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“Never again,” Charlotte said. “Would you be willing to do that?”
Since their escape from New York, Van had hardly mentioned Grant. Grant hadn’t reached out about his son. It was as though he’d never existed at all. Charlotte searched for that sorrow in her daughter’s eyes— but it was as though her love for Ethan had eliminated that.
“I’ve already been dreaming about it,” Van offered.
“Grandpa doesn’t want us to,” Charlotte said.
“Maybe Grandpa doesn’t know what he wants,” Van said.
“Does anyone?”
* * *
Charlotte’s cousins, siblings Bethany and Steve, along with Steve’s wife and Bethany’s husband, arrived on the evening of the 20th. Charlotte was breathless with expectation, fearful that her cousins would immediately point out all that was wrong with the old place. But instead, Bethany and Steve threw their arms around Charlotte and gushed about how gorgeous the Cherry Inn looked— both on the inside and outside. This felt like confirmation of something. Charlotte was headed in the right direction.
“That tree is spectacular,” Bethany said. “It looks just like it did in my memories.”
“The house needs a lot of work,” Charlotte offered, tilting her head.
“Does it?” Bethany glanced around at the living room, which was tinged orange from the roaring fire. Van returned from the apartment with a big platter of Christmas cookies, urging Bethany and Steve to sit down. “Maybe a paint job here and there? But I can’t imagine anything much more than that. It needs to stay entrenched in the past.” Bethany’s eyes glinted with nostalgia. “I hate that I haven’t been back in years.”
“Me too,” Charlotte whispered. “Am I crazy for wanting to take over this place?”
Bethany squeezed Charlotte’s arm. “It would be crazier to let this place go.”
Grandpa Hank, Bethany and her husband, Steve and his wife, Charlotte, and Van gathered around the fire that night, bubbling with expectation for the days ahead. Already, they were cultivating a plan about which cookies to bake (lemon bars, cut-outs, buckeyes, cinnamon rolls, peanut clusters, and many more), which Christmas movies to watch, and whether there would be enough snow to make a snowman outside. Memories were tossed from one side of the room to the other, with Bethany and Steve adding to Charlotte’s memories when hers failed.
“My favorite Christmas was when I was ten or eleven,” Bethany said. “I came downstairs before everyone else and found the tree lit up and all the presents untouched and glowing. To me, it felt as though Santa had literally just left. I curled up on the couch and fell asleep again, and when I woke up, I was surrounded by family members. Someone handed me a big plate of cinnamon rolls. It was heaven. Oh, and I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad got me a bike that year. I ran that thing ragged until I got too big for it.”
Charlotte smiled, remembering when they’d discovered a sleeping Bethany on the couch, all curled up, too excited about the morning to remain in bed.
The front door of the Cherry Inn opened, and a sharp draft of chilly air came through the living room.
“Mom?” Charlotte jumped to her feet to greet Louise, who’d said she would come by as soon as she closed the diner.
Louise was very pale. She remained in the foyer with her black peacoat on, waving timidly at the newcomers. “Good to see you all. Charlotte, can I speak to you for a moment?”
Charlotte frowned and hurried into the foyer, where they stepped off to the side to avoid the rest of the family’s eyes. Louise tugged at her gloves nervously.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Charlotte asked.
Louise rolled her shoulders back. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay?” Charlotte’s heartbeat felt urgent, and she struggled to draw air.
“At the diner this evening, there were two men from the city,” Louise said. “They were richer than rich. Those faces that just immediately make you feel like you’re nothing compared to them, you know?” Louise’s nose twitched. “And they had all these papers in front of them. Business proposals. Spreadsheets with very big numbers.”
Charlotte had no idea where her mother was going with this.
“I eavesdropped on them for a while,” Louise offered. “And they were talking about your friend. Charlie Bryant. They said he was in the process of securing the purchase of the Cherry Inn. They said that Charlie was ‘changing the mind of the family.’” Louise flapped her fingers with air quotes. “And they even said something about the Summers family being ‘small-town idiots’ who don’t know how to make a buck.” Louise glowered.
Charlotte was speechless.
“Finally, I butted in,” Louise went on, “and asked them about their plans. They said they want to transform the place into a spa?” Louise rubbed her temples. “I barely held my tongue.”
“I mean,” Charlotte stuttered, “Charlie initially wanted something like that, too. But he understands we won’t sell. I’ve told him. It’s in the past.”
“According to these men, Charlie is trying to manipulate us,” Louise said. “As though we’re easily manipulated! As though we’re not the most stubborn people around!”
