“So basically you’re saying I need to fix up an old house, start a business, and find myself,” Amy said with a giggle.
“And fall in love,” Emily added. “So you’ve ticked one box.”
Amy sighed. “I know. That just makes it harder. I don’t want to walk away from what I have with Harry but I just don’t know if I can be happy here.”
Emily reached across the table and held her friend’s hand. “Is this because of what happened with Fraser? I really don’t want that one bad experience to taint this. Because I’m sure you can tell it’s completely different. What you and Harry have is a thousand times better than what you and Fraser did.”
“Is it though?” Amy said with a strained voice. “At least Fraser and I were from the same worlds. We wanted similar things. Holidays and careers and property. Kids, but there’d be a nanny to help, obviously. Harry is the opposite of that. He’s … I don’t know. Rustic? He’s…”
“…he’s Sunset Harbor,” Emily said with a decisive nod. She knew exactly what Amy was getting at. “But need I remind you that Fraser was a cheat? Harry would never do that. He’s honest and kind and loyal. That’s what you get with a Sunset Harbor man.”
Joe arrived with their waffles and Emily’s coffee. The two friends hunkered down, continuing their conversation.
“The thing is,” Amy added, “you never had to worry about this stuff. Like, you and Daniel didn’t have to debate about long distance or who would move where. It was always going to be here. But Harry and I seem to talk about it endlessly. Could we be long distance? Can I really leave my life behind, my business, for a man? It’s against everything I stand for!”
Emily smiled and sighed. “Amy, is that really what’s holding you back? Or is it something else?”
Amy chewed her waffle slowly. “I honestly don’t know. I’m so on the fence.”
“Do you think you might just be scared?” Emily asked. “I know you don’t get scared, that you’re a confident, no-nonsense businesswoman, but is there just a small chance that perhaps you’re scared of the fact that Harry adores you and that he might be the One, and that if you move your life here and take that risk you might be happy?”
“I guess,” Amy said. “But it’s not happy I’m scared of. It’s content. It’s… bored.”
She looked at Emily apologetically. Emily knew Amy was suggesting that life in Sunset Harbor was boring, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t change it for the world. If this was boring she’d take it over exciting any day!
“Maybe I should go back to the city for a bit,” Amy said. “Clear my head. Check in with the business. Remind myself of my roots, you know?”
“If you think it will help,” Emily said. She forked some waffle and put it in her mouth. “Man, I haven’t been back to New York City in ages.”
Amy’s eyes widened then. “Oh my God! Come with me!”
Emily looked at her, surprised. “Um…”
“Please, Em,” Amy added. “We can have a long weekend together. I’ll throw you a layette shower, since the last shower was a bust.”
Emily blushed as she remembered how she’d awkwardly run out on the baby shower Amy had arranged for her. She couldn’t help but hesitate.
“Please, please, please,” Amy continued. “You deserve some time off. And the rush of the summer is over. I’m sure the inn can survive without you for a few days.” Amy snapped her fingers then. “And if we have the shower in New York City, your mom can come!”
Emily instantly recoiled. “Okay, now I definitely don’t want to come,” she said, remembering the huge fight she and Patricia had been in last time they spoke. Indeed, every time they spoke.
“Em,” Amy said with a maternal tone. “She’s about to become a grandmother for the first time. How long is this rift between you going to last?”
“Forever,” Emily said glumly. “You have met my mom, haven’t you?” she added wryly.
But as she thought it over, she realized there was one very important thing she needed to speak to her mom about, something that couldn’t be done over the phone. And that was Roy’s illness. She needed to know.
“Actually,” Emily said, “I am overdue a trip to New York City. Maybe my mom will be less of a handful in her own territory.”
Amy clapped her hands. “Really? This weekend?”
Emily shrugged. “I guess so.”
When was a good time to tell your mom her ex-husband was going to die? There didn’t seem like a solution to Emily, so the approaching weekend was as good a time as any.
Amy bounced up and down in her seat, excited. “This is going to be so much fun. I’m going to tell Harry.”
She grabbed her cell phone and punched in his number. At the same time, Emily’s cell began to ring.
She pulled it from her pocket and answered it at the same time as Amy. It really was like their old New York City days!
“Is this Mrs. Morey?” the voice on the other end asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“It’s Miss Butler, Chantelle’s teacher. I’m sorry to disturb you but there’s been an incident. I think you should come in.”
Emily leaped up. “What kind? Is Chantelle okay? Is she hurt?”
“She’s fine,” Miss Butler replied. “It’s a behavioral incident.”
Emily frowned. What did that mean?
“I’m on my way,” she said, hanging up and slinging her cell into her purse.
Amy was chatting with Harry on the phone, but she looked up at Emily, using her amazing multitasking abilities to carry on a wordless conversation with her friend without missing a beat in her telephone call.
