Chapter 12 The Space Between Heartbeats #2
Claire spent an hour at the front desk, processing payments, answering questions, and promising more than once that Wish Weekend would return next year.
People pressed her hand, thanked her again, and left with lingering glances at the chest by the door and the lanterns resting darkly along the porch.
“You have no idea what this meant to us,” one woman said before stepping out.
Claire believed her. She just didn’t quite know what to do with the responsibility.
When the last of the departing guests had gone, the inn settled into a deeper quiet.
A few rooms were still occupied by longer-term visitors, but for the most part, the house breathed easier.
Emma disappeared into the kitchen with her playlist and a list of winter recipes she wanted to experiment with.
Julia claimed the dining room as her temporary office, spreading out her paperwork in neat stacks like a general planning the next campaign.
Claire took a clipboard and moved from room to room, checking for anything that needed attention.
She fluffed pillows, straightened blankets, and opened windows for a brief rush of fresh air.
The drizzle made everything smell clean and bright, a little sharper than usual, the way the world sometimes did the day after something sacred.
In one of the corner rooms, she paused by the window and looked out over the bay. The sky was a wash of soft gray, the water a deeper steel. The string lights along the pier hung unlit. However, she could almost see them glowing, still imprinting the memory of last night onto the present.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket again.
Not Portland this time.
A number she didn’t recognize.
She hesitated, then answered. “Hello, this is Claire.”
The voice on the other end sounded warm and professional, with just enough enthusiasm to suggest someone used to getting people excited.
“Hi, Claire. This is Megan Collins with the Cascadia Story Collective. We partner with local tourism boards and media outlets around the Puget Sound. I got your number from Mariah Reed.”
Claire’s pulse kicked. “Mariah from the festival committee?”
“That’s the one,” Megan said. “She sent us a rough cut of the piece they filmed at your inn. We were really impressed with what you’ve done with Wish Weekend and the Starfall traditions. It’s unique, emotionally rich, and exactly the kind of story we love to highlight.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, caught between surprise and cautious curiosity.
“I was wondering,” Megan continued, “if you and your sisters would be open to expanding this into a feature. Not just for the festival campaign but as part of a series on coastal towns rediscovering their roots. It would mean more filming, some interviews, social media features, that sort of thing. We’d promote the Bayview and Starfall Bay across our network. ”
Claire’s mind spun. A feature. A series. Promotion. Words that belonged to the world she’d left behind in Portland. Words she still loved.
“That sounds… incredible,” Claire said slowly. “Can I ask what kind of timeline you’re looking at?”
“We’d love to come out within the next few weeks to capture winter footage,” Megan said. “Snow days, slow season charm, that kind of thing. Then, depending on how the piece performs, we might consider a longer partnership. Retreat weekends, seasonal events, maybe even a recurring segment.”
A recurring segment. A long-term partnership. Clare swallowed, instinctively glancing toward the hallway as if she could see her sisters through the walls.
“I’d need to talk to my sisters,” she said. “This is their home too.”
“Of course,” Megan replied. “We don’t need an answer today. I’ll email you the details so you can review them. But I wanted you to know we’re very interested. Places like yours have a way of connecting with people. And from what Mariah said, you have a real talent for storytelling.”
The compliment hit an old part of her, the part that used to light up when a creative director praised a campaign or a client signed off on a concept. “Thank you,” she said again, meaning it.
“Take your time,” Megan said. “I’ll include my contact information in the email. And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you say yes,” Megan said. “The world could use more places like Starfall Bay right now.”
When the call ended, Claire stared at her phone for a long moment. Portland wanted her. The collective wanted the inn. Two opportunities, each reaching for different sides of her heart.
She slipped the phone back into her pocket and finished her room checks, but her thoughts kept circling.
She could see it so clearly—herself coordinating with media crews, shaping narratives, planning seasonal campaigns for the inn, using all the skills she had honed in the city but directing them toward something she loved deeply.
It was almost too perfect. Which made it terrifying.
In the early afternoon, she found Julia at the dining room table, surrounded by spreadsheets and notes. A half-empty mug of tea sat forgotten at her elbow.
“Busy?” Claire asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Always,” Julia said without looking up. “But interruptible.”
