The balloon of her hopes for fast money popped, pricked by a small pin of reality. No matter. She’d get it done. “Okay, then. Thanks. I’ll call you after the electrician does the updates.”
He nodded. “Cheers. Have a good day.”
She sat on the front porch steps watching the truck pull away. So what now? Maybe Owen knew an electrician.
Woooooo! Wooooo!
Henry burst through the woods and her tense shoulders relaxed. Next Jilly came running from the same path, a backpack strapped to her shoulders.
Just the sight of the two made her doom and gloom evaporate like a drop of water in the sun. Henry reached Willow first and wiggled around her legs. She ran her hands over his long torso, which only made him squiggle even more. “Hi, Henry. I missed you, boy.”
Jilly stomped toward her and stopped short, panting as she spoke. “Henry won the race.”
Willow laughed. “He has the advantage of four legs to your two. Did you just get home from school?”
“Yes. My nan picked me up.” Henry ran inside the open door. Jilly shook her head and plunked her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry about him. Daddy is right. He is missing some manners.”
“Well, he’s cute, so he can get away with it. Would you like to come inside?”
“Yes, please. Nan sent me here with some tea for you. She said nobody visiting England should work through teatime.”
“How sweet of her. And a good rule to live by.” Was Jilly’s grandmother Owen’s mother or his ex-wife’s? Willow stood and brushed off the back of her jeans. Motioning with her hands toward the door, she donned a mock formal voice with an English accent. “Won’t you please come in and join me for some tea in the parlor?”
Jilly giggled. “Now you sound like you’re from England, too.” She marched inside.
As Willow entered behind her, a rustling noise came from the kitchen. Seconds later, Henry darted into the living room, prancing around the open space. Willow leaned over and patted his back. “Henry, you are one silly dog.”
Her reward came with a tongue across her cheek, but as he did, she smelled something tasty on his breath.
Jilly lowered her backpack to the coffee table then removed a thermos and pretty floral teacups. “Nan made the tea with sugar and milk. Is that okay?”
“Exactly how I drink it. Hold on. I have something perfect to go with our drink.”
One foot inside the kitchen, she figured out why Henry smelled of food. Half of the scone Edna had packed with Willow’s lunch now sat on the dirty floor. She picked it up and tossed what was left in the trash.
“Well,” she announced, returning to the living room. “I had something perfect. A scone, but Henry ate half of it.”
The dog stood near Jilly, watching Willow with shining dark eyes while his tail swayed. Willow’s annoyance melted, leaving her convinced this dog could get away with a murder rap.
“Oh, Henry.” Jilly frowned at him. “He’s often a very bad boy. Daddy says he knows when he’s being bad, but does it anyway.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
The little girl shrugged. “Maybe sometimes, but my mum always said Henry is special.”
“I can see why.” Willow’s heart ached for the child’s loss. She wanted to reach out and hug her, but after knowing her such a short time, it didn’t seem right.
Jilly reached inside her backpack again. “Oh look! Nan gave us scones.”
Willow smiled. “Perfect.”
They got everything ready, and after shooshing away Henry twice, Jilly sat beside Willow on the Queen Anne–style sofa. As they enjoyed their afternoon tea, Willow learned all about Jilly’s school and her first-year teacher.
“Do you have a best friend?”
“Nicole. She lives down the road.” Jilly picked slowly at her scone, then broke off a piece and fed it to Henry, who’d been smart enough to stay nearby. “There’s one girl I don’t like.”
“Why?”
“She’s mean. Her name is Ashley. She said I’m almost an orphan because my mother died.” Jilly frowned and glanced at Henry when he whimpered, no doubt requesting more food.
Willow understood the pain behind Jilly’s silence. The press had been brutal to Willow after the pizza video surfaced. “What Ashley said was mean. And not true.”
“Daddy said to ignore her.” Jilly stroked the dog’s ears. He turned his head and licked her hand, making Jilly almost smile. “He told me that bad people always get what they deserve.”
