CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jane Mendoza
Sometimes you come to Maine on a cold, rainy day and end up taking care of a waterlogged kitten. Other times, you come downstairs with your former boss’s hand on your lower back to find his brother’s widow in the kitchen of the inn, making scrambled eggs while that same kitten looks on.
Paige sits at the kitchen island like a tiny queen. “It’s good, Mom,” she proclaims.
Emily gives us a sheepish wave. “I thought about pancakes, but I didn’t want to go through all the cupboards. Eggs seemed easier.”
She stayed here last night. Looking at her here with Paige, it was clearly the right choice. Paige eats her scrambled eggs with a rapturous expression, her blue eyes on Emily. We sit down with them and drink coffee.
All of us try to ignore the conversation we need to have.
When the dishes are in the dishwasher, and everything’s clean, Emily pushes her hair back from her face. “Should we talk at the beach?”
“Good a place as any.”
Paige is thrilled with the idea of the beach. She has plans for another sandcastle. The sunscreen and changing of clothes is less thrilling. There’s some extra jostling and awkwardness while Emily and I try to negotiate who should do which thing. Paige wants me to do her sunscreen, but she wants Emily to help with her bathing suit. This is the last time I’ll do her sunscreen, I think. And then I can’t stop thinking it. This is the last time I’ll find her bathing suit in the dryer. This is the last time I’ll hand her a small plastic shovel that got lost under the couch.
It’s breezy by the time the three of us follow her down to the beach. Paige stakes out the plot for her castle and fills her bucket with water. We pull in three beach chairs to her spot, Beau and I on one side, and Emily a little apart. Her eyes drink in every move Paige makes. I can’t imagine how much she missed this. I can only imagine how much I’m going to.
When Paige is thoroughly absorbed in building her sandcastle, Beau clears his throat. “She should be with you, Emily.”
Her eyes snap to his. “What?”
“Paige should go with you. She belongs with you. She’s missed you, and she loves you, and you’re alive.”
Emily swallows hard. Her eyes go back to Paige, and it’s a long, heavy minute before she speaks.
“I want her to be with me. Of course I do. I want that more than anything. But I think—” My heart hurts for her. Every word she says sounds harder to say than the last. “I think there’s an argument to be made that she’d be better off with you and Jane. If that’s what you think, then I would agree to that. For her.”
Somehow, her eyes have landed on me. I’m the one with the least power in this situation. I don’t have custody of Paige in any way. But it almost feels like Emily is asking my permission. It feels heavy, to have her asking me this. Like I’m weighing the entire world. Beau could keep her, if he wanted to. He could make Emily fight him for custody and hold on to Paige until the bitter end. Bitter doesn’t begin to describe how it would be. It would be worse than bitter. And even if Emily did agree to have Paige stay, I know it would break her heart. I know it. She would never be the same.
“No,” I say, and Emily exhales. “She’s yours.”
“I’m so grateful,” she says breathlessly. “I’m so grateful to the two of you for taking care of her. And for giving her back to me.”
“It’s the right thing.” Beau’s tone is final, but it’s rough. This conversation is so hard. We all want what’s best for Paige. It doesn’t make this process less painful.
“I’m not leaving,” Emily mentions suddenly. “I hope you know.”
“You’re not leaving the inn?”
“I’m not leaving Eben Cape. I’ll obviously find another place to live—somewhere that’s good for Paige—but I’m not going to take her away from everything she knows. That includes you. Both of you.”
Beau reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight. “Emily.”
“I mean it.” Emily wipes at her eyes. “I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t even know if you’re planning to stay here. We’ll figure it out. I’m not taking a damn thing away from her.”
Emily looks so small and alone, sitting by herself. I can’t look at her for another second, so I let go of Beau’s hand and go over to her. It’s only human to give her a hug.
She laughs, her voice quivery, but her arms go around me too. “She loves you, Jane.”
“She’s missed you so much.”
“Why are you hugging?” Paige stands a couple of feet off, her arms crossed over her chest. A red sand shovel pokes up from one fist. “You both look sad.”