Chapter 11 Upheaval
"Fae! What are you doing here?"
Her older sister stood there, her long black hair pushed back on the top with a pair of expensive sunglasses, her tailored pants hanging perfectly on her tall, slender body, and her blouse, which she knew would have cost more than five of Tilly's outfits combined, and looked around the space with barely hidden derision.
"You weren't exactly open and communicative over the phone. I heard from mom that you had lost your job, which is a pity by the way," she added with a tilt of her head and forced sympathy that felt plastic. "And that you landed at a motel."
Old shame heated Tilly's face. She could feel Fae taking pleasure in her misfortune.
"Well, like I told mom, this is the historic Crescent Inn and it's clearly not a motel." It would be just like her mom to make small something she had found to be a big responsibility in her new adventure, and it would be just like her sister to grab onto that and run.
She looked around the space taking in everything with the critical eye of Nguyen women in her family. Where she saw things needed updating, she knew her sister saw bulldozers and caution tape.
"Hmm," Fae said with a scrunch to her perfectly pert nose.
They looked similar, in the face. Both Nguyen sisters had dainty facial features and big eyes framed by perfectly shaped black eyebrows. Their chins were works of art, as her grandmother would say.
But where her sister was tall and elegant, Tilly was shorter and had become, well, less slender.
She had learned not to shame herself years ago, but standing here with her sister after not seeing her since Christmas two years ago, it was difficult to push those old criticisms aside.
There was a reason she hadn't gone home for holidays.
She was holding tightly to the healing of her childhood self.
"And how is mom?"
They'd lost their dad a decade ago. He had been the kind of dad that was solid and there, but too often passive.
She missed him in the moments of quiet when she wondered about her future and what she was doing.
She missed him for the rare outings he took her on to the hardware store when he stopped to get her a vanilla iced yeast roll afterward.
Fae heaved a great sigh as she slid the handles of her seven-hundred-dollar purse into the crook of her designer arm. "She's mom."
A typical non-answer from her sister about anyone else's well-being.
"Okay, so in the years that I have lived here, you have never once come to Salem. Which begs the question," she paused for dramatic effect to the annoyance of her sister which showed in the slight purse of her lips, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Her sister's lips pursed impossibly harder. "I cannot believe you would say that to your sister. Your older sister."
Tilly sighed and softened her words. "I'm sorry. You're just not usually one to seek me out."
"Well," she shrugged a shoulder which somehow was an elegant gesture. "I am. Because I just need some support right now."
Tilly frowned. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
"Dustin has asked me for a divorce."
Tilly's mouth opened in silent shock. Dustin, her sister's successful, quiet husband, had always been kind and gentle. Frankly, she'd never understood his attraction to her sister, other than the physical. Where he was kind, she was not. Where he was gentle, she was sharp.
She remembered, rather unfondly, sharing a joke with him during the last family get-together and Fae's shrewd comment later in the pantry.
She'd grabbed Tilly's arm harshly, digging her too-long lacquered nails into Tilly's skin and leaning down close to hiss a warning.
She called her a name. Shamed her and made her feel like trash that the family had to deal with.
And that had been the last time she had gone home.
The following two weeks had been spent in Salem trying to undo the damage her sister and mom had done.
"Well, don't stand there like a stupid fish caught out of water. God, Tilly," her sister admonished and Tilly quickly closed her mouth shut.
"I'm sorry. Do you," she bit her lip trying to understand this dynamic. Where her sister had come to her when she was going through something.
"Just get me a room in this, weird hotel. I need to be away from home and I cannot handle Mom's judgment right now. And here is as good as any place to disappear for a while."
But the way she said it as she looked around with critical eyes implied it was in fact, not a good place to disappear.
"You want to stay here. In this outdated inn that does not have room service or a bellhop," Tilly said in a disbelieving voice.
"Well, no, Tilly. I'd rather stay at a hotel that is to my level of comfort but Dustin," she said his name in disgust that shocked Tilly, "told me to only stick to the one credit card until we figure out our situation.
