Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Emma sat on the edge of the bed, pressing her palms into the mattress.
It was firmer than she’d expected, though the queen-size felt luxurious compared to the cramped twin she slept on back in Boston.
The remodeled room had wide-plank shiplap painted an inviting shade of beige, bronze-coated light fixtures, and at least four beautiful quilts draped over a rack by the door.
Even though the snowstorm combined with the fading daylight made it difficult to see much beyond the trees outside, staying in a room with a turret made the grueling journey worth it.
She stood and crossed to the shelf tucked in the corner beside the windows.
A small painting, maybe five by seven, sat propped on a delicate wooden easel.
She traced her fingers along the edge of the canvas, its texture rough beneath her touch, and leaned in to look for the artist’s signature. Her breath caught.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I knew it.”
Her mother had loved this artist’s work. Sally Gibbons was a woman who had grown up on Prince William Sound and built a name for herself with stunning paintings of Alaskan landscapes.
Emma smiled, memories flooding in of her father gifting her mother a framed watercolor one Christmas. It had hung in their living room for years, a small piece of beauty in an otherwise chaotic life. An unexpected lump formed in her throat.
What had happened to all of that art? Had it been left behind, collecting dust? Or worse—damaged? A chill skittered down her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself. They had left so quickly, with only her backpack and a suitcase. So much had been abandoned.
She pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of the watercolor, and typed out a message to her mom.
Emma
Remember this? I’m staying at Lainey’s B&B in Redemption, and this is on the shelf in my room. Whatever happened to all of Sally’s work? You had notecards, watercolor paintings, and larger framed pieces. Just curious.
She attached the photo, then hit send.
A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She set her phone down and crossed the room. When she opened the door, Abbie stood on the other side.
“Good news,” Abbie said with a half smile. “The kids are with Mark. Ready for dinner?”
Emma gave her a high five. “Absolutely. I ate my second breakfast in the Seattle airport, but that feels like a lifetime ago.”
“I thought you’d probably need food and maybe some company. The options are limited right now. Since the tidal wave, some places haven’t been able to reopen yet. Are you up for pizza? Or Italian? Dockside Pizza Company serves salads and chicken tortilla soup if that’s more your vibe.”
“Sounds perfect.” Emma stifled a yawn. It had been a super-long day.
She’d traveled for almost fourteen hours, including two layovers.
But she couldn’t pass up dinner with one of her childhood besties.
She grabbed her purse, put on her coat, and followed Abbie down the long staircase, her fingers trailing over the gorgeous hand-carved wooden railing.
The front door banged shut, and they froze halfway down the staircase.
Lainey stood inside, shedding her jacket, her cheeks splotchy and damp.
She swiped at her face with the back of her hand, then yanked off her pink knit hat and ran her fingers through her short platinum blonde hair cropped in its signature pixie cut.
Without a word, she tossed her hat onto the console table, then plucked a pink gingham apron off the hook and layered it over her red sweater and stylish jeans.
“Uh-oh,” Abbie whispered.
“Hey,” Emma said, stepping down the last few stairs and hurrying toward her. “It’s good to see you, Lainey. Are you okay?”
Lainey sniffed and forced a smile. “Emma. Wow. You’re really here.” Her voice wobbled as she pulled Emma into a warm embrace. “I’m so glad you made it.”
“Me too.” Emma squeezed her tight, then stepped away. “Thanks again for letting me crash in the turret room. It’s gorgeous.”
Lainey tipped her head to one side. “Of course. I wouldn’t let you stay anywhere else. When it’s not snowing, that room has the best light. How was your trip? Long, I bet.”
“Only fourteen hours.” Emma tacked on a smile. “Worth it, though, since I get to see both of you.”
“Aww, that’s sweet.” Lainey headed toward the kitchen. “I’d invite you both to stay for dinner, but I’ve got to get muffins and coffee cake going. Double batch tonight.”
“My goodness, that sounds like a lot,” Abbie said.
Lainey opened a cabinet. “There are still crews of volunteers in town. Most of them are staying at Redemption Resort in the cabins. So a bunch of local small-business owners are teaming up to try to keep them fed while they finish cleaning up after the tidal wave.”
The mention of Redemption Resort served up memories of Luke and his family.
