Chapter 18
Emily played her violin for the rest of the evening, then drove home. She hadn’t been sure how late the event would go, but knowing Dalton was there with Myra, she hadn’t worried.
She was back in enough time to start her shift.
Surprisingly, Myra had already retired for the evening.
“Was she feeling okay?” Emily couldn’t stop the surge of concern. “She doesn’t normally go to bed this early.”
“Well, she beat me at Scrabble and told me I was losing my edge.” His lips curved. “I’d say she was feeling pretty good.”
Emily smiled.
“Can I interest you in a glass of wine?”
“I’d love a glass.” Setting down her violin case, Emily turned to get the bottle and a glass, but Dalton motioned her down.
“I’ll get it.” Setting aside his wineglass, he rose and gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Relax. I’m betting you were on your feet most of the evening.”
As a matter of fact, once the reception had begun, Emily hadn’t sat down once.
In minutes, she had a glass of red in her hand as she sat on the floral sofa, Dalton in the chair opposite.
“Are you sure your grandmother is okay?”
“She was in an excellent mood. She informed me she’s been asked to be a substitute in some card group. And also that she was asked to head the planning committee for the Maplewood Park renovation.”
“They’re lucky to have her. Because of her work on the renovation at Funland, she has the expertise they need.”
“I’m curious.” Dalton relaxed against the back of the chair. “How did they discover she has that experience?”
“I mentioned it to them.” Emily shrugged. “I had no idea if she’d be interested in taking on such a leadership role, but it appears she is interested. It’s a good fit.”
“I’m hoping this means she’ll have the surgery.”
“I hope so, too.”
“Enough about Gran.” Dalton focused those intense blue eyes on her. “Tell me about your evening. How was the wedding?”
“Beautiful. So lovely.” Emily’s lips curved. “The reception was amazing, too. The Manse outdid themselves on the food. I saw Jaclyn and Chloe. They were busy, and so was I, so we didn’t have a chance to talk.”
“Who was there I might know?”
Sipping her wine, Emily considered. “It was mostly an older crowd. The younger guests were ones you’d expect—Joe and Sophie, Hannah and Charlie and, of course, Daniel and Jenna. Dr. Moorhead’s son—I believe his name is Sawyer—was there, along with Annie Laggett.”
The Laggett family, Emily knew, were longtime friends of the Edwards family.
“That’s it?”
“Like I said, it was definitely an older crowd. I didn’t fit in.” Emily heard the wistfulness in her voice. The truth was, she didn’t fit in anywhere. Not anymore. “I told myself that I wasn’t there to socialize. I was simply there to do a job.”
“Yes, but I hope you had a little fun, too.”
Emily nodded absently.
Much of the good feelings she had carried with her from the reception had faded. She realized even if she had been there as a guest, it wouldn’t have been the event she’d looked forward to a couple of months earlier with eager anticipation.
“Have you ever thought what you’d do if you had a chance to start over?” The question popped out before she had a chance to pull it back.
Dalton studied her for a long moment. His eyes turned soft.
“That’s what you’re doing now—starting over.” Instead of answering, Dalton had turned the question back to her. “Are you regretting leaving Baltimore and the symphony? Leaving your friends?”
He’d gotten it wrong. So very wrong.
She didn’t correct him.
“When I made my choice, I was excited, and okay, a little scared. I wanted to spread my wings and chart my own course. I felt as if my previous choices had never really been my own.”
“I can see where being a concertmaster could take over your life and be all-consuming.”
A logical assumption, but again, a faulty one.
“The lack of choice started way before the symphony. It began in my childhood when my mother died. I was only nine, and suddenly it was just me and my dad. Choices available to many other kids at the time weren’t open to me. My father needed my help. A normal childhood was out of reach.” Emily shifted her gaze to the fireplace hearth, cold and dark. She wondered why she’d brought this up.
Because you need someone to talk with, to bounce thoughts off of.
Yet that begged the question, Why Dalton?
When she looked into his sympathetic blue eyes, what was murky became clear. This was someone she could trust.
She expelled a shaky breath and tightened her fingers around the stem of her wineglass. “When I was twenty-five, I met someone, and we became engaged. My wedding was fast approaching when my father had a stroke. He needed me. I couldn’t abandon him. I don’t regret my choice to care for him, even though it cost me a relationship.”