“Chantelle,” Emily mouthed. “School.” She mimed a driving motion. Daniel had the car so Amy was her only way of getting there.
Amy nodded and pointed at their waffles. They’d barely eaten them. But Emily shook her head. She had to go right now.
Without questioning her at all, Amy stood, collected her purse and, still chatting with Harry, headed out of the restaurant toward her car, Emily in tow.
As they went, Emily hoped everything worked out between Amy and Harry, because it was in moments like this one, when Daniel was busy and life had thrown a spanner in the work, when Emily needed her friends more than ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
As Amy drove Emily back to the school, Emily felt her nerves increasing. She hated it when Chantelle had a behavioral outburst because it felt like a step backward, and reminded her of the terrible start the girl had had to life, the scars that she still carried despite her happy demeanor.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Amy asked, glancing over at Emily’s pale face in the passenger seat.
Emily didn’t usually bite her nails but the anxiety was making her do so. “No, no, it’s probably best if it’s just me,” she said, feeling flustered, her face stiff with panic.
They reached the parking lot, now empty, and Amy swung into the closest space to the school doors. “Well, I’ll wait here and drive you home when you’re done.”
Emily already had a hand on the door handle, and she shook her head. “Thanks for the offer but I have no idea how long this will take.”
“How will you get home?”
“I’ll figure it out later. Back of Raj’s delivery truck? Handlebars of Cynthia’s bike?” She was cracking jokes, but only as a way to distract herself from her anguish.
Amy smiled tenderly. “Are you sure?”
“I promise,” Emily said, shoving the door open and quickly getting out.
She slammed her door shut and blew Amy a kiss before hurrying as fast as her pregnant belly would allow her up the stone steps. She pressed the intercom button and the receptionist answered, crackling out a greeting.
“Mrs. Morey,” Emily said into the silver speaker. “Chantelle’s mom.”
There was buzz. She heaved the door open and hurried to the desk. It was the same girl as last year, Emily realized, young, freckled, with a sweet smile that showed off a gap between her teeth.
“Hi, Emily,” the receptionist greeted her as she hurried in.
Emily realized – feeling a little distressed at the thought – that she was well known enough at the school for the receptionist to recognize her and remember her name.
“Here’s your visitor badge,” the girl added.
She handed the pass to Emily and Emily saw that she’d written her name in a red marker pen, in cursive, surrounding it with stars. It was a sweet gesture, but Emily was too flustered to appreciate it. Her focus was solely on Chantelle. But she did notice the girl’s name badge: Tilly. She made a point to commit it to memory so that at least the next time she saw the girl, hopefully in less stressful circumstances, she could be kinder.
“They’re down the hall in the counselor’s office,” Tilly said. “Do you know the way?”
“Unfortunately I know it all too well,” Emily replied.
Tilly gave her a sympathetic smile, and Emily hurried off down the hallway to Gail’s office.
Through the small window in the door, Emily saw the familiar bright red couches, the play table, reading nook, dolls house, and art station. She recognized Gail right away, sitting on one of the grown-up-sized chairs with her hair in a neat bun on top of her head. The other two women Emily didn’t know. And Chantelle was nowhere in sight. She could hear her, though, hear her yelling and screaming even through the thick pane of glass in the reinforced fire door.
Emily knocked quickly and saw Gail turn toward the window. Through the glass, she beckoned Emily in.
It was only once she was inside the room that Emily got her first glance of Chantelle. The child was curled up in the corner, crying desperately, surrounded by ripped up pieces of paper.
“What happened?” Emily asked.
“Take a seat,” Gail said. “You’ve met Miss Butler.”
“Actually, no, we didn’t get a chance to meet earlier,” Emily said. She shook the teacher’s hand. It was a terrible way to first meet her, Emily thought. She was a bag of nerves and felt completely frazzled. “You spoke to my husband, Daniel.”
The young teacher smiled politely, giving Emily a glimpse of the sternness that Daniel had noted. “Yes, I remember.”
“And Mrs. Doyle you’ll know,” Gail added.
Emily did a double take then. In her haste, she hadn’t really noticed the third woman in the room, but she realized now that it was the principal. Things must be serious if she was involved!
“So?” Emily said. “Was it the new class that triggered this?”
Gail nodded. “I think we were all aware this might happen. But maybe we should ask Chantelle to explain it to us. Chantelle?” Gail had an incredibly soft, gentle voice. It was the kind of voice that could coax anyone out of a tantrum.
The little girl was sobbing furiously in the corner. “I HATE her!” she yelled.
Emily looked up at Miss Butler, assuming she was the one Chantelle was referring to, and gave her a sympathetic look. She didn’t want the teacher to think it was her fault in any way.
“Who is it that you hate?” Gail continued.
“LAVERNE!” Chantelle screamed.
