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She glanced in the mirror above the hall table, trying for a determined smile, but her eyes looked tired, and her dirty blond hair definitely needed a cut and color. She’d make sure to do it before Christmas; she wanted to look her best for the big event… Assuming therewasa big event, and that everybody agreed to her plan.
“Mum?” Jess came out of the kitchen, sounding far more British than she had two years ago, back when Ellie had still been “Mom” and they’d all struggled with the unfamiliar British terms—car park instead of parking lot, lesson instead of class, pavement instead of sidewalk, and what felt like a million other words and phrases that marked them out as foreigners, despite the shared language. Then, of course, there had been the Welsh street signs and names to grapple with, and mandatory Welsh lessons in school. Even Ava knew more Welsh than she did, Ellie acknowledged wryly.
“Yes, sweetheart?” she asked, smiling.
“I think the blueberry muffins are done. Do you want me to take them out?”
“Yes thanks, Jess. That would be great.” Ellie gave her daughter a grateful but distracted smile before she met her gaze in the mirror once more, gave herself a quick, bracing nod, and then followed her daughter into the kitchen.
“What is this all about, anyway?” Jess asked as she took the muffins out of the Aga and placed them on a cooling rack, her lips pursed into a frown, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. She’d grown up so much in the last two years—now fifteen, she was tall and willowy, the coltishness of youth already turning into the grace of young womanhood. It made Ellie feel sad and proud at the same time. How had her oldest child become so grown-up? “Why is everyone coming over, exactly?”
“To have a family meeting,” Ellie replied rather grandly. She reached for the big teapot decorated with roses that rested on a shelf above the Aga and started spooning loose tea in. “To talk about the inn.”
“The inn isn’t really introuble, though, is it?” Jess’s frown deepened, a shadow of worry in her hazel eyes.
A few days ago, Ellie had mentioned, fleetingly, that the inn was experiencing a bit of a hiccup, money-wise, but that they just needed some strategies to sort it out. She hadn’t wanted to worry the children, and she’d thought she’d been successful in that aim—Ben had merely shrugged, Josh had nodded slowly, and Ava had skipped off to play. But now Jess cocked her head, her eyes narrowing.
“Mum?”
“Financially, thingsarea little tight,” Ellie admitted carefully. She wanted to talk about the inn’s money troubles in the context of a possible solution. “So, this morning we need to brainstorm a way to make things even out.”
“And if we can’t? Brainstorm a way?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ellie replied lightly. “I’m sure between all of us, we can think of some good ideas. We have before.”
“But… we won’t have toleave, will we?” Jess pressed, a trace of genuine alarm in her voice.
Eighteen months ago, when Jess had been having such a hard time at school and had even tried to run away, managing to get all the way to Heathrow Airport, hoping to fly back to America, Ellie could never have imagined that her daughter might one day be worried that they’d have to leave Llandrigg. All she’d wanted was to return home to Connecticut; it was heartening that she now wanted to stay here with the same depth of feeling.
“We won’t have to leave,” Ellie promised. At least, she hoped not.
Once, she’d missed their old life in Connecticut with nearly the same fervor as her daughter, but those days had gone. She was proud of what they’d built at the Bluebell, and she was glad of the friends she’d made, the life they’d carved out for themselves. But the inn was a big part of all that. Would she feel the same about Llandrigg if it failed? Ifshefailed?
“Muffins!” Ben exclaimed, loping into the kitchen and grabbing two off the cooling rack before Ellie could ask him not to.
“Ben—” she began, only to find her thirteen-year-old had already stuffed an entire muffin into his mouth. “Ben.” She shook her head, exasperation warring with affection. “Those are for our meeting.”
Ben gave her his puppy-dog look, blue eyes wide with appeal underneath his shaggy mane of light brown hair. He’d had a growth spurt recently and was now taller than she was by a good few inches; like Jess, the round softness of childhood was turning into something more grown-up. “But I haven’t had breakfast,” he protested. “And I’m starving.”
“Then pour yourself a bowl of Shreddies or something,” Ellie replied tartly, rescuing the second muffin from his hand, and putting it back on the rack. “And don’t steal any more, please!”
Grumbling theatrically under his breath, Ben grabbed a bowl and the cereal box, trailing Shreddies all across the newly wiped counter.
Briefly, Ellie closed her eyes and prayed for patience. This was going to go well, she told herself, not for the first time. It had to.
Just then, the front door opened, and Sarah came into the kitchen, followed by Owen and Mairi. Owen slouched, his hands in his pockets, looking around for Ben, and Mairi, Ellie thought, looked a little drawn and anxious, one finger twirling a strand of her strawberry blond hair.
“No Nathan?” she asked in surprise, only to see her sister-in-law’s expression tighten.
“He’s busy with work.”
On a Saturday morning? Ellie just nodded her understanding, not wanting to pry. Come to think of it, she reflected as she poured boiling water into the teapot, Nathan hadn’t really been part of the Bluebell Inn lately. At the start, he’d seemed as enthusiastic as Sarah, offering his business and marketing expertise, helping with some of their initial advertising, but in the last six months or so his interest—and his presence—had both dropped off, although Ellie hadn’t actually noticed until now.
“Work is very busy, I suppose?” she asked, realizing she was going to press, after all, just a little.
“Yes,” Sarah said flatly, and that seemed to be very much the end of the conversation.
“Hopefully it’ll ease up soon,” Ellie replied—a peace offering to which her sister-in-law gave a jerky nod. “Coffee?” she asked. “Or tea?”