“You were a good daughter.”
Emily shook her head. “Anyone would have done the same.”
“Not anyone,” he said softly.
“Yes,” she insisted. “At least if their father was like mine.”
“You were lucky in that regard.”
“I guess I was. But I sometimes wonder what my life would have be like if I hadn’t been placed in such circumstances.” Emily cleared her throat. “Coming here was to be my new start, my opportunity to finally focus on me, on what I want.”
“New starts can be rocky.” Dalton twirled the stem of his wineglass between his fingers. “There is one thought that occurs to me.”
Trying to ignore the knot forming in the pit of her stomach, Emily set down her glass.
“If you really want to carve out a different kind of life, caring for my grandmother isn’t doing that.” Dalton’s gaze never left her face. “You’re simply repeating what you did for your father.”
After finishing the glass of wine she no longer wanted, Emily excused herself on the pretext of being tired, his observation circling in her head.
Once back in her room, Emily found it difficult to settle.
Was Dalton right? Was she simply following old patterns even when given the opportunity to live life differently? Yet, with her money supply dipping into the danger zone, she’d needed a job and a place to stay. Had she really had a choice?
Emily wished Irene were here to advise her.
Striding to the dresser, Emily pulled out the box of letters, then rummaged through it until she found the letter she sought. She’d written it to Irene just after Vince had given her his ultimatum.
Dearest Irene,
If ever there was a time I need your wise counsel, it is now. Vince has made it clear he is moving to Baltimore to start his new job, with or without me.
He still wants to marry me, but says the job he accepted will not wait. He offered to find a place for my father, one that would offer him excellent care, and says that I may visit him as often as I desire.
I cannot seem to make Vincent understand my reluctance, even though I have explained that GraceTown is my father’s home. It is where his friends are and where his physician is. Also, the hotel will need someone to oversee it until my father is better, and right now there are not the funds to hire or pay anyone.
You remember how good Papa was to me when my dear mama passed. He could have sent me to live with relatives, as many men do when they are widowed with young children, but he did not.
As I write this, I see that the heart of the matter is that I want to be the one to care for Papa until he is better, not put him away to be cared for by strangers.
There was more, pages and pages more. Once she’d gotten started writing, emotions had flowed out onto the paper like the water flowing in Cripple Creek after a heavy rain.
Writing the letter and picturing Irene, who’d known her better than anyone else, had helped. By the time she’d finished writing, it had become clear that Vince would be going to Baltimore, and she wouldn’t be with him.
She’d given Vince his ring back and freed him of his obligation.
Deep down, she’d hoped that perhaps when her father was back on his feet, they…
Emily remembered clearly holding on to that scrap of hope during the following two years. Years in which her father had worked hard to walk again, to speak clearly. He’d nearly been able to function independently when he’d been felled by another stroke. Twenty-three months after his first stroke, he’d passed away.
After carefully placing the letter back where she had found it, Emily pushed to her feet and began to pace.
She had told herself that she’d accepted the position at Myra’s home because it gave her everything she’d needed at the time—a roof over her head, an income and relative freedom.
Then why did Dalton’s comment continue to niggle at her? Was she really squandering her do-over?
Taking out a sheet of paper, Emily began to write. But, for the first time, she couldn’t picture Irene’s face.
The pen faltered in her hand, and she set it down.
What was happening? Was this disconnect because of the elixir? Had the gift she’d been given affected her in more ways than simply the physical?
She was the same person, wasn’t she?
Yes,she thought,but no.
Being young again, having people interact with her as a woman in her prime of life rather than a woman nearing the end of her life, provided different experiences.
She was not the same woman who’d swallowed the elixir. Yet, if Dalton was right, she was simply repeating the past in a different way.
Emily flung herself on the bed, buried her face in the pillows and let the tears fall.
Had drinking the potion been a mistake?
She’d yearned to carve out a life for herself without all the obligations and restrictions she’d faced during her life.
Now that she had the chance, she found herself scared, unsure and, most of all, incredibly lonely.
The next morning, Emily found Myra in the parlor at the game table, papers strewn before her.