“He’s right, but it’s hard to ignore it when someone hurts your feelings. Isn’t it?”
Jilly nodded, her focus still on Henry.
Willow watched the pair, the bond between girl and dog something more than just his being a pet. “When I was in first grade, two kids teased me because I didn’t have a father.” The nasty boys also said her mother talked funny because of her British accent, but she didn’t want to focus on that.
Jilly looked up. “Where was he?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I never knew him and my mom didn’t tell me anything about him.”
“Why do you say it that way? Mom, not Mum.”
“We say it differently in the US.”
“What happened to the mean boys? Did they get what they deserved?” Jilly picked up her scone and took a bite, but watched Willow with her eyes opened wide, as if she were about to tell her the meaning of life.
“I’m not sure if they did. Like your dad, though, my mother said to ignore them. I did and they eventually stopped saying it. Sometimes kids do things to get a reaction. You know, they want you to get upset, for their own agenda.”
Like Nikki Winslow, who’d taken far too many jabs at her weight since she started to gain. Maybe Nikki had been a mean girl while growing up.
“Oh, before I forget,” Willow stood. “I have something for you.”
Willow carried over a box holding the dog figurines, placing them on the sofa cushion between her and Jilly. “I thought you might like these. They belonged to my grandparents.”
Jilly lifted one and opened the newspaper wrapping. Her eyes shone as she picked up one dog after the other. “Look!” She held up Willow’s favorite of the bunch. “It’s Henry.” She ran a nail-bitten finger along the porcelain. “You mean they’re all mine?”
“All yours, if your dad doesn’t mind.”
“I’ll ask. Thank you, Willow.” She stood and tossed her arms around Willow’s neck.
Willow hugged her small frame, holding her tight, the way she’d wanted to when they’d spoken earlier about her mother.
Jilly returned to her seat. “So your nan lived in this house? How come you didn’t visit ever before?”
How best to tell a child this age a story she didn’t fully understand herself? She’d never shied away from honesty, so why start now? “I never actually met them. My mother moved away from England and went to the US when she got older.”
“What’s the US?”
“America. It’s also called the United States, so we say US to shorten it.”
“Oh.” Jilly nodded. “So your mum moved there? Away from here?”
“Yes. After I was born, she never spoke about my grandparents. But last week I found papers that told me my grandparents left me this house after they died.”
“Oh. Then this house must be special.”
“Yes it is.” Willow’s heart warmed, not only at the insightful observation, but also for this young girl, who possessed wisdom beyond her years. Losing a parent could do that to a child.
“Maybe tomorrow, after school, you can come by and help me upstairs. I was going to pack up my mother’s room and could use a hand.”
“Can I bring Henry?”
Willow glanced at the dog, who sat staring at their half-eaten scones resting on the coffee table. “I’d be sa
d if you didn’t.”
Jilly drank the last of her tea and stood. “I’d better go. I have homework.”
Together they repacked the backpack, including the porcelain dogs, and walked to the door. Henry followed.
“Tomorrow, same time?” Willow asked as she opened the door.
“Yes, but I’ll have to check with Nan or Dad first.”
“Smart girl.” Willow winked. Jilly smiled so bright it reached her eyes, squeezing a little something inside Willow’s chest.
Jilly walked off, Henry running ahead of her, but always with an eye on his mistress.
A dark wave of sadness rushed toward Willow, unexpected after all this time. Yet she never forgot. The hysterectomy needed to save her life had just been compartmentalized, stored away so it didn’t take her down. Those damn fibroids just wouldn’t stop growing. Maybe that’s what led to her working so much, along with Richard’s distance after the procedure.
The joy brought by Jilly and Henry faded. She shut the door, already looking forward to their visit tomorrow.
Instead of calling Eddie for a ride back to the B and B, she packed her belongings and left the house. A walk in the fresh country air and beautiful September day might offer freedom from her troubles in New York.
