by Sophie Love
Once the family was ready they piled into the pickup truck. Chantelle was sleepy in the back car seat, and looked less than thrilled by the trip. Emily couldn’t help but feel irritated. No one was even remotely enthusiastic, not even Chantelle who was excited by everything!
As Daniel drove, they all remained silent, just listening to pop hits on the radio. Emily knew he was hung over but she wished he would at least make conversation with her. It would go some way in reassuring her frantic mind.
They reached the venue, which was even prettier than in the pictures, and then Emily remembered. Something about the sparse winter branches of the trees surrounding the small stone structure delighted Emily. It looked like something from a postcard. She could imagine it covered in snow. Maybe she wanted a winter wedding after all.
There was a woman waiting for them on the steps, holding a clipboard.
“Hello, I’m Simone,” she said, shaking each of their hands, including Chantelle’s. “Please come in.”
She opened up the large oak door and led them inside.
Emily gasped as she looked around the venue. It was small and would only accommodate their closest friends, but it was gorgeous. Glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, which was also made of glass. There was vegetation everywhere, making it feel as though they were as much outside as inside, giving the place a fresh smell and cool feel.
Daniel chuckled. “It’s like being in a greenhouse.”
Emily shot him a warning glare. Now was not the time for his “funny” quips.
“We can change the foliage to meet your needs,” Simone explained. “Of course it’s seasonal so at the moment it’s our winter selection. We can remove it altogether also if that’s preferred.”
“No, I love it,” Emily said, touching her fingers delicately against the sprigs of holly and the twisted wreath-like bark.
Daniel didn’t seem as awestruck by the vegetation as Emily was, which she thought strange since he was such an outdoorsy type, what with his rose garden and the patches of vegetables he tended to at the inn.
“What season were you hoping to arrange the wedding for?” Simone asked.
“We’re not sure yet,” Emily said. “Of course I’d always imagined a summer wedding when I was a kid, but Maine is so lovely in the winter. Then I love the colors of fall. The weather of spring.” She laughed. “I guess every season has its advantages.”
“A fuss-free bride-to-be,” Simone joked. “You’re just my type.”
Emily laughed along with Simone’s humor. But Daniel was standing a little ways apart, staring up at the domed glass roof, his arms folded.
“Is it noisy when it rains?” he asked.
Emily tensed. Daniel was in practical mode, thinking of things logically rather than with his heart.
“The glass is double glazed,” Simone explained. “Even though you’d never know to look at it. So, no, it’s never that loud. You’ll always be able to hear the vicar.” She smiled.
“I love it here,” Emily gushed.
“Please, do take your time. Have a look around,” Simone said, and Emily wondered whether she sensed the disparity between her own and Daniel’s desires. “I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Chantelle was already exploring the spherical space. She seemed to like it, despite her sleepiness dampening her usual enthusiasm. It was only Daniel who appeared nonplussed. Emily was disappointed that he wasn’t more enthused by the location.
They stepped away together to talk privately.
“What are you thinking?” Emily asked in a hushed voice.
“I’m thinking I need a Bloody Mary,” Daniel replied.
“I mean about the venue,” Emily hissed.
Daniel shrugged. “It’s hard to make a decision when my head is pounding so hard.”
Emily felt herself pull her hands into fists. Daniel was being infuriating.
She walked up to Simone. “Thanks so much for showing us around. We’ll take all your pamphlets and brochures and be in touch.”
“Of course,” Simone replied, handing her their marketing materials. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Come on, Chantelle,” Emily called to the girl, whose head seemed to be as in the clouds today as her father’s was.
They piled back into the pickup truck. Emily couldn’t help but slam her door shut and sulk.
Daniel started the engine and watched her from the corner of his eye. “Is everything okay?” he asked as he began to back out of the parking space.
“Why don’t you like it?” Emily asked, launching straight into the confrontation.
“It was nice,” Daniel admitted. “But it’s quite a long way to drive for basically some indoor trees.”
Emily looked at him coolly.
“I just mean I’m sure there’s somewhere closer to home that has the same thing going on,” he added, attempting to clarify his words.
Emily sunk down into her seat and turned her gaze out the passenger side window. “Sure,” she mumbled. “I’ll look closer to home.”
As Daniel drove them along the streets of Kittery, Emily composed a text to Amy, who she knew would be waiting on tenterhooks for some news about the venue.
Well, that was a complete bust.
*
Emily twiddled her ring tensely as Daniel parked the truck back at the inn. Chantelle had napped the entire way and now finally had some energy. She rushed out into the backyard to play and stretch her legs.
Quietly, Emily and Daniel walked up the porch steps. They’d barely spoken a word to each other the whole drive home.
To Emily’s relief, Vanessa and Marnie had already cleared the downstairs area of the New Year’s party detritus. It was like someone had waved a magic wand and restored the inn to its former glory.
Lois was on shift, sitting at the reception desk.
“You have mail,” she told Emily, hopping up to attention. “Well, Chantelle does anyway.”
