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Black sand.
Clara could only hope that black sand could turn into gold for her, Lena, and Scott.
“Get your cleaning bucket,” she said to Lena. Her daughter actually did a pretty good job on the rooms. She could pull out anything inside them and stack it in the halls. One of her greatest strengths was cleaning a bathroom until it sparkled, and then Clara would go behind her the next day and really make everything shine.
Lena went into the office behind the lobby, where they mostly spent their days. Her cleaning cart was there, and she dutifully pushed it through the doorway and down the hall, moving further into the inn. At least once a day, she’d come running back to the lobby, calling for Clara or Scott and claiming she’d heard something scary.
They definitely weren’t in Montpelier anymore, and Lena’s comfortable, predictable life had been tipped over, tossed out, and trampled on. She’d coped much better than Clara had thought she would, actually, and a rush of love for her daughter filled her.
Scott came inside, and Clara looked over to him. They hadn’t been talking much, and Clara knew all of that stemmed from her. He spoke about her, and Clara let him though it did set her blood to boiling sometimes, depending on what he said.
In general, he was trying very hard, and Clara suddenly felt the weight of that. Tears pressed behind her eyes as he neared, and she opened her arms and took him into a hug as the first drops of wetness tracked down her face.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know why she’d instantly started crying. She hadn’t touched Scott in a while, but she found absolute comfort in his arms now.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice throaty and pinched too. “What is it? Lance says they’ll have that part of the island scraped bare for me. I’ll get it looking so good, Clara. I promise.”
He’d taken over the landscaping and outdoor appearance of the inn. She’d shown him her map, and he’d said, “I can do that.”
Everything in his life had started with those four words, and Clara had once loved that about him. If there was something Scott didn’t know, he learned it. If he failed, he tried again.
He stepped back now, and foolishness filled Clara. She was so used to being strong; it had been a long time since she’d broken down like this, especially in front of him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be,” he said. “This is a lot, every single day, it’s a lot.”
She looked up, tears clinging to her lashes. “No, I meant I’m sorry for what’s going on between us.” The inn was a mess, and Clara honestly thought it always would be. But her and Scott? She didn’t want them to be a mess for much longer.
She ran the tip of her thumb down her ring finger, expecting to feel the cool touch of metal. A bump as she went over her wedding band.
It wasn’t there. She needed it to be there.
“I know I’ve put you through a lot,” he said. “Too much.” He didn’t drop his chin this time, as he had in previous talks they’d had about things. She’d never seen a man as broken as Scott had been when he’d come home in the middle of the day and told her what was happening at work.
What he’d done. What he’d allowed to happen. What he could’ve said and didn’t.
Clara had held him then. She’d told him it would be okay. She’d said they’d work through everything together. It was only later that the anger and betrayal snuck up on her, infiltrating everything from the way Scott never put his deodorant away, to how he got to leave the house every day without dealing with Lena, their dog, or anything. He got up when he wanted. He came home when he wanted. He didn’t do much of anything around the house.
He loved Lena, and he loved Clara, and he’d supported them. That had always been enough.
Until it wasn’t; until he couldn’t support them.
“I love you,” she said, and his face brightened with hope. “I love you, Scott, but I’m still so angry at you.”
“I know that.” He nodded. “You have the right to be.” Instead of backing up the way he had in the past, he moved into her, easily taking her into his arms again. “I love you too, Clara, and Ipromiseyou I’m going to make this work for us.”
He pulled away slightly and leaned his forehead against hers. “Okay? I’m going to be the man you’ve stood by for all these years. I am.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. He wisely didn’t kiss her, because she didn’t want to be kissed right now. The only thing in her mind was the word,How?
How was Scott going to make it work?
How? How? How?
ChapterSeven
Eloise Sherman’s hands stilled around the fake flowers she was arranging in a glass vase. Her phone had chimed, and she’d glanced down at the notification of a new message on their group text.
Almost everyone on that string was already here, and she’d found it odd that someone would be texting when they’d all gathered in the same room.
