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“Let me get this straight,” the woman interrupted. “The owners have hired you to design a modern Cherry Inn?”
Charlie stuttered. “Yes?”
The woman’s eyes became slits. Charlie had never struggled to read someone’s expression more. He couldn’t tell if she was impressed or just bored. And then, all at once, she slammed his breakfast platter down in the center of his designs, casting grease and syrup across a few of the drawings. “Hey!” Charlie cried.
But the woman had already fled. She smashed her hands against the door to open it and marched out into the chill, abandoning the diner and all its current guests without a second thought. Charlie gaped at her as she walked away, disappearing around the corner. “What the heck?” he muttered, removing the breakfast platter from his drawings and setting them off to the side to dry. The designs were still clear; he could simply transfer the drawings to clean sheets. Not all was lost. But still, he had the strangest sensation that he’d just been reprimanded by his mother in public. He couldn’t shake it.
ChapterSeven
Charlotte sat in her grandfather’s La-Z-Boy, watchingThe Big Bang Theoryon low volume. In her arms, Ethan slept, his mouth open, his chin raised, and his tiny hand splayed across her upper chest as though he wanted to feel the beating of her heart. In their bedrooms, Grandpa Hank and Van both slept as well, Van ailing due to a terrible case of mastitis that had come on very suddenly. This was yet another thing Charlotte had forgotten about so many years after her own babies had been born. She’d forgotten that being a new mother meant being an exposed nerve, your body being used to its breaking point.
But little Ethan was perfect. He was two weeks old, safe, and warm in his great-grandparents’ apartment, miles and miles away from his evil father. As Charlotte held him, she dared herself to think back to twenty-eight years ago, after she’d given birth to Van. She’d still been very in love with Peter. Even when Peter hadn’t helped her with Van or when he’d gone out with his friends when she, herself, had had mastitis, Charlotte had worshipped him. How could she have been so blind? She’d always known herself to be an intelligent person— the best in her English class, the one friends called in a pinch for advice. How was it possible she’d fallen for the worst-possible man? And now, Van had done the same.
Charlotte had wanted something different for Van. Just as her mother had wanted something different for Charlotte. Life was a constant cycle of repetitions. It seemed impossible to ever break your patterns.
Suddenly, the front door burst open. The movement was so swift that Charlotte jumped to her feet, waking little Ethan, who gurgled and then wailed, his red fist pumping. But Ethan’s fear was the least of Charlotte’s worries. Standing on the welcome mat in her waitressing uniform was Louise Summers. She glowered at Charlotte, her eyes penetrating. It was the first time they’d seen one another in years, and it alarmed Charlotte to see how much her mother had aged. Probably, her mother was thinking the same thing about her.
Finally, Charlotte managed to speak. “Where is your coat? It’s fifteen degrees out there!”
Louise crossed her arms over her chest. If she was cold, she wouldn’t confess to it. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
In her arms, Ethan had quieted, seemingly too curious about the woman in the doorway to make a fuss, and she adjusted him gently to ensure he was more comfortable. Blowing all the air from her lungs, she crossed the living room and closed the door again, praying that all this racket hadn’t woken Van up. She needed her rest.
“Can you update me on why you’re angry with me today?” Charlotte said. “I can’t always keep up.”
“I really thought you loved this place, Charlotte,” Louise said. “I know we’ve had our differences over the years, but I thought, in your heart of hearts, you’d always respect the Cherry Inn.”
“I do! I always have!” Charlotte sputtered. She wanted to point out that the Summers family hadn’t lent the inn half the respect it deserved— that they’d let it fall into disrepair.
“I should have known,” Louise said. “All that money and fame went to your head.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. “What money? What fame? What on earth are you talking about, Mom?” Because Charlotte had published one semi-successful children’s book and six not-so-successful children’s books, her mother had built up an idea of Charlotte’s life that just didn’t exist.
Louise’s eyes were fiery. “You want to destroy the spirit of this place. You want to cleanse it of any history. And I won’t let you do it.”
“Can you please clue me in on what you’re talking about?” Charlotte demanded. “I’m lost here.”
“You always make it about yourself,” Louise said.
Ethan took this opportunity to open his mouth and wail again. Immediately, Louise bristled and blinked down at the tiny baby in Charlotte’s arms, although she was noticing him for the first time. Because she’d ignored all of Charlotte and Van’s messages since their arrival, she hadn’t yet come over to meet her great-grandson. Now, her face softened, and she took a delicate step forward. Her eyes glinted with tears.
It was always like this with Louise: emotions running amok from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. It always gave Charlotte whiplash.
“That’s him, then?” Louise cupped her hands together. “He’s just so tiny. Look at that little hand.”
Charlotte could barely hear her mother over Ethan’s wails. It seemed impossible that such a little thing could emit such tremendous noise. Already, a headache crawled up the back of Charlotte’s neck and planted itself between her ears. Van’s door burst open, and she hurried out, her face pale from pain. When she saw Louise, she stalled and said, “Oh! Grandma. Hi? Um. Good to see you?”
Louise melted even more at the sight of her granddaughter, a young woman she’d hardly ever gotten to know. Charlotte wanted to remind Louise that this was her own fault, that she’d drawn a boundary between them. Van extended her arms to take Ethan from Charlotte, then carried him to the attached kitchen, where she procured a bottle from the fridge and proceeded to feed him. Throughout, Louise and Charlotte watched her. Charlotte’s heart throbbed with memories of having to do this for Van— of being so needed on a physical level. Was Louise thinking the same thing about Charlotte?
The crying stopped, and the silence was heavy. The only sound was of Ethan sucking on the bottle; his soft eyelids had begun to close.
“Sorry about that,” Van whispered. “We’re still trying to find a rhythm around here.”
Louise looked deflated, like a warrior who’d just traveled to battle to find her opponents ailing and unable to fight. She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms tighter.
“You’ll find it,” Louise whispered, reaching up to swipe a tear away from her cheek.
It had been a long time since Charlotte had seen her mother cry. Even that night of their first big fight, when Charlotte had told Louise about her pregnancy, Louise’s face had been a giant, cherry-red tomato, filled with rage. There had been no tears on her part. Charlotte had assumed she’d been the only one to mourn their lost mother-daughter relationship. She’d assumed her mother had moved on stoically; such was the way of Louise Summers.
