Chapter 2
charlotte astor
“You can come on back home anytime, darlin’. There’s no shame in it. You know you’re not cut out for all that teachin’ nonsense. Come back, and we’ll have you settled in like you never left.”
I closed my eyes as my mother rambled on about how people like me weren’t meant for teaching or working. In her mind, I was supposed to be back home in Georgia, brewing peach tea with a herd of kids running around while I baked homemade biscuits every morning.
There was nothing wrong with that life—it just wasn’t the one I wanted.
What my mother couldn’t understand was that I craved independence.
I wanted to build something on my own, without relying on the Astor name.
That was why I took a teaching job at an elementary school in the suburbs outside Chicago.
I knew the city itself would be too overwhelming, especially after moving from a small town in Georgia to the Midwest, but I wanted to try something new.
“Ask Jacob,” I said. “He’ll tell you that coming to the North Shore of Chicago isn’t scary. I’m settled into my house, which happens to be a block from the lake.”
“A house we paid for.”
“Yes, Mother. You so graciously paid for with my inheritance.”
Laura scoffed, and then I heard a bustle of commotion. “Stop it. I’m on the phone with her—”
“Charlie?”
I sank into the reading chair in the corner of the apartment.
“Hi, Jacob,” I whispered into the phone. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“You can call or text me anytime, Char. I miss the hell out of you.”
Jacob was my older brother by eleven months.
My parents had us back-to-back, but he’d always taken on the role of a mentor.
Though he was my mother’s favorite and became exactly what she wanted—the model child who followed every expectation to the letter.
He was deep in corporate America, running things from the office on our family’s pecan farm, as they’d always planned.
Meanwhile, I’d been trying to carve out my own path, away from the life Mom mapped out for both of us.
“I know. I need to be better about texting.” I sighed. “Hey, I got to see my classroom today though, so that was cool.”
My brother always supported me, even if that meant letting me go up to the Midwest to live out this dream and gain some independence.
“In Chicago.”
I laughed. “Yes, where they pay teachers better than down there.”
It was one of the main reasons I had picked this area. The pay was much higher than most districts, even in Illinois, so it was hard to say no.
“What grade do they have you teaching again?”
“This year it’s kindergarten.” My goal was to teach first grade, but the only available position was kindergarten.
“That’s amazing, Char. Send lots of photos when you’ve finished decorating it.”
“You got it.”
“Made any friends yet? What about your neighbors?”
Jacob had pushed for me to get an apartment, saying it’d force me to meet people and build a sense of community. Instead, I chose a house a few minutes from the lake. It was a bit lonely, but I’d never admit that since that would mean telling Jacob he was right all along.
“I just moved in. Once school starts, I’ll meet people.”
“Mhmm. I’m looking out for you, Char.”
“I know.”
“Let me talk to Charlotte,” my mother’s voice cut in from the background.
My mom was the only one who still called me Charlotte. After Dad died when I was a teenager, I’d stopped correcting her. It was a small battle to fight in the grand scheme of things.
“Charlotte, honey, I miss your pecan pie. You know it’s never quite the same without you.”
I loved my mom, I really did, but she always had a way of making me feel like I was supposed to be back there, filling the spaces I’d left behind.
“I know, Mama,” I said, forcing a smile, though she couldn’t see it. “I’ll make it for you this Thanksgiving. I promise.”
It was easier to say what she needed to hear, even if it meant another piece of me stayed tied to the life I’d been trying to move on from.
“Alright then, I’ll let you go, Charlotte. Don’t wait too long to come home.”
“I won’t, Mama.”
I hung up and let the silence settle in. The house suddenly felt emptier than before. I glanced around, taking in the bare walls, the still-packed boxes in the corner, the echo of my own thoughts bouncing off the empty space.
I needed something—someone—to fill this place, something that wasn’t tied to expectations or the weight of my family’s dreams.
“Maybe I should get a dog,” I muttered to myself, half joking, half serious.
It wouldn’t solve everything, but it might help fill some of the loneliness creeping in.
This was my life, one I’d chosen, far away from the demands and the suffocating legacy that had always tried to define me.
It wasn’t perfect, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be easy, but it was mine.
Whatever came next, I’d face it head-on.
I was building something that belonged to Charlie, not the Astor family. That was a story worth writing.