Page 11 of Unpacking Secrets

As though Nan would give me an answer, I stared hard at the photo until I no longer heard Juliet and Mrs. Gregson, then I closed my eyes and let my head fall forward.

“I hope she’s got half of your brain, Nan. We need someone like you at the helm, not some clueless stranger. Everyone says you knew what you were doing with this. I want to believe they’re right, that this is a good thing.”

I dropped my hand, taking one last look at the photo before making my way to my office.

Months had passed since Nan found news of her granddaughter after nearly three decades of searching, and I could still see the delight on her face, that radiant glow under the age-spotted, papery skin. Of course, that was only the beginning. One article led to another, and news of her own daughter’s recent death knocked Nan flat, literally and figuratively. The old lady had been tough as nails for as long as I could remember, but at that point her health, her very will to live, started to corrode.

After my grandmother died, Nan became family, taking care of me and my brother after school, loving us like we were her own grandkids. In the last few years, the inn became almost as much my own labor of love as it was Nan’s.

No, I wasn’t going to celebrate bringing in a newcomer with no experience in this business. I’d taken a chance in coming to work at the inn, made a career change that turned out to be fulfilling even if it had its moments of frustration.

“There you are.”

The voice jolted me from my thoughts and I turned to face my grandfather. “Hey, Gramps.”

“I hoped I might find you here. Juliet is having breakfast in the dining room. Alone,” he said pointedly.

“I already ate.”

His usually jovial expression darkened. “She’s a sweet girl, Henry. I might be an old man, but I’m not clueless. I saw the look on her face when she came out of your office yesterday. Whatever happened, you need to remedy it. You will be kind and courteous and welcoming, because that girl has no family left in this world. Nan would be beside herself if she knew anyone or anything was keepingthisfamily from her.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a mixture of shame and frustration simmering under my skin. “I’ll sort it out. You can all stop harping on me.”

“Nan loved you, you know.”

The statement was firm, irrefutable. It lodged in my chest like a bowling ball, crowding out everything else with a swift wave of grief.

“I know,” I whispered.

“She didn’t do this to hurt you, Henry. It wasn’t guilt or vengeance or some kind of lark. Juliet is her only living relative, and Nan wanted this for her.”

I looked up at him and a flood of other memories, good memories, washed over me. Running wild through the inn’s gardens with my brother, having tea and cookies with Nan and Gram after school, learning to wield a hammer at my grandfather’s side to make a birdhouse for Nan’s birthday.

This placewasa family, and I was old enough to recognize that forcing Juliet out of it was an asshole move.

“I’ll fix it. Just . . . it might take some time. She’s got a temper on her.”

Gramps flashed a brilliant grin at me and nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. She’s her mother’s daughter, after all, and Melissa got that straight from Nan.”

With a wink and a flick of his fingers, he left the office and I forced myself to my feet. I figured there was a good chance she’d tell me to get lost the minute I entered the dining room, but for the sake of harmony here at the inn—and to prevent future guilt trips—I'd play nice.

My steps faltered when I caught sight of Juliet sitting by the windows in the otherwise empty dining room. She had a tiny sketchbook next to her plate and I watched for a moment while her pencil danced across the page. Every so often, she paused to take a sip of coffee or a bite of French toast, but her gaze never left the paper.

Get on with it.I puffed out my cheeks on a long exhale and approached her table.

“Good morning.”

She didn’t even glance in my direction when she replied. “Morning.”

“Look, we didn’t get off on the right foot—” I broke off when her furious blue eyes lifted from the paper and locked on mine. Beneath the anger, something else hovered, something heartbreakingly sad, but it evaporated so quickly I thought I might have imagined it.

“You were perfectly clear yesterday in expressing how you see me. There’s no need to discuss it further,” she said, the words dripping with ice despite the burning sapphire of her gaze. “I don’t see any need for us to interact outside of what’s required for the sake of the inn.”

That coldness grated on my already sparking nerves. “How magnanimous of you to deign to speak with the manager ofyourbusiness about such decisions.”

The pencil creaked as her grip tightened around it, drawing my gaze down to the sketchbook. There on the page was a perfectly recognizable drawing of the dining room, but the tables were reconfigured.

“You’ve been here less than a day and you’re making changes already?” I asked, my voice low and nearly vibrating with anger.