AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Drake hadn’t said anything, but I was sure he had some dates lined up for the awards shows. He always did. He and Marissa usually did at least one together every year, whether they were dating or not. Ugh.
I wondered if Drake would come back to visit. Did he want the role of Dad?
With those thoughts, I crept into the attic, one of the most magical places in the inn—second only to the honeymoon suite. The ballroom came in third place.
I opened the creaky door and flipped on the lights. Before me was a treasure trove of not only the inn’s past, but of George and Daisy’s. Things like antique standing mirrors, trunks, photos, and lots of books. There were even boxes of clothes, an old sewing machine, and the original Old Rock Church Inn sign. George didn’t have a lot of storage space in his new place, so he’d asked if we wouldn’t mind keeping some of his old things. I didn’t mind at all. Oddly, I thought this is where Daisy would want her things to remain. According to George, she had finished the attic and would spend hours up here, sitting in her rocking chair and reading dirty books, as George called them. He also said she did a lot of mourning for their son up here. She would pore over old pictures of Lyle and weep like only a mother can. Those tears made this place sacred. Which is why I always tiptoed in. I wanted to make sure it was okay with Daisy that I was there. Oddly, I felt like she gave me permission each time I entered. Sometimes, I think she was expecting me, like today. I swore I heard her say, “Come on in, you have quite the story to tell.” You see, I, too, had shed many tears up here, away from Izzy and Jameson. Where I could mourn what I had lost. Daisy knew all about Drake and how inadequate I felt sometimes. Us cute, perky girls had to stick together.
I walked over to an old white dresser with half the knobs missing that we planned to refinish and put in the revamped honeymoon suite. I picked up a framed photo of Daisy and George on their wedding day. The photo had faded over the years, but you could still tell Daisy was wearing a pink dress with a sleeveless bodice and puffy tulle skirt that hit just above her ankles. It looked more like she was going to prom than getting married. George said it was a bit scandalous in their day that she showed so much skin on her wedding day and didn’t wear white. You could tell by the way he was smiling at Daisy, he was absolutely enchanted by her. Her blonde hair was in a rounded bouffant with her ends in an upward curl. She was more than cute; she was stunning, with her ornery smile and mischievous blue eyes that said George was in for the ride of his life.
I brushed my fingers over the glass and smiled at George, all regal in a black tux. He still had hair then, auburn and slicked back. He was quite the looker.
“Hi, Daisy,” I whispered. I swore she responded, “It’s about time you came back up here.”
I took the photo with me and sat in her old rocking chair. I didn’t have time to dillydally, but I found myself wanting to just sit with Daisy for a while. Maybe I was hoping she had some sage advice for me. Not that I didn’t appreciate Izzy’s words of wisdom, but as she never liked Drake, I wanted a second opinion. Don’t ask me how I know that Daisy liked Drake—I just knew. I got the feeling that once upon a time George was very much like Drake, popular with the girls and aloof. That perhaps Daisy felt like me, like she would never be as gorgeous and popular as those girls who fawned all over the men we loved. But she knew a secret. She knew she had more to offer George than any of those girls. I used to think that way about Drake.
“Was I foolish, Daisy? Am I, is probably the better question?” I waited to see if I felt anything. I didn’t, but I heard the door open, startling me. I jumped up and held the photo to my chest, thinking I was surely going to have a ghostly encounter. I was fine talking to Daisy, but I wasn’t ready for any manifestations.
George peeked his bald head in, which no longer sported the wisps of six years ago, as a huge whoosh of air came out of me. “George, you scared me.”
George shuffled in, breathing hard. The stairs were killer for him “Sorry, girlie.” He’d come to call me that and I adored it.
