I knew that was true. But I wanted to be present for as much of my child’s life as possible. She didn’t have a mom. Not one who wanted to be with her daily, anyway. I always wanted Noelle to feel important and safe. Even if that meant being lonely.
I changed the subject, knowing my dating life—or lack thereof—would be brought up in no time.
“You like Keith, right?” I pondered aloud, thinking of Jena and Keith’s not-so-secret relationship.
Keith was a good guy and he happened to be the mayor of our sleepy town. He was actually the youngest mayor Grand Haven had ever had. He was my age, and his parents owned a diner on the outskirts of town where we used to hang out. “Liking him is one thing. Him dating my only child is another. You’ll see how it is.”
CHAPTER 3
Grace
Flippingthrough the channels on the television, I settled on old reruns of a sitcom. Julia and I used to watch this show religiously growing up and we’d wish we had a family that was wholesome instead of the dysfunctional one we were saddled with.
I let out a wistful sigh as I watched the best friends sit down to hash out their differences. It was a reminder that I didn’t have anyone to turn to now that Julia was gone. I hated to admit it, but I felt lonely. It was the first time I was really alone,ever. It seemed like everyone hated me immediately after the scandal. My calls went unanswered for the last eight months. Texts left on read. When I’d called Cordelia, I’d thought time and distance would have been enough, but apparently it wasn’t.
On the commercial break, there was an advertisement for a bed-and-breakfast in a small town in Upstate New York—Grand Haven. The name sounded familiar, so I walked over to the bureau where I threw the magazines from the gift shop. After tossing the ones with my face on them in the trash, I came across a travel guide with the words “Grand Haven” sprawled out on it. It showcased the same tree-lined oasis with greenery as wasin the commercial, and it was marketed as an escape from the city. Escape from the day-to-day. Grand Haven’s charming Main Street was the prime attraction featured in the magazine. Lined with brick storefronts and vintage lampposts with twinkling lights strung between them, it was like stepping into a movie. “Unplug and recharge” was their motto. From the promotion, it gave me vibes of a family-oriented town where everybody cared about you and knew your name.
I turned off the television but couldn’t stop thinking about Grand Haven. A sleepy small town was exactly what I needed. I hadn’t roamed or explored anything but my inner demons. A weekend away would do me good. The city had changed, and I was essentially homeless as I awaited the sale of my brownstone. Might as well do some soul-searching with fresh air and hopefully peace and quiet. Getting out of the city might just be what I needed to help me heal and gain clarity.
I grabbed my phone and googled the name of the B&B. I wondered if they even offered online reservations. Luck was on my side because not only did they have the option to book online, but they also had an opening for this weekend.
I pressed “book a reservation” and hoped I wouldn’t regret it.
As I stepped off the train, it was as though I was catapulted into what felt like a parallel universe. In some ways, it was another world. A place that was quiet and calm. There was no noise from mass transportation, no yelling, nobody shoving to get through hordes of people. All you heard were birds chirping and the faint sound of people quietly going about their days.
Everything was clean, green, and quaint. Grand Haven was something out of a movie or a holiday catalog. It had character, acharm even. Something about it tugged at my heart. The air was so clean and crisp, it almost made me choke.
My mother loathed small towns, which made my decision to escape to one perfect. My sister often helped point out my mother’s snobby behavior, for which I was thankful. However, it was easy to become immune to the pretentious nature of the people I was surrounded with. If there was anything to be grateful for about my sabbatical, it was getting a break from being submerged in the world of superficial and status. I’d come to realize practicing gratitude was fundamental.
I didn’t know much about Grand Haven, but I did have GPS on my phone or so I thought. Apparently, this sleepy town wasn’t equipped with advanced cell service because my phone was not working. Nevertheless, any place where acquaintances of mine didn’t notice me was a win. Pre-scandal, I’d avoided places like this like the plague. Now it felt heavenly.
I walked aimlessly, my feet aching as I wandered through the cobblestone streets. I didn’t have a clear idea of the direction I was supposed to go for this seemingly perfect bed-and-breakfast. The Grand Bed and Breakfast, cute name.
I got a few questioning looks as I walked up what I presumed was the main street. I was starting to second-guess my impulsive decision, especially as the pain in the soles of my feet became more noticeable. Why did I only pack heels?
My mother always said, “Beauty is pain, Grace.” I hated that expression.
Since my phone was proving to be useless, I decided I would have to find this bed-and-breakfast the old-fashioned way. By asking a local.
I spotted a blue awning that had “Nuts About Coffee” written in cursive. This shop seemed like a safe place to ask for directions. Plus, I could use a second cup of coffee.
The bell rang as I swung the door open. The smell of coffee beans permeated the air, and I was giddy because I knew this coffee was going to be fresh.
I moved toward the counter, my gaze landing on the extensive menu behind the barista. The woman behind the counter looked stern with a frown on her face. She blew a silver strand of hair out of her face as she continued to wipe down mugs with methodical precision. Her name tag read, “Ms. Kenzie.”
“Hi, I’m new to town,” I began hesitantly, offering a cautious smile. “What’s good here?”
The woman barely glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Coffee,” she deadpanned, her tone indicating I had asked a stupid question.
I grimaced and turned, noticing a woman shyly observing our exchange. She appeared to be around my age, mid-twenties. Her hair was tangled and her clothes were slightly too large for her slender frame. Her hands had crumpled-up dollar bills and she trembled a little as I approached.
“Hey,” I greeted, offering a gentle smile. “Do you have a recommendation? What’s your favorite thing here?”
Her eyes flickered to me briefly, both wide and cautious. Quickly, her gaze went to the floor and she timidly murmured, “The blueberry muffins.”
I nodded warmly, noticing her fingers anxiously twisted the hem of her oversized T-shirt. I turned my attention to Ms. Kenzie behind the counter and said, “Well, I’m sold. One French vanilla iced coffee and a blueberry muffin.” I paused before turning to ask the young woman, “Would you like one too? My treat.”
She hesitated, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. Her gaze met mine and she nodded. “Yes, please.” Her voice was still soft but slightly more confident.
