Cora smiled assuringly. “That’s not all that is bothering you, though, is it?”
Erin shook her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Erin opened her mouth to finally tell her mother what was happening to her, but no words came, and her thoughts became jumbled. That’s how it had been for some time now. Whenever she tried to confide her deepest secrets and fears, a mental block always stopped her.
“Hey. You don’t have to tell me today,” Cora soothed. “I want you to know that I’m here whenever you’re ready. I’ll always be here,” she assured her daughter.
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that.”
Cora beamed and got to her feet, then rounded the table. She opened her arms, and Ern fell into them, feeling the safety and love it promised.
ChapterFourteen
“I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you…”
Marg shook her head to dispel the memory of her last conversation with Ben more than a week ago. Images of the proposal and her ultimate rejection flashed across her mind as they had been since that day. Had she made the right choice in turning down an offer to spend the rest of her life with the man that she loved? Was it okay to want a child at her age? What if nothing that she wanted worked out, and she ended up alone? She shuddered at the thought.
Her brain told her that she did the right thing, but her heart ached for Ben. She missed his voice. He hadn’t called or texted. He hadn’t even shown up at the inn. Every time her phone rang, her heart beat wildly against her chest with the expectation that it was him calling, and when it turned out not to be, she was left disappointed.
“What’s burning?”
Marg’s gaze immediately dropped to the frying pan to see black smoke rising from it and the bacon strips that she’d been frying charred around the edges. She fanned the smoke with a dish towel while she turned off the stove.
“It smells awful in here.”
Marg looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest as she wrinkled her nose.
“I’m sorry. I got distracted, and the bacon burned,” Marg apologized.
“Distracted by what?” Alice asked, walking further into the kitchen.
“Um, I forgot to do something at work, and I was thinking about the best way to handle it. I didn’t remember I had the stove on,” she lied.
“Sounds serious,” Alice said, simply coming to stand by Marg at the stove. She reached over and removed the frying pan and took it over to the kitchen sink.
“It is,” Marg replied. “You don’t have to do that.” She went after Alice. “I can clean up after myself.”
“I know you can,” Alice replied. Removing the strips of burnt bacon, she threw them in the bin. She then turned on the water, allowing it to run over the grease.
Marg folded her arms across her chest, a scowl on her lips.
“You can go have a seat. I’ll look after breakfast,” instructed Alice, oblivious to her daughter’s annoyance.
“Why do you always do this?” Marg asked, her voice tight.
“Do what?” Alice returned, looking over at her with a raised brow.
Marg unfurled her hands and gestured to the sink. “This!” she exclaimed. “Take over when I didn’t ask you to. Making it look like I can’t do anything right,” she went off.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Alice waved her off. “I’m simply trying to help out because, as you said, you’re distracted by work. I’m sure you don’t want to burn any more food that you’ll have to replace because God knows you don’t make enough money at that inn for that.”
“Are we back to this again?” Marg asked incredulously. “Why do you always attack my work? I’m happy with what I do, and I make enough.”
“You shouldn’t have to settle with just making enough.” Alice shook her head, disputing. “You should have a job that pays you handsomely for that degree you spent all that money to get.”
“Money, I spent to get,” Marg emphasized. “I paid for it, not you, and certainly not Tra— Dad. However, I choose to use it is up to me.”