Emma conveniently squashed them and surveyed the kitchen.
It must have been the formal dining room of the house when the original owners built it.
Lainey had converted it into a bright, sprawling space with a soaring ceiling and whitewashed beams. Soft floral curtains framed the tall windows, and gleaming stainless-steel appliances were inlaid against custom cabinets.
A massive island dominated the center of the room, topped with white quartz.
The air held a faint scent of cinnamon and something floral—probably from the lotion or perfume Lainey used.
Lainey disappeared into the pantry, then returned with a mixing bowl in one hand and a huge plastic bin of flour in the other.
Abbie gently tugged Emma’s elbow. “Come on, we should go. Lainey, do you want to come with us?”
“I wish I could, but you go on,” Lainey said. “We’ll catch up later.”
“All right.” Emma followed Abbie toward the front door.
Once they were outside, Abbie turned and said, “Lainey’s stepdad, Gary—do you remember him?”
“Vaguely,” Emma said.
“He’s on disability. The only person in all of Prince William Sound to win his lawsuit against the oil company after the spill. Anyway…he makes life complicated.”
“Sorry to hear that.” The icy wind cut through Emma’s jacket as they walked toward Abbie’s Subaru Outback parked in the driveway. “Where’s Lainey’s mom? And her stepsister?”
“Lainey’s mom divorced Gary and left him a couple years back.
She moved to Idaho. Lainey sees her maybe once or twice a year.
She does not like to come back to Redemption.
And Scottie—Gary’s daughter from his first marriage—is a camera operator, so she’s usually filming on location or traveling to her next job.
I can’t remember the last time she came back to visit. ”
“Wow.” Emma glanced back through the window, where she could see Lainey measuring ingredients into a large mixing bowl. “She always did carry more than her fair share.”
She climbed into the passenger seat. Something crunched under her boot. “Oh no! I’m sorry,” Emma said. “What did I step on?”
“No, I’m the one who should apologize,” Abbie said. “We got takeout the other night, and one of the kids must have left their cup in here.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Emma clicked her seat belt into place. “I’m relieved it wasn’t something valuable.”
“Here, I’ll grab it.” Abbie leaned over and plucked a smushed Styrofoam cup from the floor mat, then set it behind her seat. “Pretend you didn’t see that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Abbie started the engine, adjusted the defrost, then turned up the volume on the stereo.
“Do you know this song?”
Emma shook her head.
Abbie turned it down. “You’re probably not into soundtracks from animated movies, are you?”
“Not really.” Emma chuckled. “I don’t have a lot of, uh, kids in my life. Not that I’m against them,” she quickly amended. “I’d like to have three or maybe four of my own.”
“Wow. Ambitious. I’m assuming your future husband is down with your plans?”
Emma hesitated. “Um, well, he’s a surgeon. So, I guess? To be honest, planning this wedding has been all-consuming, and we haven’t talked too much about kids.”
Abbie shot her a look. “Emma Carlisle, are you telling me you don’t know how many children your fiancé wants?”
“No, I mean, I’m pretty sure he loves kids.” Wow, now she felt foolish. “We’ll talk about it. Eventually. He’s super busy.”
Light snowflakes greeted Emma as she and Abbie stepped out of the car and into the parking lot of Dockside Pizza Company.
The scent of garlic and melted cheese mingled with the salty tang of the harbor, where fishing boats bobbed in the dark water beyond the railing.
Yellow light spilled from the restaurant’s large front windows, and a group of five teenagers exited the one-level building.
Emma scooted out of the teenagers’ way. “We had a lot of good times here back in the day, didn’t we?”
“Sure did.” Abbie smiled, then pulled open the heavy wooden door.
A blast of warmth hit her as Emma went inside, surveying the restaurant’s well-worn charm.
Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, knots darkened and held together with industrial-looking bolts.
Tonight, red-and-white checkered tablecloths and lanterns with candles inside adorned every crowded table.
A young woman stood inside the entrance, staring at her phone.
“Hey, Crystal,” Abbie said. “What’s going on?”
Crystal’s curious gaze darted between Abbie and Emma. “Waiting on a to-go order. You?”
“Enjoying a girls’ night out,” Abbie said. “See you later.”