Claire stepped inside. “I just got a call from someone named Megan at the Cascadia Story Collective. They saw the festival footage. They want to do a feature. Maybe more than one.”
Julia’s head snapped up. “A feature?”
“Yes,” Claire said. “On the inn. On Wish Weekend. On Starfall Bay. They want to come in a few weeks.”
Julia blinked once, twice, the information sinking in. “That’s… big.”
“It is,” Claire agreed. “They’d handle the production, but we’d have to commit. Be available. Plan events. Work with them on story angles.”
“You’d be good at that,” Julia said without hesitation. “It’s literally what you did for a living.”
“I know,” Claire said, a faint tremor in her voice.
Julia leaned back in her chair, studying her sister. “How do you feel about it?”
“That’s the problem,” Claire said. “I feel excited. And scared. And pulled in two directions again.”
“Because of Portland?” Julia asked.
“Because saying yes to one of these might mean saying no to the other,” Claire said.
“If I take the agency job, I could maybe consult on something like this from a distance, but I wouldn’t be here.
In it. If I stay and commit to this feature, it’s like telling Portland I’m choosing this life over that one. ”
Julia was quiet for a long moment. “Can I ask you a question?” she said finally.
“Of course,” Claire replied.
“If Portland wasn’t on the table,” Julia asked, “what would you do with this opportunity?”
The answer came so quickly it startled her. “I’d say yes,” Claire said. “I’d dive in. I’d start planning content calendars, seasonal campaigns, and story series. I’d use every part of my brain I thought I left behind to make this place shine.”
Julia’s gaze softened. “Then maybe that’s worth paying attention to.”
“It feels disloyal,” Claire said. “To the version of me who fought so hard to build a career in Portland.”
“Or maybe it’s loyal to the version of you who’s still growing,” Julia said. “Careers change. Dreams shift. You’re allowed to redirect without it being a betrayal.”
Claire exhaled, feeling the weight of her sister’s words. “Why do you always say the hard things that are annoyingly right?”
“It’s my gift,” Julia said dryly. “Emma bakes comfort. I deliver uncomfortable truth.”
They both smiled, the tension easing a little.
“Talk to her,” Julia added. “Megan. Ask questions. Negotiate. You don’t have to accept or decline on emotion alone.”
“I will,” Claire said.
“And Claire?” Julia’s voice softened. “If you decide to stay and build this… I’m in. All the way. We’ll figure out the logistics, the workload, and the finances. We’ll find a way to make it sustainable.”
Claire’s throat tightened. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Julia said. “I’ve watched you these past weeks. You’re different when you’re working on the inn’s story. Lighter. Stronger. You’re not just surviving here. You’re thriving.”
The words sank deep, settling somewhere she hadn’t realized was still starving for affirmation. “Thank you,” she whispered.
After she left the dining room, Claire headed to the kitchen to find Emma decorating a trial cake with edible stars. Sugar dust sparkled on the countertops like scattered stardust.
“Tell me everything,” Emma said immediately, eyes wide. “You have the look.”
“What look?” Claire asked, amused despite herself.
“The ‘my life is at a crossroads, and I might throw up, but also I might be falling in love with this moment look,” Emma said. “I know it well.”
Claire laughed, the sound easing the tension she didn’t know she was still carrying. “Megan from the Cascadia Story Collective called. They want to feature the inn. Maybe do more. Make us one of their coastal series.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” Claire said. “Julia’s already thinking about logistics.”
Emma set down her piping bag and crossed the room to hug her, powdered sugar and all. “Claire, that’s amazing! This is exactly the kind of thing Mamma would have dreamed about. The world knows what this place really is.”
“I know,” Claire said, hugging her back. “I’m just not sure what to do about Portland.”
Emma pulled back, her expression softening into something more serious. “Can I say something without you thinking I’m just being the emotional sister?”
“You’re always the emotional sister,” Claire teased.
Emma rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m biased. I want you here. I love walking past the office and seeing your mug on the desk. I love hearing your steps on the stairs. I love knowing that if I burn something, you’re five steps away with a fire extinguisher.”
“That’s not a compliment,” Claire said, laughing.
“But I also love you enough to say this,” Emma continued. “The Claire who came back here was exhausted. The Claire who led the lantern walk last night was luminous. I don’t think that came from the job offer in Portland.”
Claire went still.