Chapter 5
FIVE
HALLIE
As it turns out, Clara isn’t too happy about these new aspirations of mine, and she isn’t afraid to let me know. Maybe it was a mistake to bring the topic up while she’s driving.
“Hallie Foster, you are not moving out. I told you to stay as long as you need to get on your feet!”
I sigh. “And I love you for that, but I can’t keep sleeping on your couch, Clara.” Though where I will sleep is still up for debate. The apartment hunt has been slow going.
She huffs, adjusting her hands on the steering wheel. “You were perfectly content there a few days ago.”
“And then someone declared a wallow-free zone. You can’t have it both ways.”
That isn’t why I need to leave, though. Truthfully, living with Clara has been great. But with each day that passes, it gets harder and harder to keep the dumpster fire that is my life from setting hers ablaze. She doesn’t need my problems.
She turns to me. “That was supposed to be your sign to stop wallowing.”
“Hey, eyes on the road!” I chastise.
Clara huffs again as she turns back toward the windshield, navigating down the long road that connects the more rural parts of the island to the town proper. “All I’m saying is my couch will be lonely without you.”
I laugh. “Oh, I’m sure, but my back will thank me.”
A couple weeks of sleeping in Clara’s living room has really done a number on my spine. She originally offered to share her bed with me, but after years of sleepovers, I’ve learned that isn’t conducive to a good night’s rest. She gets clingy in her sleep, and I need my space.
She pouts. “Do you really have to leave me again?”
Behind her teasing tone, I can sense some truth to her words. Some long-buried hurt. Clara has always supported me, but I know she’s been lonely staying here without me. She’s always had other friends, but most of them have either moved away or are at different stages in their lives.
“I’m not leaving ,” I assure her. “I just physically cannot keep sleeping in your living room.”
“What if I get rid of my couch and buy you a king-sized bed?”
“Don’t you dare!”
She nods. “I would totally do it, you know.”
With another laugh, I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
As Clara guides her car through the familiar gate at the end of the driveway, my nerves come back in full force.
I’ve managed to avoid the infamous Sunday brunch with the Bowmans since I’ve been back on the island, but Maggie cornered me at the gallery two days ago and strong-armed me into attendance.
I am looking forward to seeing everyone again. It’s been a long time since we’ve all been together, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. But seeing Gabe the other day was hard enough. I’m not sure if I’m ready to spend a whole meal with him.
For ten years, my tactic has been avoidance. I thought about reaching out so many times, but then another day or week or month would pass and I’d make myself sick thinking of the hate I was sure I would see in his eyes.
Coming back here means confronting the mess I left in my wake. The only problem is, I’m not sure how to fix it.
Clara parks, and we hop out of the car. The large farmhouse is just as I remember, with its red brick and the porch that wraps around. The newest addition is a sign in the lawn that reads, Haven House Bed-and-Breakfast, established in 2021 .
As I head for the front porch, I look over my shoulder. Clara is still standing beside her bright red Beetle, head bent over her phone as her thumb flies across the screen.
“You coming?” I ask.
Her head pops up, and a knowing smile slides across her lips. “Yup! Just confirming something for Delilah,” she says, slipping her phone into her back pocket. She skips toward me, looping her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”
I don’t have time to analyze her odd behaviour because as soon as we step inside, a German shepherd bounds toward us.
Riot belongs to Luke, and although I’ve only met him once when Clara took him for a walk, the dog greets me like an old friend.
I give him a good scratch between the ears, earning myself a lick on the arm.
When we make it to the kitchen, I pause in the doorway.
The Bowmans have made some upgrades over the years, but this is still the same kitchen I used to bake cookies in with Clara and Maggie.
Gabe would hang around, too, but only to steal some of the raw dough.
His mother would smack his hand lightly with a spatula, then shoo him out of the room.
He’d only laugh, throwing me a smile on his way out.
A hand touches my shoulder, and then Clara’s father is grinning down at me. “Nice to see you again, kid.”
“Hi, John,” I say with a smile.
Looking at him, I briefly wonder if I’m glimpsing Gabe’s future. While Luke looks the most like their father, Gabe shares a lot of his traits, too. I quickly shake the thoughts from my head.
Before I can say more, Clara’s mother swoops in and envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. While Gabe and Luke take after their dad, Clara is all their mom. Maggie’s blonde hair has a little more grey in it than I remember, but her eyes are still bright.
“ Oh , it’s so good to have you back, sweet girl,” Maggie says. “We missed you.”
The affection in her tone makes tears well in my eyes. I furiously blink them back as I return her hug just as tight. “I missed you, too.”
She pulls back and then touches a hand to my cheek before turning away. “Alright, go take a seat. The food will be ready shortly.”
I know better than to argue. After Clara and her brothers set fire to the oven when we were ten, Maggie has had strict rules about who is allowed in her kitchen. Besides that, I know she likes taking care of everyone, and she shows that love through the food she makes.
I make my way over to the table, spotting two more familiar faces.
“Hey, Hallie!” Delilah says with a smile.
Luke, with his arm slung over the back of her chair, nods. “Morning.”
“Hey.” I quickly scan the room. “Are Parker and Sophia here, too?”
Since being introduced to her, I’ve learned that Delilah has custody of her siblings, and I met them briefly at Dockside last night. While her teenage brother had an air of aloofness to him, her younger sister was incredibly shy. I can’t blame her. I’m not too fond of strangers either.
“Parker’s hanging out with a new friend today. Soph is upstairs playing with Abbie, though.”
Abbie. Gabe’s daughter. She and Sophia must be around the same age, so it makes sense that they’ve become friends.
Following Maggie’s instruction, I take a seat beside Luke.
