She hadn’t known it would be the last time she’d set foot inside the two-story Victorian, nor had she guessed what awaited her once the door swung open and her parents welcomed her inside.
Over the years, she’d replayed that visit, recalling with perfect clarity the tinsel strung all over her parents’ living room and stairs, the festive music playing in the background, and the fireplace crackling, casting long shadows across the walls. Emma still remembered the frown that had barely left her father’s face and the anxious looks her mother had kept throwing them. For two weeks, Andrew had done his best to win them over, bending over backward to please them, but her parents had been undeterred.
Nothing he’d said or done was good enough, even though he and Emma had been together for eight years, and their daughter, Jules, had been around for at least half of that time.
It wasn’t until Jack Harper, her high school sweetheart, kept showing up at the door that she’d put two and two together.
All these years later, the thought of the lengths they’d been willing to go to—just to push them back together—still made her sick to her stomach.
They’d acted like her husband, her dear Andrew, had been beneath them, and not even the knowledge that Jules, theirgranddaughter, was flying down in a few days with her other set of grandparents had swayed them.
Looking back, Emma wondered if anything would’ve.
As she sat there in her chair, trying to recapture snippets of their last conversation, she held the letter in her hands and ignored the pounding of her heart.
After all this time, she still had no idea what had gotten into her parents or why they’d rejected Andrew so vehemently.
Blinking, Emma sat up straighter, and her gaze drifted to the framed picture on her desk.
It showed a younger-looking Jules, with freckles scattered all over her face, a thin smile hiding braces, and arms crossed over a hand-knit Christmas sweater. Next to her, Andrew draped his arm over her shoulders, dark hair swept back, all while flashing the camera a million-dollar smile. In the picture, Emma leaned against them, her head tilted back. The Christmas tree’s twinkling lights caught the gold strands in her otherwise auburn hair.
They looked like the picture-perfect family, like something from a Hallmark card.
Seeing how happy they were and knowing it would all be ripped away from them a few short years later didn’t sit well with her.
It stirred the familiar ache in her chest and a pang of loneliness.
When had it all gone so wrong?
Emma didn’t realize she was crying until the fingers she pressed to her cheek came away damp.
She was rummaging through her drawer for a pack of tissues when a familiar voice caught her attention. Startled, she sat up and rubbed her face dry, forcing a smile to her lips. Jules was leaning over Roger’s desk, a red-and-green package held out to him and a warm smile on her face.
Roger’s face turned a bright red as he reached over to take it and returned her grin.
Jules called something over her shoulder and crossed the carpet to get to the office. In her dark jeans and oversized red sweater, she looked so much like her father that it made Emma pause. When Jules stepped in and lifted her blue eyes to her mother, another pang of loneliness hit, even stronger than the last.
She was the spitting image of her father, and sometimes, it rendered Emma speechless.
Today, of all days, was no exception.
Jules swung her tote bag over her shoulder and placed it in one of the wooden chairs opposite Emma’s desk. “Are you okay, Mom? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat and coughed. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just reading over the letter your grandpa sent.”
Jules perched on the edge of the seat and raised a dark brow. “Did you just say Grandpa sent you a letter?”
In a daze, Emma thrust the letter out and waited for Jules to take the piece of paper.
She forced herself to sit down and heard her mother’s voice in her head, accusing her of becoming a corporate sellout and turning her back on her roots.
All these years later, her parents still didn’t understand the good she was doing, and she feared they never would.
Not when their heads were buried in the clouds.
Still, Emma couldn’t deny the letter had stirred something within her, a strange yearning for the sleepy seaside town she’d grown up in—for the parents who had cruelly rejected her all those years prior.
She had no idea why they still had a hold on her after all this time, but she couldn’t deny the feelings they evoked or the pull she felt at her father’s words.