On her way down the dirt-paved driveway, she looked forward to returning to the B and B, a place starting to feel like her home away from home.
Chapter 8
Willow’s phone alarm beeped, waking her exactly thirty minutes after she’d lain down for a nap. She showered and sorted through her luggage until she found a pair of so-called skinny jeans that she grabbed, along with a loose peasant top and black flats. Suitable attire for the pub Edna recommended last night.
About to blow-dry her hair, she stopped and studied the outlet on the wall, which didn’t match the one on her blow-dryer cord. Of course. She hadn’t packed an adaptor for it.
Willow headed to the lobby. No signs of Edna or Eddie, so she went to the sunroom, where she found Edna putting some used plates from the glass coffee table onto a tray.
“Hi Edna.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re back. We missed you at tea today.” Edna leaned over and picked up the tray. “Did you need me for something?”
“Yes. I forgot a converter for my blow-dryer. You don’t have a spare one I could borrow, do you?”
Edna straightened. “Your what?” Her forehead wrinkled.
“Blow-dryer. To dry my hair.”
“Oh, a hairdryer. Sure. Just one sec while I put these in the kitchen. I’ll meet you back by the reception desk.” She hurried off.
Willow waited back in reception, but before Edna even reached the room, her voice traveled down one of the hallways. “Tell me, Willow. How did it go at your grandparents’ house today?” She rushed in, huffing and puffing. “Get a lot done, did you?”
“I’d call it a decent start.”
“Oh good. Now let me get that hairdryer.” She disappeared through the door behind the desk. A few seconds later, she exited, carrying one. “Keep it while you’re here.” She leaned on the counter. “I imagine most of their belongings were still there?”
She nodded. “There’s a lot to be packed. Oh, I saw some pretty angel figurines. I know you said they were active in church.”
“Yes. They attended St. Mary’s, like my family. Had I mentioned your grandfather served as deacon?”
“Not before. So he was very involved?”
“Oh yes. Served on the church boards, too.” She tipped her head, frowning. “And your mum never talked to you about them?”
Willow shook her head. “I grew up believing she’d moved to the States after they passed away.” A fact filling her with increasing resentment.
Edna bowed her lower lip and her double chin popped. “It’s really quite a shame. They’d have loved spending time with their grand—wait! I know who might be able to answer your questions!”
“Who?”
“Hettie McBride. A close friend of your grandmother. Goodness, they co-chaired so many of the church events.”
Willow held in her glee. This could be just the break she needed to learn more. “Any idea where I can find her?”
“Edna?” Eddie called from another room. “Where did you put the cookies we got at the store the other day?”
Edna rolled her eyes and raised her voice. “Sweetheart, I’ll be with you in a minute.” She lowered it and said to Willow, “They’re hidden. I swear. That man is going to kill himself if he doesn’t start listening to the doctor.” She cleared her throat. “Now let me think. Hettie isn’t in Bitton anymore. She moved in with her son quite a few years back, but I don’t remember where they went. How about I ask around?”
“That would be wonderful.” Willow reached out and squeezed Edna’s hand. “Thank you so much.”
Edna squeezed back. “No bother at all.” She glanced toward the kitchen as the sound of drawers opening and closing carried into the lobby. “Let me go see what he’s doing. Enjoy your dinner.”
Edna scurried off, hollering, “Eddie Clemmens. If you’re hungry, have an apple. Don’t you care about your heart?”
On her way back to her room, Willow smiled. Their loving arguing was similar to moments she’d witnessed with her mother and stepfather. The kind of arguing when you care. Willow and Richard had never fought like that and she’d taken it as a sign they had a good marriage. In truth, though, both were too busy to care. Their marital problems came into sharper focus, forcing her to see that perhaps it had died long before he’d cheated and fell in love with someone else.
