, but thanks,” Mum says. “Why don’t you find a seat and let me surprise you with a treat?”
I’d nearly forgotten this was something we used to do when I was younger.
I often had trouble choosing what I wanted since every single thing in the bakery case looked mouth-wateringly delicious, so Mum would pick for me.
“Sounds perfect. I’m heading for that free table in the back.
” I kiss her cheek again, pleased at the soft, genuine smile she gives me in return.
Once I’m seated, I pull out the notebook and pen in my purse.
I’ve been spending more time online over the last few days, scrolling through social media, and browsing travel blogs for both entertainment and inspiration.
I’ve posted a few travel photos I’d never shared before on my BeSocial account, and they’ve all racked up thousands of likes and comments.
Rather than continuing to post sporadically as I have been, I decided to make a list of things to share, and attempt to stick to a semi-consistent schedule while I’m here.
If I can’t travel right now, I can do the next best thing: inspire others to travel, or at least dream of travelling.
Within a few minutes, an idea for a different list tickles the edges of my brain.
After talking about Ireland the other night with Nathan, I’ve been thinking of all the places I’d suggest to him if he decided to take me up on my offer to help him plan a trip.
I flip to a new page and start jotting down ideas.
Mum swings by the table a few minutes later, wordlessly setting a cup of coffee and a slice of cake in front of me. She plants a kiss on the top of my head, then spins to return to the counter.
“Irish apple cake?” I call after her once I realize what she’s given me.
“I’ve resurrected a few of your dad’s old favourites,” she says.
“A small way to honour him and keep his memory alive.” She jams her hands in the pockets of her apron, her eyes glazing over briefly before she gives her head a small shake.
“Made it myself this morning. I’ve felt inspired to get back in the kitchen lately.
I just hope Aneesha doesn’t mind me encroaching on her territory.
” She tilts her head, and I follow her gaze to see Aneesha and Thea heading in our direction.
“Mind?” Aneesha says. “Learning recipes from the legend herself? I’ll happily share the kitchen with you any day of the week, Mae.”
This elicits another genuine smile from Mum. She tells Aneesha and Thea to take a seat, and says she’ll send over coffee and cake for them too.
“Join me?” I say, thinking of the discussion Nathan and I had about Thea the other night. “I’m glad to see you both. I’m sorry I haven’t made more effort since I’ve been back.”
Aneesha gives me an incredulous look as she slides into the seat across from me. “Are you kidding? Your dad just died.”
Thea plops into the chair beside her. “Yeah, I don’t know how you’re even functioning after such a huge loss.”
“If anything, we should be apologizing to you for not making more effort,” Aneesha says.
The way they carry on each other’s thoughts so easily reminds me of Mila and me. I had no idea Thea and Aneesha were friends, but I’m glad they are, especially since both of them have been through so much.
“How about none of us are sorry, and we just enjoy our time together now?” I suggest.
Their expressions of relief mirror what I feel. Regina brings their coffee and cake a minute later. Mum has disappeared, likely either into the office or possibly even the kitchen.
“Mae seems to be doing a bit better?” Aneesha says, her tentative tone sounding like a question.
“She does,” I agree. “Sometimes it’s a moment-to-moment thing, you know? She’ll be totally fine one minute and then sobbing the next. Fully present and then completely checked out. It’s torture seeing her like this, but I imagine simply existing feels like torture for her right now.”
They both make quiet hums of sympathy. As silence falls over the table, I berate myself for bringing the mood down so quickly.
Thea gives her head a little shake and taps the notebook in front of me. “What are you working on?”
“I’m not sure if you know this, but my dad left his cottage in Ireland to Nathan,” I say.
Thea and Aneesha exchange a glance before nodding.
“Dad wanted Nathan to spend some time there, so I told Nathan I’d help him plan a trip.
I’m not sure if he’ll take me up on the offer, but I started creating a practice itinerary of sorts. ”
“Can we see?” Thea asks.
Surprised by the question, I shrug and slide the notebook across the table.
They huddle together and peruse the list. I didn’t get very far, but I jotted down some of my favourite off-the-beaten-path places, plus a few of the more popular tourist destinations I think Nathan would enjoy.
I also started a list of contacts I’ve made in Ireland over the years, both personal and professional.
“It’s a really rough list,” I say when neither of them speaks. “If Nathan decides he wants my help, I’ll sit down with him, ask him what sorts of things he wants to see, and then create a full itinerary.”
“From scratch?” Aneesha asks. “You’ve done this before?”
“Yes and yes,” I say. “I love planning trips, so I’ve done it for a few friends over the years.”
“I know you already have a job, but could you do this professionally?” Aneesha asks. “Make a business of it? Or even a side hustle?”
“The company I work for has a strict non-compete clause, and getting paid to create tours would fall under that,” I tell her. “If I decided to do it, I’d have to wait a minimum of six months after my contract ended before I could start anything official.”
It’s something I’ve thought about over the years.
Mila and I have even semi-jokingly spitballed ideas for our own company.
Between being happy with my job at On the Go Travels and knowing I’d need a substantial amount of money to not only put into the business but also to support myself until I started making money, it was a ‘maybe someday’ dream that seemed far off and unrealistic.
Until now. Now, I have the time to think about it and a considerable amount of money, thanks to my dad. And while Dad would be thrilled for me to use my inheritance to start my own business, especially a travel-based one, I’m not sure if it’s feasible.
“Too bad,” Aneesha says absently. “But you’d do it for a friend?”
Her imploring tone piques my interest. It must intrigue Thea too, because she asks, “Thinking about a trip, Aneesha?”