At their old kitchen table, when it was just the Bowmans and me, we all had our usual chairs.
Maggie and John would each sit at one end.
Clara and Gabe would be placed on opposite sides, diagonal from one another, because they used to bicker when they sat side by side.
Luke would sit to Gabe’s left, and I would sit on Clara’s.
Which meant I was always directly across from Gabe.
But it’s been a long time. This table is new, bigger, and there are more people now. With Luke sitting beside Delilah, I’m not sure where that leaves everyone else. Maybe it’s a free-for-all every week.
At least some things never change. The faint sound of music in the background is a balm to my soul. If anything reminds me of home, it’s that.
When the music changes, Luke sighs. “Do we have to listen to this song every week? We got it the first time, Gabe.”
“It’s part of the playlist now,” he says as he comes into the kitchen. Abbie and Sophia trail behind him.
Delilah laughs good-naturedly. “I like it. It reminds us of our first brunch together,” she says to Luke, leaning into his side.
He grunts, but he makes no more complaints as “Hey There Delilah” continues to play.
Maggie and John start bringing plates of breakfast foods over as the girls settle in their seats. Clara sits beside her niece. Which leaves the chair opposite me empty.
Oh, God .
Gabe drops into his seat, letting his gaze settle on mine. “Hey, Foster.”
I’m sure it’s a figment of my imagination, but I swear all the adults in the room are watching us with bated breath. Waiting to see what will happen now that Gabe and I are stuck in a room together for the next hour.
“Hi,” I squeak.
They’re definitely staring at me now .
“You’re the lady from the store,” Abbie says, taking some of the attention off me. She shifts in her chair, sitting on her knees so she can lean over the table, closer to me.
I smile. “I guess I didn’t get to properly introduce myself, huh? I’m Hallie.”
“She’s Aunt Clara’s best friend,” Gabe adds. “We all went to school together.”
“So you’re Daddy’s friend, too?”
I used to be , I almost say. But explaining our complicated history and what went wrong to a six-year-old doesn’t seem like the right move.
My gaze flits to Gabe briefly before returning to Abbie. “Yes. I’m his friend, too.”
Thankfully, everyone begins to eat, and conversation moves to other things. Safer things. I manage to sit and observe for a while before I’m forced to talk about myself, something I’d much rather avoid.
“Carole says you’ve been a great help with the gallery,” Maggie says. “But I hope Clara isn’t driving you too crazy in that apartment of hers.”
“Hey!” Clara says. “I’m the perfect host, thank you.”
I laugh. “Clara has been great, and working for Carole has been fun. Now I just need to find a place of my own.”
A place that costs me zero dollars, preferably .
Though in today’s market, I’d be more likely to find a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
At least I was fortunate enough to finish paying off my student loans a few months ago, and I do have a decent amount in my savings because my recent nannying gig paid well, but that will only stretch so long.
“Any luck?” John asks.
I blow out a breath. “None so far. But it’s okay, I’ll keep trying. Something is bound to come up.”
“Why don’t you move into one of the rooms here?” he suggests. “We won’t charge you, of course.”
While Haven House is more than big enough, I don’t want to take advantage of their generosity. I feel bad enough mooching off of Clara.
Before I can come up with an excuse to decline, Maggie interjects. “Oh, John, she can’t. We’ve got that thing happening next week.”
He turns to his wife with a raised brow. “What thing?”
“You know, Dad,” Clara says, as if it’s obvious. “Those guys are coming to rip into the walls. All the rooms will be torn apart.”
Maggie nods along. “Yes, honey. Because of the termites. Remember?”
I gasp. “You have termites ?”
“Really big ones,” Delilah adds. She nudges her boyfriend in the side. “Right, Luke?”
It takes him a second, but then he nods. “Right… Definitely don’t want to mess with those, Hallie.”
“I, uh—” John scratches his chin as he looks from his wife to me. His expression is wary, but he acquiesces. “It appears we do… Sorry, Hallie. I misspoke.”
I narrow my gaze, more than a little suspicious of their strange behaviour, but then I shake my head. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll find something.”
“I think I have an idea,” Clara says. We all turn to her, and the gleam in her eye has my stomach twisting into a knot. That look is nothing but trouble. “Gabe, why don’t you let Hallie move into your guesthouse?”
My gaze slides to him, and in some cruel twist of fate, his eyes are already on me. They flick briefly to his sister before settling back on me.
He clears his throat. “It’s not exactly in the best condition.” He palms the back of his neck. “I’ve been meaning to work on it, but I’ve been putting it off.”
Clara casually pops a sliced strawberry into her mouth. “Hallie can help you!”
“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Maggie beams, and I die a little inside. “You were such a big help with decisions when we were renovating, Hallie. I’m sure between the two of you, you’ll get the job done in no time.”
While the offer is tempting, the thought of being in such close proximity to Gabe has me slightly terrified. I haven’t been alone with him in over ten years. I’m not afraid of him , per se, so much as the memories he brings up. The memories of all the mistakes I’ve made.
Besides, like his twin, Gabe has always had this uncanny ability to see straight through my facade. If I move into his guesthouse, he’ll be that much closer to unravelling me.
“It’s literally perfect,” Clara adds, driving the last nail right into my coffin. The coffin she’ll have to bury me in when I pass away from extreme embarrassment.
“Gabe?” Maggie prompts. “What do you think?”
Please say no. Please say no .
“It’s alright with me,” he says, apparently unaware of my inner turmoil. “Foster?”
The whole table is looking at me now, waiting for a response. I can feel myself start to sweat under the scrutiny. They mean well, I know they do, but I also hate them a little for putting me on the spot like this.
“I guess…” I swallow to clear the uncertainty from my tone. “I guess I’m moving in, then.”