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“Long night?” Grammy said, waggling her eyebrows at Charlotte.
The two of them were seated at the kitchen table, looking out over the expanse of land. Okay, maybe Grammy was looking out over the land. Charlotte had her laptop out, updating her résumé and looking for jobs.
“It was just a normal night,” she said.
“Mm-hmm.” Grammy smiled over her coffee cup. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?” Charlotte asked.
“Look happy and sad at the same time.”
Charlotte frowned. “I’m not sad.”
“You’re not happy, either.”
True. She’d been happy with Tripp and Gracie. Then sad about how the morning ended. Then happy about the idea of warmth and home and pancake breakfasts. Then sad about real life.
Princess Peanut Butter wedged herself between Charlotte’s knees and leaned into her, her big eyes managing to convey everything Charlotte herself was feeling. She shut her laptop, scratched the dog’s fuzzy head, and sighed.
There were so many conflicting emotions she didn’t know where to start, so she stayed with the truth. And that was that there was a clock on her visit here. She would enjoy what she could, while she could.
“Well, when you decide to be happy all the time, I’ll be here to celebrate with you,” Grammy said.
“It’s not that simple,” Charlotte mumbled.
“If you say so,” Grammy said, and for once, she wished her grandmother weren’t a stubborn woman who happened to be right more often than wrong, because Charlotte’s whole life was in the balance and she really needed her Grammy to be wrong this time…or right.
Chapter Eleven
The town square was packed, bustling with people and music and chatter. The syrupy sweet smell of pancakes wafted from countless tables, luring even more people onto the street. Charlotte’s mouth watered. Pancakes were definitely on the morning agenda.
She spotted the Girl Scout troop and found Gracie standing nearby in her cute little outfit, complete with sash and hat. The train station loomed in the background, taunting Charlotte with memories of her first night with Tripp.
She tapped the little girl on the top of her head. “Hey, Gracie.”
Gracie whirled around and hugged her. “Charlie!”
Charlotte looked around at the handful of stressed-out moms manning the booth, one of whom wore a uniform just like Gracie’s. She must’ve been the troop leader.
“Looks like you’re almost ready to go.” The bags of batter were out, and skillets sat on a heating element plate.
Gracie worried her sash, a tiny frown puckering her forehead. “Yeah, we have to start making the pancakes soon, and my daddy is the expert flipper, but he’s not here yet.”
“That’s all right, kiddo. I can flip a mean pancake,” Bo said, hanging near the table. Charlotte noticed the wink he tossed at the troop leader, but the woman did not look impressed.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Come on, Erica. When are you going to stop pretending you don’t like me?”
“When you give me a reason to think differently,” the woman, Erica, said without looking up from stirring the pancake batter in a big bowl.
“Oh, I’ll give you plenty of reasons to like me. Starting tonight. Dinner?”
“Never.”
Charlotte stifled a laugh. The smooth-talking Bo Drake was having a hard time with this woman? Interesting.
“How about breakfast, then?” he tried. “I’ll take over Tripp’s place. He just texted that he’s running late.” He glanced at Charlotte. “Cow emergency.”