“May I join you?” Emily asked, standing in the doorway. “Or are you working on something that needs total concentration and quiet?”
She figured asking this way allowed Myra to graciously say that she wanted to be left alone. Emily always kept in mind that this was Myra’s home, not her own.
Looking up, Myra smiled and motioned Emily forward. “Please, join me. I’m working on several names that are particularly difficult. I hoped I might have better luck when I’m fresh.”
“I’m happy to help.” Emily took the seat opposite Myra. “If you’d like.”
“I’d love your assistance and your company.”
The housekeeper approached. “Mrs. Edwards, if there is anything you’d like to add to the grocery list, I’ll be turning it in later today.” Mrs. Fairfax glanced at Emily and smiled. “Good morning, Emily.”
When the woman was out of earshot, Emily finally asked the question she kept meaning to ask. “Why the formality? I call you Myra, and you call me Emily. She’s worked for you for years, but it’s still so formal between you.”
“It’s her choice, not mine.” Amusement flickered in Myra’s eyes. “I would prefer different, but I respect her request.”
Emily nodded.
“Tell me about the wedding.” Myra set down the pencil in her hand.
Keeping it light, Emily gave Myra a rundown on the evening.
“It sounds perfectly lovely,” Myra said when she’d finished. “I’m extremely happy to hear that the food from the Manse was a hit.”
“Jaclyn appears to have found her niche.” Emily’s smile faded. “I wish I could find my calling.”
The questioning look in Myra’s eyes had Emily admitting, “I woke up this morning to two rejection letters in my inbox.”
“What kind of rejection letters?”
“From two out of the three private schools I applied to.” Emily expelled a breath. “I’m not exactly sure what to do next. I only know I don’t want to go back to playing with a symphony.”
Myra took a sip from her glass of what looked like raspberry lemonade. “Why not?”
A straightforward question demanded a straightforward answer.
“Playing with a symphony takes over your life. Or, at least, it can.” Emily met Myra’s questioning gaze. “As much as I love music, and I adore playing the violin, I want more out of my life.”
“What are you considering?”
“For me, teaching in a school system would be ideal. It would allow me to incorporate my love of teaching with my love of music. Unfortunately, there’s only one school left that’s a possibility.”
“Which one is that?” Myra asked.
“Crestwood Academy.”
“It’s an excellent school. Walt went there, as did Kenneth.”
“From what I’ve read, it has a robust music program. If the position there doesn’t come through, I’m thinking I could teach one-on-one. Either online or in person or both. I’m also looking at what opportunities are available as a music therapist at a hospital or retirement community.”
“All good options. Before you put too much pressure on yourself to get it right the first time, just remember that whatever position you take doesn’t have to be a forever kind of thing. You give it a try, if it doesn’t work, you try something else.” Myra offered a supportive smile. “I believe you’ll do well no matter what path you choose. You’re a well-educated woman with amazing people skills and incredible musical talent. That’s a recipe for success in any book.”
Emily’s heart swelled. “Thank you.”
“If you need a regular paycheck until you find something that’s more what you’re looking for, I’d be happy to speak with Ken and see if he has any openings at the Oasis.”
“I appreciate the offer, I really do.” There had been a time not that long ago that Emily would have jumped at the chance to work at the Oasis, side by side with Chloe. “But I fear I won’t get anywhere if I hold on to the side of the swimming pool.”
Puzzlement filled the older woman’s eyes. “What swimming pool?”
“It’s a metaphor for not going all in. For not taking risks.” Emily hesitated. “It happens when a person is unwilling to let go of the safe and the familiar. Being adventurous is difficult for me since I’m also pragmatic.”
Myra quirked an eyebrow. “Some might disagree with you on that point. After all, is it pragmatic to quit a steady job and move to a city with no job and no connections?”
Emily gnawed her lip. It was still easy to forget that people knew her only as Emily, not Til. “It was, when I had savings to fall back on, at least for a while.”
Myra nodded in agreement. “While being pragmatic is good, I applaud your efforts to go after what you want. When I look back on my life, all of my regrets are from when I played it safe.”
The next morning, Emily agreed to accompany Myra to Maplewood Park, where they would meet with the women on the renovation committee.