But if that bastard thinks I am getting anything less than I deserve for being the wife he wanted for years," she laughed.
"Well, he has a fight on his hands. But, for now, I am here. "
Tilly nodded trying to take it all in. "Alright.
So, I have a room available for you," she looked at the few rooms available thinking what would make her the most comfortable and at the last minute veered away from the king suite with the working fireplace and padded seat bay window overlooking the brick street and willows.
It was her favorite room and the only one that didn't need updating because the style choices had stood the test of time.
White intricate crown molding, a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the walls were a perfect french blue and the king-sized four-poster bed was an antique of carved mahogany that royalty in the United Kingdom would love.
The bedspread was a fluffy down comforter of snow white with matching pillows and an overstuffed striped chaise in the corner between the books and the fireplace.
And yet, she chose one with a queen-sized bed covered in a handmade quilt, a fireplace that was not working, and one measly window that overlooked the side of the inn where not much was happening.
The walls were too red and the floor still had carpet that needed to be ripped up to show off the warm honey wood floors.
It would do just fine.
"Alright. Here is your key. Breakfast is in the dining room every morning from seven til ten and on weekends we offer tea and snacks around two."
"How quaint," she murmured passing her a credit card.
Tilly waived it away and told her she could pay when she checked out. And then they both stood there looking at each other.
Tilly waited, wondering what could come out of Fae's mouth if she could be struggling with her husband leaving more than she let on.
And then Fae opened her mouth. "My bags? There are five and they're in the trunk."
Tilly sighed as she took the keys from her sister. As she was getting the last bag up the stairs, her back yelling her a reminder of her age and her sister sitting at the desk looking with a furrowed brow at her phone, she reminded herself this was only temporary.
Her sister would find this place lacking and she would find a way to fix her marriage and go back to her East Coast neighborhood where they had gates and superficial hellos as they did their morning jog in workout gear designed for aesthetic over sweat.
She didn't see her sister for the remainder of the day. Twice she made it halfway up the stairs to check on her, only to turn around, shaking her head as she descended.
Why had she come here? To Tilly? They didn't have the kind of relationship that was invitational. They didn't lean on each other. They rarely checked in with each other.
She ate a late snack on the front porch, enjoying the sunshine as she rocked back and forth. She'd picked up a box of tarts from Eloise that morning, and she was currently eating a blueberry honey one.
The crow sat on the porch railing, seemingly taking in the sun that splintered through the tree cover. She had determined it was a crow rather than a raven.
His or her wings took on a bluish hue where the sun kissed their feathers.
She did leave a strawberry tart with a note for her sister and a pot of tea before she left for the evening.
Walking home was when she swam through her thoughts, as the day was left behind with its tasks and to-dos, her thoughts pulled her into their depths, these days usually revolving around one man.
His stoic face, his statue-like demeanor.
His warm breath against her skin.
Still, the memory sent shivers down her shoulders to her fingertips, which she wiggled and then tightened into fists.
"I should probably name you," she said to the crow who was expertly hopping from one branch to the next above her.
"Oh, do you know Cleopatra? She's a hawk that looks over Eloise.
Is that what you are? A protector sent from the world of magic to look over me?
" Then another thought struck her. Did she need protecting?
Once upon a time, the answer to that had been yes.
"Talking to ghosts?"
The voice made her jump and let out a squeak of surprise. When she turned to a laughing Ronnie, she let out a breath of relief.
"Don't walk up on people like that. Especially a woman alone at night. Why do I have to keep telling men this?"
He smirked. "Yeah, but this is a safe town, and aren't you part of a coven or something?" His words were teasing.
She narrowed her eyes, making him hold up his hands. "I read something about you and The Lost Souls Witches. Pretty interesting read. Crazy, but given the town we're in, it's fun."
"You looked me up?""Not really on purpose.
Saw an article in The Salem Settler and it mentioned you all.
Something about investigating the odd happenings.
So, more interesting offer for the other night?
That new chief was in the article, too. He seems..
.mysterious." He was teasing, but she could feel a thread of something else in his question.