Was she going to lose her bakery too?
Chapter Four
Ashley Wilson Hamilton stood in the doorway in a knee-length patterned dress, with a multi-colored shawl draped over it and a brightly colored scarf wrapped around her neck. She shifted from one foot to the other, slipped on her gray ballet flats, and then gave Amy another sidelong look.
Amy ate another spoonful of her oatmeal and twisted in her seat to give her a small smile. “I really am fine.”
“I won’t be gone long,” Ashley added with another quick look over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find someone else to run these errands.”
Amy waved her comment away and stood. “It’s really fine. I can keep myself company.”
Amy already appreciated everything Ashley had done for her, from taking her on a tour the day after her arrival at Provincetown to taking her in while Ben and Lily renovated the beach house.
Ashley was a godsend, and Amy didn’t want her to feel like she was taking advantage, especially when friendship and a sense of camaraderie had blossomed between them.
They were, after all, both housewives who had dedicated their lives to their husbands and kids, but Amy was sometimes painfully aware of the fact that was where the similarities ended. Where Amy’s life had been a series of high-end parties and a revolving door of household staff meant to help her keep everything in spick-and-span order, Ashley’s life couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried.
Over the past few days, Amy had gotten to know more and more about the woman she’d befriended, who had taken a keen interest in her, and everything she learned only made her like Lily’s aunt even more.
Ashley’s home was a place of laughter, love, chaos, and clutter.
It was the exact opposite of what Eric allowed.
And it was a refreshing change for Amy, who’d nearly burst into tears after breaking a glass cup the other day. For a long moment, she’d stood there, waiting for the verbal lashing that never came. In the end, it was the sight of Ashley using a broom and dustpan to sweep up the mess that had snapped her out of her reverie. Afterward, when Ashley made it a point to check on Amy, tears had sprung to the latter’s eyes.
How had she allowed herself to get used to such cruelty and dismissiveness?
And why had she stayed with Eric for so long?
In the beginning, it was easy to convince herself it was for the kids, but as time went on, it got harder and harder to leave him. A part of her suspected it was Eric’s plan all along: to erase any and all semblance of a spirit within her, and he’d almost succeeded too. If it hadn’t been for Lily’s bravery and her continued insistence on maintaining contact, Amy had no idea what she would’ve done.
She suspected she still would be trapped in her luxurious and lonely life, praying and hoping for a miracle.
With a slight shake of her head, Amy dragged herself back to the present with a jolt. Ashley was on the phone now, gesturing furiously as she did. She offered Amy another apologetic smile and stepped out, letting the door click shut behind her. Unlike all of those times Amy was left alone, the silence in Ashley and Jude’s house didn’t bother her.
If anything, she welcomed it because it felt wholly and completely different.
Amy paused to wash her bowl and spoon, and while she waited for the kettle to boil, she wandered around the cottage, picking up and setting down several items as she did. Eventually, she made her way back to the kitchen to sip on her chamomile tea. As she did, she looked out the main window of the kitchen, which offered a side view of the lush green lawn.
Smiling, Amy finished the rest of her tea, and after rinsing her cup, she set it out to dry. In her room, she changed into a pair of dark wide-leg pants and a long, short-sleeved tunic. Then, she slipped her feet into a pair of comfortable black sneakers and stuffed her phone, wallet, and keys into the first purse she got her hands on.
Outside, there was a sharp wind that made her dart back inside for a coat.
Amy had a spring in her step as she set off at a brisk pace, shoes light and soundless against the pavement. She walked past rows and rows of two-story Victorian-style houses that eventually gave way to shops with glass display windows featuring treats, mannequins in shorts and T-shirts, and handmade jewelry. Many of the residents had bright smiles on their faces, and a few were mid-laugh—like they didn’t have a care in the world.
She knew she could never be like them—too much had happened—but she wanted to soak up as much of the positive energy as possible.
So, she wove in and out of the groups of people, pausing only to fish her phone out and dial Sylvie. On the fifth ring, it went to voicemail. With a frown, Amy called Lucas, who answered on the last ring, sounding out of breath and distracted. His voice was distorted and garbled before the line went dead, and she couldn’t get him back on the phone.
Standing in the middle of the street, Amy wondered what she was meant to do next. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have her entire day mapped out, and she didn’t have Eric in the background to make her feel how useless and unproductive it was to do nothing.
After a quick glance around, her eyes lingered on the cursive neon sign out front, and when she drew closer, the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and flour wafted out, making her stomach grumble in protest.
It had been years since she’d indulged in any kind of baked treats, knowing full well that Eric liked her to maintain a certain look.
With a determined set of her shoulders, Amy pushed the door open, pleased when she didn’t find a line leading to the cash register. On either side of her, there were red vinyl booths, picture frames on the cream-colored walls, and smooth jazz music playing through the speakers. Amy only had a few seconds to study the glass display of goodies before she found herself standing in front of a brown-haired woman with wisps of curly hair escaping from her bun and a pair of tight hazel eyes.
“Hi, welcome to Decadent Treats. How can I help you?”