“Beverly is bringing homemade cinnamon buns,” Myra told her on the drive over. “I offered to bring something, but she made it clear they had today’s treats covered. Geraldine told me to enjoy and warned that my turn is coming.” Her lips turned up in a little smile. “Geraldine is a real character. You can’t help but love her.”
Emily only nodded and wheeled the vehicle into the park’s small parking lot. She didn’t want to say too much and give away just how well she knew these women.
They found Beverly, Geraldine, Lisa and Jenna in the process of setting out the treats on a rickety old picnic table.
Someone had had the forethought to bring a red checkered oilcloth to spread across the table.
When she and Myra strolled up, the women turned.
“I hoped you’d bring Emily.” Beverly offered her a welcoming smile. “This way, we have two young ones to keep us oldsters on track.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “I’m glad Emily is here, too, but we all know you ‘oldsters’ can run rings around us youngsters.”
Geraldine chuckled. “No argument here.”
The comment made everyone laugh.
“I took the liberty of outlining nine steps necessary to move forward with this project.” Myra pulled six sheets of paper from her handbag. “I made copies for everyone.”
Jenna took one and quickly scanned the document. “In order to determine how the improvements align with community needs and interests, we probably should contact the city planning commission for that information.”
“Good idea.” Myra smiled. “Will you handle that?”
“Happy to,” Jenna agreed.
Emily hid a smile. It was the old you bring it up, you get assigned the task.
“Today, we should be able to complete number two on the list.” Geraldine pointed to the paper she’d placed to the right of the plate holding her cinnamon bun. “We can easily identify the areas that need improvement.”
“Which is pretty much everything,” Beverly quipped, earning a smile from everyone.
Emily tapped her lips and considered. “We might want to speak with someone at Leaves of Green and get the names of landscape architects they recommend. Get the ball rolling in that area.”
“Fabulous suggestion.” Myra gave an approving nod.
“Is that something you could handle, Emily?” Lisa asked. “If not, I?—”
“I’d be happy to take that on.” Emily told herself that even if she did get one of the jobs she’d applied for, this task would involve making only one quick phone call.
“I can research the necessary approvals and permits.” Lisa smiled. “As a librarian, this kind of research is right up my alley.”
“Thank you, Lisa.” Myra offered the woman a warm smile. “Your expertise is very much appreciated.”
Geraldine had brought her tool kit, so after they finished eating, she worked her magic on several unsteady benches that would likely need to be replaced. “I could fix the merry-go-round, but it’s the type no longer used because of safety concerns.”
“Best to leave it as it is,” Jenna announced, and the others nodded in agreement.
Once a list had been made of areas needing improvement, they set another date and time to meet and headed home.
When Emily and Myra arrived home, they found Ken pacing the porch.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, hurrying down the steps to meet them as they stepped from the Lincoln. His gaze narrowed on his mother. “Why haven’t you answered your phone?”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone, Kenneth.” Myra’s eyes turned cool. “I’m sorry I worried you. I left my phone at home. I was at a meeting of the Maplewood Park renovation committee. And, before you ask, the AED is in my bag.”
Wanting to give the two some privacy, Emily turned, intending to slip into the house.
Myra stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Before you go, thank you for today.”
Conscious of Ken’s eyes on her, Emily only shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. Except drive you over.”
“You did far more, and you know it.” Myra squeezed her arm. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Emily turned back to Ken. “Nice to see you again.”
Once inside, Emily learned from Mrs. Fairfax that Ken was there to take his mother to an appointment with her cardiologist.
Emily pulled her brows together. “It surprises me that Myra forgot about the appointment.”
Mrs. Fairfax, a thin woman with steel-rimmed glasses that matched her hair, waved an airy hand. “Mr. Edwards said something about the visit being the result of a last-minute cancellation. He probably assumed she’d be here. After all, until you came along, she never went anywhere.” The housekeeper fixed her gaze on Emily. “You’ve changed her life.”
“I haven’t—” Emily began.
“I heard her telling Mr. Edwards yesterday that she’s seriously considering having the surgery.” Mrs. Fairfax’s expression remained serious. “That’s likely what this appointment is about. You may soon find yourself out of a job.”
Emily smiled. “I can’t think of a better reason to get the boot.”