Emily remembered from Yvonne’s gossiping at the school gate that Laverne was the name of the new girl, the brittle-boned blonde girl whom Bailey had taken under her wing. She’d never heard Chantelle’s voice sound so shrill and piercing, so drenched in hatred. And she’d never seen so much passion in the young girl’s face, so much pain and anguish. Even in her past meltdowns over Sheila, Chantelle had never looked this distressed. Laverne had really gotten to Chantelle. Emily couldn’t begin to fathom what she could have done to cause Chantelle to perceive her to be worse than Sheila.
“Can you explain what happened with Laverne?” Gail asked softly. “We all want to understand why you’re feeling so unhappy.”
Chantelle looked up then, her face red with fury. “She stole Bailey.”
Emily frowned with confusion at the mention of Bailey’s name. She and Chantelle were as thick as thieves.
“What do you mean?” Gail probed.
Chantelle’s expression was one of unfathomable pain and hurt. It upset Emily just to see her that way.
“She said that I have a stupid accent,” Chantelle shouted. “And that Bailey was only allowed one friend with blond hair. Then Bailey told me that Laverne is her new best friend.” Chantelle’s face cracked. Instead of anger, she dissolved into tears, dropping her head onto her knees and weeping bitterly.
Emily’s hand fluttered to her heart. This was too much to bear.
“Can we do something?” Emily asked, looking up at Gail. “You understand how important it is for Chantelle to have consistency in her life.”
“Of course,” Gail replied diplomatically. “You’re good friends with Yvonne, Bailey’s mother, aren’t you? Perhaps you should speak with her about this?”
“I’m not sure how that will help,” Emily replied. “Bailey’s strong-willed. Just because her mother tells her to do something it doesn’t mean she would. Wouldn’t it be easier to just move Laverne into another class so they naturally grow apart?”
Mrs. Doyle looked aghast. “Absolutely not.”
“But look what it’s doing to Chantelle,” Emily exclaimed.
Mrs. Doyle spoke frankly. “Laverne is new here, just like Chantelle was once. She’s made a friend in Bailey and it would be cruel to take that away from her.”
Emily felt her maternal instincts sharpen. “With respect, Laverne doesn’t have the same kind of history as Chantelle. She hasn’t been through the same hardships. Wouldn’t the easiest solution be to switch their classes now? To nip it in the bud before it gets any worse? If Laverne is this mean now, how much worse will she be tomorrow or the day after?”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Doyle said, shaking her head. “But they will have to work through their problems. Gail can guide them, and of course Miss Butler will be overseeing everything in the classroom. There are no quick fixes in these situations, Mrs. Morey. Chantelle’s circumstances don’t come in to it.”
Emily looked appealingly at Gail. “You’re on my side, aren’t you?”
“It’s not about sides,” Gail replied. “I’m here for Chantelle and what’s best for her.”
“Let me guess,” Emily said. “What’s best is for her to come into your office once a week to hash out her feelings? She’s a seven-year-old child. She acts on her emotions, on her feelings. Sitting here talking to you endlessly won’t help with bullying.”
“Our sessions are very valuable,” Gail replied calmly.
“I don’t think we should be so quick to label this bullying,” Mrs. Doyle interjected.
Emily was furious. She felt like everyone was abandoning Chantelle. How was this not bullying?
“Chantelle’s been mocked for her accent. She’s had her best friend taken from her. This new girl has ostracized her. How is that not bullying?”
“Emily,” Gail said softly.
But Emily was exasperated. She felt like no one in the room was prepared to do anything concrete about the situation. All they were offering was more of the same wishy-washy conversations, which felt useless to her right now, like marriage counseling for a couple of kids barely old enough to tie their own shoelaces!
“What?” Emily said furiously to Gail, so close to losing her temper it scared her.
“I have a great deal of experience dealing with these situations,” Gail continued. “I will have Chantelle, Laverne, and Bailey here together. There’s no blame. We just need to work out a way for them all to occupy the same space together.”
Emily had heard enough. “This is absurd. You’re bending over backwards to protect a bully. Come on, Chantelle, we’re leaving.”
Chantelle looked completely surprised. She blinked, her lashes wet with tears, then pulled herself to standing. Emily felt a great sense of relief when the girl rushed to her and wrapped her arms tightly about her middle. She’d done what she was supposed to as a mother; support her child unconditionally. None of this was Chantelle’s fault and the last thing she wanted was for the child to think that she’d done something wrong. Together, they marched out of the office.
“Mommy, you’re shaking,” Chantelle said as they walked along the corridors, passing Tilly at the reception desk and out onto the stone steps.
“I’m sorry,” Emily replied, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
But Chantelle seemed to have been entirely distracted from her tantrum. “Don’t say sorry,” she said, her eyes wide. “It was cool!”
Emily couldn’t help but feel a little tug at the corner of her lips. “Well, thanks. But don’t go getting any ideas. Shouting at people is not a good way to behave.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Chantelle replied.