She handed Emily a bundle of letters. Emily took them with a frown. Immediately, she noticed the watermark on the envelopes. They’d been posted from Tennessee. Sheila? That was the last thing she needed right now!
“What are those?” Daniel asked Emily.
She held the letters to her chest. “I think they’re from Sheila,” she replied, her clutch on them tightening.
Daniel’s expression immediately became drawn. They headed into the living room where they could speak more privately, away from Lois and the guests who roamed the halls.
There were four letters in total. Emily wondered when Sheila had written them and why she hadn’t sent them immediately, why she’d waited to send them together. It seemed peculiar. She felt them and realized that three of them must be cards. Perhaps a birthday card for Chantelle’s birthday in October, a Thanksgiving day card and a Christmas card? But what was in the fourth envelope, which was more pliable than the others?
“Should we show them to Chantelle?” Emily asked Daniel.
But no sooner had the words left her lips than Chantelle walked into the living room, red-cheeked from her dash around the yard.
“Show me what?” she asked.
Emily and Daniel froze. There was no option now. They had to show her what they’d considered concealing and risk the emotional fallout.
“Cards, sweetie,” Emily said softly. “From your mom. And maybe a letter.”
Chantelle visibly paled. “Give them to me,” she demanded.
“Okay,” Emily said with trepidation. “But remember your mom isn’t well. What she’s written might be disappointing.”
Chantelle remained emotionless. Emily handed her the four envelopes.
The little girl slowly walked over to the couch, sat down, and opened the first. Emily craned her head, trying to see what it was, and assumed from the bright pink color that it was indeed a birthday card. Chantelle moved on, opening the second envelope, then the third. From here, Emily couldn’t make out any of the writing contained within
them, and Chantelle kept them very private, returning the cards neatly to their envelopes once she’d quietly read them.
Then she opened the fourth envelope. As Emily had predicted, this was indeed a letter. Emily and Daniel watched as Chantelle unfolded it, rested it on her knees, and took a considerable amount of time reading it. Like the others, she returned it neatly to its envelope. Then all at once, she began to cry.
Emily rushed to her side. “Sweetie, is everything okay?”
Chantelle nodded, but her tears kept on falling.
“What did your mom say?” Daniel asked.
Chantelle refused to speak.
“I’m going to my room now,” was all she said.
Silently she stood up and left the room, leaving Daniel and Emily floundering. They looked at one another.
“What should we do?” Emily said.
Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I should call Sheila? Find out what she said in the letters?”
Emily didn’t like the idea of Daniel speaking to his ex. Sheila liked to flirt with Daniel and it made Emily uncomfortable to think of them talking on the phone.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“We can’t exactly sneak into Chantelle’s room and read them when she’s not looking,” Daniel countered. “It would be an invasion of privacy.”
“And calling Sheila to ask what she wrote wouldn’t be?” Emily replied.
Daniel frowned. “You just don’t want me to speak to her, do you?”
Emily folded her arms and exhaled. “No. Okay. I don’t,” she admitted.
“You don’t have to be so insecure all the time,” Daniel replied. “I’m not about to rekindle my relationship with my drug-addicted ex-girlfriend who hid my child from me for six goddamn years.”
His words weren’t exactly a comfort to Emily, nor was the tone in which he spoke them. Daniel seemed to grow more exasperated at her lack of response.
“We’re engaged, Emily,” he said. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you? I’m about to commit to spending my entire life with you and you’re worrying about Sheila?”
All at once, Emily began to weep passionately. It was as if all of her fears and anxieties over the last couple of months were bursting out of her in one go.
“Do you really want to get married, Daniel, or was this whole thing just for show?”
Daniel stared at her, astounded by her sudden outburst. “I can’t believe you’d even ask that,” he said, astonished.
Then, without uttering another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next day Emily was trying to keep her mind busy with the inn rather than letting it drift back to the argument with Daniel. But she found it difficult to focus on anything.
She was so preoccupied with her own thoughts she didn’t even hear the telephone ringing until Lois rushed up to the reception desk to grab it.
“It’s for you,” Lois said, handing the receiver to her. “Chantelle’s teacher.”
Emily felt an immediate jolt of concern.
“Ms. Glass?” she said into the receiver, sounding more than a little surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling,” Ms. Glass said. “I wanted to speak to you about an incident with Chantelle.”
“What?” Emily gasped. “What’s happened? Is she okay?”
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Was the child injured? Bullied? Lost?
“She’s fine,” Ms. Glass continued. “It’s just that she got into an altercation with one of her friends. Toby.”
Emily frowned at the news. Suzanna and Wesley’s son? But he and Chantelle were the best of friends.
“What kind of altercation?” Emily asked.
“There was a spat in the playground,” Ms. Glass explained. “Chantelle became somewhat aggressive. She hit Toby.”
Emily gasped. She’d seen firsthand Chantelle’s explosive rage, but it had never been directed at a person, just inanimate objects. She couldn’t imagine the sweet, gentle child hitting anyone.
