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Simon helped her to her feet, his armnever leaving her shoulder as he guided her up the staircase to her room. Theinn seemed to envelop them in its ancient comfort, the creak of the floorboardsunderfoot a familiar song.
Once in her room, Simon helpedCharlotte into bed, tucking the blankets around her with a care that spokevolumes. He slid in beside her, his presence a solid reassurance until hertears subsided and her breathing evened out, the emotional storm giving way tothe quiet calm that precedes sleep.
Charlotte's mind, however, was far fromquiet. As she drifted on the edge of consciousness, images of Henry, Liam, andRoxanne danced behind her eyelids—each face a piece of the puzzle that was herlife, each one carrying a myriad of emotions and unanswered questions.Roxanne's absence felt like a gap, an open wound that echoed Charlotte's fearsand hopes for her sister's wellbeing.
Despite the turmoil within, theexhaustion of the day's revelations—and the safety of Simon's promise tostay—lulled Charlotte into a fitful sleep. Her second to last coherent thoughtwas a hope that Roxanne would find her way home, that they could face thefuture as a family, no matter how fractured, together. Charlotte’s last thoughtwas that, in the morning, she would go find Henry, no matter what.
Outside, the rain had ceased, leavingbehind a silence that blanketed Chesham Cove. In the deep of the night,Charlotte slept, her dreams a tangled tapestry of past hurts and uncertaintomorrows, Simon's steady breathing a comforting counterpoint in the quietroom.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The insistent chirping of an alarmclock, distant yet persistent, tugged Charlotte from the depths of sleep. Hereyelids fluttered open, protesting against the intrusion of daylight thatspilled through the lace curtains. With a soft groan, she rubbed the sleep fromher eyes and cast a glance at the clock on her bedside table. The hands pointedaccusingly at half-past nine.
She panicked for a moment—but thenremembered that it was Sunday and that she had no guests at The Crown untiltomorrow.
Her next thought was of Simon. Shefumbled for her phone to see a message from him. Gone to the pier for a bit.If you need me, please call.
If Simon wasn’t still in bed, who wasthe lump beside her?
"Roxanne," Charlottewhispered, turning her head to look at her sister's form, wrapped in an embracewith the duvet. Roxanne lay still, save for the gentle rise and fall of herchest accompanied by soft, rhythmic snores. It was a sound that was familiarand oddly comforting.
With care not to disturb Roxanne'sslumber, Charlotte eased herself out of bed, feeling the cool morning air kissher bare feet as they met the wooden floor. She tiptoed across the room, hermovements silent and fluid—a dance she had perfected to avoid creakingfloorboards when she’d been a teenager.
Descending the grand staircase of TheOld Crown Inn, Charlotte felt the weight of the manor's history in everypolished banister and worn step. She thrived on such details—the way themorning light played off the stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopicpatterns on the walls, each telling stories of bygone eras. In the receptionarea, dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight, and Charlotte paused amoment to let the serenity of the inn wash over her. Gone were the days of NewYork's relentless hustle; here, time seemed to move to the gentle rhythm of thesea just beyond the cliffs.
She checked the time on her phoneagain, its screen harsh against the muted tones around her. A frown creased herforehead. She noticed a notification on her phone—and realized that it was avoicemail from cousin Agnes’s second call the prior day.
Charlotte pressed the voicemail button,bringing the phone closer to her ear. As the message played, her heart began torace. It was Agnes, her voice laced with urgency and a hint of panic."Charlotte, dear, I hope this message finds you well. I just wanted to letyou know, Henry has been spotted in town, near the florist on Main. I know thismight be unsettling news, but I thought it best you hear it from a friend. Takecare, and please call me back as soon as you can."
A sigh escaped Charlotte's lips. Ifonly she had checked this message before the unexpected confrontation in thestore, perhaps she could have prepared herself better, or even avoided theencounter altogether. The missed opportunity gnawed at her, a reminder of theunpredictability of life, especially lately.
Shaking off the feeling of what couldhave been, Charlotte made her way to the laundry room. The cool, slightly dampair greeted her, mingling with the scent of lavender detergent. She found apair of jeans and a simple t-shirt in the dryer—thankfully clean and dry. Shequickly dressed in the laundry room, appreciating the mundane normalcy of thetask after the emotional tumult of the past few days.
After slipping into her shoes,Charlotte scribbled a vague note for Roxanne, leaving it on the kitchen counterwhere her sister was sure to see it. The note simply read, "Had to stepout for a bit. Back soon. Call if you need anything. -C." She didn't havethe heart to delve into the complexities of her morning quest, not wanting toworry or upset Roxanne any further.
With a deep breath, Charlotte steppedoutside, locking the door behind her. The air was crisp, the sky a clear,unblemished blue that stretched endlessly above. She made her way down thewinding path that led from The Old Crown Inn to the main part of town, her mindracing with thoughts of what she would say to Henry when she found him.
As she walked, Charlotte couldn't helpbut feel a sense of apprehension. The confrontation in the store had opened oldwounds, but it had also ignited a flicker of hope—hope for understanding, forclosure, and perhaps even for reconciliation. Now, with each step toward theheart of town, Charlotte felt that flicker growing stronger, guiding her on thepath that lay ahead.
Her destination was uncertain, and sheknew finding Henry wouldn't magically mend the fractures of the past. But asthe familiar sights of Chesham Cove came into view, Charlotte realized thatsometimes the journey toward healing began with a single, tentative stepforward. And today, she was ready to take that step.
As she passed the quaint storefrontsadorned with hanging flower baskets still damp with morning dew, Charlotte'sgaze darted from face to face, searching for the familiar lines of her father'scountenance. But the villagers who bustled by seemed more like watercolor blursin a painting, indistinct and fleeting in their morning routines.
She turned the corner at the bakery,where the warm, yeasty scent of freshly baked bread wafted into the street. Itwas comforting, yet today it failed to settle the unease that knotted herstomach. With a determined stride, Charlotte made her way to the local café,its windows steamed up from the warmth inside.
"Morning, Charlotte!" greetedMrs. Jenkins as she pushed open the door. The bell above tinkled, announcingher presence to the half-occupied tables.
"Good morning," she replied,her voice steady despite the worry that thrummed beneath her words. "Haveyou seen anyone new in this morning for breakfast? And older man, maybe withhis teenaged son?"
Mrs. Jenkins leaned on the polishedcounter, her dishtowel-draped shoulder lowering slightly. "I'm afraid not,Charlotte," she said, brows knitting together. Her eyes held a glimmer ofconcern. "Everything alright?"
Charlotte offered a tight-lipped smile,though her heart sank like a stone in the depths of uncertainty."Fine."
"Ah, well, let me know if there'sanything I can do to help," Mrs. Jenkins said, giving her an encouragingpat on the arm before attending to another customer.
"Thank you," Charlottemurmured, stepping back onto the cobbled lane. Her father's absence hung overher like a heavy mist, impenetrable and cold. Yet, as she looked up at theseagulls flying high above the rooftops, she couldn't shake the feeling thatjust like them, Henry was somewhere out there, beneath the vast expanse of sky,waiting to be found.
Charlotte's footsteps echoed throughthe village square, her gaze darting from one familiar face to another. Thequaint boutiques and cozy eateries of Chesham Cove were just beginning to stirwith mid-morning activity, yet none seemed to hold the answer she sought.
