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"Roxanne is right," she reminded herself silently, her gaze fixed on the old photograph of her parents resting on her bedside table. "I am strong. I am resilient. And I deserve to know the truth."
Her heart leaped in her chest as the ringing finally stopped, replaced by the faint sound of breathing on the other end of the line. She had made contact – now, all that remained was to see if Marion would open the door to the past and help Charlotte find the answers she so desperately sought.
"Hello?" Charlotte queried tentatively, unsure if the breathing she heard was indeed her potential relative. But just as she spoke those words, the line went dead, leaving her with nothing but a sharp tone in her ear and a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Wait!" she exclaimed, though she knew there was no one left to hear her plea. A mix of disappointment and confusion washed over her like a cold wave on an autumn day. Had she dialed the wrong number? Or perhaps it had been the right number, but something had spooked Marion into ending the call so abruptly.
"Focus, Charlotte," she whispered to herself, her fingers gripping the edge of the heavy wooden desk in front of her. "You can't give up now."
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her trembling hands and carefully entered the digits of another potential relative's phone number. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest like it was desperate to break free from its confines.
The phone rang once, twice, and then a third time. With each ring, Charlotte's hope began to wane, threatening to slip through her fingers like sand through an hourglass. She clenched her jaw, determined not to let the fear consume her as it had done so many times in the past.
"Hello?" a voice answered, soft yet strong, pulling Charlotte back from the precipice of despair.
"Um, hi," she stuttered, momentarily taken aback by the sudden response. "My name is Charlotte Moore... Anderson. I'm trying to find my family, and I think we might be related. Is this Evelyn?"
"Charlotte?" the voice on the other end repeated, a hint of curiosity mingling with surprise. "Well, I'll be darned. Yes, this is Evelyn. How can I help you, dear?"
The warmth in Evelyn's voice wrapped around Charlotte like a comforting embrace, breathing new life into her desire to solve the mystery of her past. She had found another potential relative – perhaps, this time, she would finally uncover the truth that had eluded her for so long.
"Thank you," Charlotte replied, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm just trying to piece together my family history, and I think you might have some answers I've been searching for."
"Of course, dear," Evelyn said kindly. "That sounds nice."
The line went dead, leaving nothing but a hollow silence that echoed in Charlotte's ear. She stared at the phone, her heart sinking with each passing second as she tried to process what had just happened. Had Evelyn hung up on her? Was it a simple misunderstanding, or had she inadvertently struck a nerve?
She tried the number again, but it just rang and rang.
"Maybe it's not meant to be," she murmured, running her fingers through her chestnut hair. Charlotte glanced around the cozy sitting room of Marge's inn, taking in the warm hues of the wallpaper, the soft glow from the table lamp, and the delicate ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
"Come on, Charlotte," she whispered, steeling herself for one final attempt. "You've come too far to give up now."
Her fingers trembling slightly, she dialed the number of the third potential family member, her pulse quickening. Marge had left her with a list of possible relatives, and this was the last name: Agnes.
"Please," she prayed silently, "let this be the one."
As the phone rang, Charlotte's breath hitched in her chest. The familiar doubts began to creep in, casting shadows. What if Agnes didn't want to speak with her? What if she was opening old wounds that were better left untouched?
"Enough," she scolded herself, banishing the negative thoughts and focusing on the sound of the ringing phone. This was her chance, her opportunity to finally uncover the truth and connect with her long-lost family.
And she wouldn't let fear stand in her way.
The ringing seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the sound resonating within Charlotte's chest. Just as she was about to give in to despair, the call connected, and Charlotte introduced herself.
A cheerful voice emerged from the other end. "Hello? Is this Henry's Charlotte?"
Charlotte froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't expected someone to know her connection to Henry right away. Gathering her wits, she managed to stammer out a response. "Y-yes, it's me. I'm Charlotte."
"Ah, my dear, I thought so!" Agnes exclaimed with genuine warmth. "I'm your cousin Agnes, on your father's side. Marge told me you were trying to reach me – she's such a dear."
A cozy feeling encircled Charlotte, as if she were wrapped in a soft, familiar blanket. The welcoming tone of Agnes's voice instantly put her at ease, and she found herself smiling despite the uncertainty that had been plaguing her. "It's so nice to finally speak with you, Agnes," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I've been searching for my father's family, hoping to learn more about him and our heritage."
"Of course, my dear, I understand completely. It must have been quite a journey for you to come all the way to Chesham Cove." There was a comforting maternal quality to Agnes's words, one that Charlotte hadn't realized she'd been craving.
"Would you like to join me for tea tomorrow afternoon?" Agnes offered suddenly, her voice laced with excitement. "I'd love to get to know you better and share what I can about our family history."
Charlotte hesitated for a moment, feeling vulnerable but also eager to meet her newfound relative. She could sense the sincerity in Agnes's invitation, and the prospect of finally finding answers was too enticing to resist. "I'd be delighted to join you," she replied, her heart swelling with a renewed sense of hope and connection.