As she dried her hair, she discarded further thoughts about her failed marriage and focused on the idea a woman named Hettie McBride might hold the key to unanswered questions.
Willow applied makeup, fluffed her hair to her shoulders, and studied the result. For the first time in two days, her eyes sparkled and she looked happy. The only setback? The fullness of her cheeks since gaining weight, making her reflection seem like a stranger each time she glanced in a mirror. Or was the stranger the skinnier woman who had driven her hard for so many years?
* * * *
Willow’s taste buds watered as she closed the Rory’s menu. A rather extensive offering compared to pubs at home.
Music floated in the air, song after song from the 1960s. Willow couldn’t resist tapping her foot to “Be My Baby.”
The young woman who’d taken her drink order a few minutes ago returned, her long legs doing justice to a pair of flared jeans. She carried herself with a gentle swagger of confidence, an attitude that suited her short black hair with soft spikes on top.
“Here you go, miss.” She lowered a tall beer, with a frothy head skimming the top, onto the table. “I forgot to tell you my name is Bonnie. I’ll be taking your order, too.”
“Then I’ll have the fish-and-chips, side of mushy peas.” She’d never heard of the side dish but was feeling adventurous.
Bonnie scribbled on her pad. “Good choice. I’ll put in your order. Cheers!”
Willow watched the waitress walk away, envious of her nice shape. Her own tight waistband squeezed her midsection, reminding her that ordering fried food wasn’t the smartest move.
At some point, she needed to address her weight issues. How could the ability to control her weight, a huge part of her life for so long, vanish overnight? She’d lived and breathed by those five principles that ultimately became the Pound Busters’ Five Commandments of Weight Loss.
The day she’d sat down and put her philosophy to paper, everything in her life changed. Nobody believed in her, but she’d held firm. Naysayers couldn’t stop her. The five rules had saved her, drove her, inspired her to lose weight and even stay thin. And her regime worked, because it inspired others to do the same.
So what, though? Commandment One stated Balance is Best.
So why shouldn’t she eat fried food every so often? Balance, right?
She reached for the beer, taking a long sip that went down cool and smooth. Worries about the high-calorie meal vanished as she considered a new diet rule: when you are in another country, calories don’t count.
Getting out her planner to get organized for the day tomorrow, she glanced around Rory’s Pub. If Edna hadn’t recommended it, Willow might have skipped past. The plain and uninviting exterior, some kind of poured concrete livened up with a golden-tan paint, wouldn’t have made her wander in. Inside, though, possessed old-world, cozy charm. Rich, dark wood beams were set into white walls holding knickknacks in eclectic groupings, like dated brass instruments, sports paraphernalia, and paintings that all somehow worked in perfect harmony. A brick fireplace glowed and large picture window looked out onto the street.
When she’d first entered, she’d expected the place to be like bars in the US. Yet, as she sat here, even an outsider like her got a sense of a more relaxed vibe. Maybe because of the man wearing a suit and loosened tie sitting in the far corner, reading a newspaper and nursing his beer. Or the laughter of the two couples at a nearby table who sampled appetizers and drank from frothy mugs while they played a game of cards. The British seemed to occupy pubs in the same way Americans occupied coffee shops.
She flipped open the planner and started a chore list. First, she’d contact Owen about needing an electrician. The gross brown water she’d found on day one would require a plumber, too. Next, in big letters she wrote COTTAGE. The roof needed some work, but depending on what Owen’s contact said, she might or might not do it. The main house would be her primary focus.
The distant expression on Owen’s face when he’d talked to her about the cottage bothered her. When it came up, he’d lost his usual easygoing manner. But maybe she shouldn’t read into it too much. If he wanted her to know something, he’d surely speak up.
After listing each room and the day she planned to conquer its cleanup, she put the planner away and took out her phone. An email from the Board of Directors of Pound Busters had arrived in the morning, New York time. Earlier, she’d ignored an incoming call from Nikki.
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