“She’s going through a lot,” Emily explained, stammering. “With her mom.”
“What kind of things?” Ms. Glass asked gently.
Emily had no answer to give. She had no idea what was in Sheila’s letter but she was certain it was the reason Chantelle had flown off the handle at Toby.
“Well, I don’t know all the ins and outs, to be honest,” Emily explained. “Her mom got in touch for the first time in a long while. The last time that happened Chantelle acted out so I’m sure it’s related. Is Toby okay?”
“He’s a little shaken. His mom’s taken him home for the rest of the day.”
Emily wondered whether Suzanna would be outraged by the incident. She wanted to call her ASAP and apologize but Ms. Glass hadn’t finished.
“I think it would be really helpful if you and Daniel came into school today to talk about it,” she said.
“Is that necessary?” Emily began. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“Actually, I really think it would be a good idea for everyone to sit down with a counselor. Chantelle’s background is clearly having a significant impact on her.”
Emily snapped her lips shut. She was trembling, unable to speak. Chantelle had been coping so well. She’d been flourishing. And now Sheila had crawled out of the woodwork and ruined everything.
“It will calm down,” Emily replied. But even as she said it she could tell she’d lost her resolve. What if it didn’t?
“I know this is difficult,” Ms. Glass continued, “but it may be a delayed reaction on Chantelle’s part. We needn’t approach this like a stand-off. There’s nothing shameful about your situation, no one is criticizing you. You’re doing a great job in pretty difficult circumstances. We’re all on the same team. We all want what’s best for Chantelle.”
“Yes, of course,” Emily whispered, her mind a blur of worries. Could this incident affect the adoption claim? What if Chantelle’s behavior at school was taken as an indication that she wasn’t best placed in her and Daniel’s care? What if seeing a counselor acted against them, like a blemish on their permanent record? Or, conversely, what if refusing to see one did?
Emily’s head spun. She had no idea what to do. Calling Richard Goldsmith for advice would be lunacy. She had to make her own call on this one, trust her own judgment as a parent.
“Fine,” she said, finally. “If you think it’s necessary. When did you want to do it?”
“As soon as possible,” Miss Glass replied. “This afternoon. Can Chantelle’s father join us as well?”
Emily hadn’t expected it to be so immediate. “Daniel’s at work. He won’t be able to leave at such short notice.”
There was a moment’s pause from the other end of the line. Then, “Perhaps you could give him a call?” Ms. Glass suggested. “See whether he might be able to make an exception on this one occasion?”
Emily floundered. Ms. Glass was treating this so seriously. Were things with Chantelle really so terrible that she needed to drag Daniel out of work just for a meeting?
But she decided it best to. This was about Chantelle and doing what was right for her.
“Okay. We’ll be there.”
After arranging the meeting with Ms. Glass, Emily hung up and immediately drove speedily to Jack Cooper’s workshop. She parked haphazardly beside it, then jumped out of the car and ran up to it.
She knocked on the garage-style door, making the metal rattle. From inside she could hear the sound of a radio. A moment later the door was heaved up from the other side with a rattle. There stood Daniel.
“Emily?” he said, sounding shocked. “What’s wrong?” He reached out and touched her arm.
“It’s Chantelle,” Emily said, rubbing her forehead. “She hit Toby. We have to go and see a school counselor.”
Daniel looked concerned. “Now?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the o
ther people working in the woodshop, bent over sanding machines and jigsaws, all absorbed in their work.
“I’m afraid so,” Emily said. “Will you be able to leave?”
“Sure,” Daniel replied, though he didn’t sound particularly happy about it.
Emily watched from the doorway as Daniel went and explained the situation to Jack. Then he came back and led Emily out with a protective hand on the small of her back. He shut the garage door behind him.
Clambering into the passenger seat of Emily’s car, Daniel’s expression turned into one of concern. Emily wondered whether the same worries were flitting through his mind as they were hers: that this could impact negatively on the legal proceedings.
Emily drove them to the school parking lot. They got out and walked the path quietly, wearing twin expressions of self-doubt. Then they climbed the steps up to the main doors and Emily pressed the intercom button.
“We have a meeting with Ms. Glass and the school counselor,” she explained to the secretary. “We’re Chantelle’s parents.”
There was a buzzing sound and Emily tugged on the door, opening it. It felt so strange for her entering the school with such negative emotions. Usually Emily found coming here a pleasant experience.
Daniel and Emily stopped by the reception desk to collect their visitors’ badges.
“The counselor’s office is just down the hall, third on the left,” the receptionist explained.
Attaching their stickers to their shirts as they walked, Emily and Daniel followed the directions and drew up outside the counselor’s office. They peered in through the small glass window in the door. Inside, the room looked cozy. It was filled with toys and craft stations. Chantelle was sitting cross-legged on a rug, painting a picture on a low, round table. There was a portly woman sitting in a chair beside her, looking down and speaking with her as she painted. She had a long gray braid hanging down over one shoulder. Ms. Glass was there as well, and she looked up at the window.
