Page 23 of The Clifftop Cottage

“You just make sure you eat your dinner,” Erica said, nudging her niece’s cup away before she could dig into the cream again. “I don’t want this hot chocolate and its ton of whipped cream to make your mum hate me.”

Maisie licked the spoon, considering. Then her nose wrinkled.

“Trust me. I’ll eat it. Unless it’s stew. I hate stew.”

Back at the house, the scent of cooking greeted them as soon as they stepped through the door. Something rich and herby hung in the air.

Maisie turned to her, nose screwed up. “Oh no – stew.” Then she froze, her body like a cat’s mid-step, listening.

From the kitchen came the low clink of cutlery and the hum of voices.

Maisie didn’t even bother with subtlety. She slipped her hand from Erica’s and broke into a run.

“Daddy!”

Dylan looked up from the stove just in time. He still had his apron on, sleeves rolled, wine glass abandoned on the counter as he caught her mid-launch and lifted her easily into his arms.

“There’s my girl,” he said, pressing his face into her hair. “I missed you.”

Leah stood beside him, wooden spoon in hand, watching them with a soft smile that seemed to settle across her whole body. For a moment, it felt like Erica had walked into the middle of something. She stayed where she was, letting them have their moment.

“They gave me a week off early,” Dylan said, still holding Maisie, his voice bright. “And I’ve got extra time off too. Just us for a bit.”

Maisie wrapped herself tighter around his neck, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Erica hovered near the doorway, suddenly aware her coat was still on, her bag still over one arm. She hadn’t even taken her shoes off.

“That’s great news, Dylan,” she said, meaning it. Then she sniffed the air. “Something smells incredible.”

“Stew,” Leah said. “The celebratory kind.” She lifted her glass slightly, already halfway through it. “Sit down, you two. You must be freezing.”

Maisie finally slid down from her dad’s arms, only to latch on to his hand instead.

“I got us a chocolate cake as well,” Dylan added, glancing at Erica. “So you’re not allowed to escape.”

Erica smiled, but it felt thin around the edges.

“I might actually skip dinner tonight,” she said lightly, fingers still curled around the doorframe. “I’ve got some emails I need to catch up on. I’ll just go upstairs for a bit,” she added. “Let you all have some proper family time.”

There it was. The word sat between them, unspoken but obvious.

Leah opened her mouth, then closed it again. “It’s your family too.”

“Of course, but you know what I mean.” Erica waved a hand. “Honestly, that hot chocolate earlier has absolutely finished me off. You enjoy your dinner.”

She turned to leave, but just as she stepped into the hallway, she heard Leah’s voice behind her.

“What hot chocolate?”

Erica didn’t wait to hear the rest – she made a quick escape to the stairs, biting back a smile.

Her heart was thudding with a mix of relief or maybe just the realisation that this wasn’t her rhythm anymore. This wasn’t her house, not really. She was starting to feel where she didn’t quite fit.

She reached the hallway and finally slipped off her coat.

And that was when she saw it.

An envelope poking from the letterbox. No stamp. Just her name, written in blue biro – slightly slanted. Not Leah’s.