Renee studied her young neighbor, noticing how shy, almost crestfallen, she now seemed.
What a legacy to carry on between her legendary grandma and perfectly poised and astonishingly capable mother. It must be overwhelming being back here at times.
“Can I give you a lift home?” Renee asked Sadie when the fund-raiser started winding down.
“Oh, I drove. I’ll be fine getting back. Thank you, though. Do you need a lift?” she lowered her voice. “Because I’m officially on designated-driver duty for the next nine months.”
“I’ll head home a little later, but let me at least walk you out,” Renee insisted.
Sadie gave hugs all around before she and Renee walked out into the brisk night. “Thanks again for including me tonight,” she said. “It’s always fun getting to hear stories about my grandma.”
“She was a special person, just like you.”
As Sadie nodded, Renee noted the circles under her sad eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“No,” Sadie admitted. “But I will be.”
Renee squeezed Sadie’s hand, hoping to offer her some small comfort. “Call me if you need anything. Okay?”
She regretted it as soon as it came out of her mouth—surely, her neighbor would find her suffocating, just as Tansy likely did off in California—but instead, Sadie hugged her tighter, whispering, “Promise.”
Renee walked back into Chickadee Studios and returned to her seat.
“Hey lady.” Essie raised her perfectly arched eyebrows in Renee’s direction. “I have a proposition to make.”
Renee arched a brow in return, as this was classic Essie Park. She was always coming up with big ideas, like the time she ran for class president and promised the school soda pop from the drinking fountains and dance parties every Friday afternoon. “And what’s that?”
“I don’t want to give too much away now, but how about you meet me at my office tomorrow morning for coffee?”
Chapter Seven
Sadie slumped in the front seat of the minivan, hands still gripping the steering wheel at ten and two, and studied her cottage—her grandma’s home, the place where she was building her own family. Hearing the stories about Grandma Hester had opened up a vein of bittersweet nostalgia.
She thought of the way her mom used to drop her off, and as soon as her feet hit the pavement, Grandma would be pushing open that front door and ambling down the path to meet her.
“Ready to bake?” she’d always call out.
Her grandma’s ramshackle style was a welcome haven from her more orderly, quiet home. She missed her so much even though she’d died right after Sadie had started high school. It made her happy to think that so many other people had joyful memories of her grandma and her cooking too.
Sighing, she surveyed the yard. Ethan had surprised her with two big hydrangea bushes for her last birthday, but they looked dejected and twiggy now. They wouldn’t bloom until midsummer.
Taking a deep breath, Sadie dropped her keys into her purse, exited the car, and approached the alcove doorway like it was a medieval gallows. Ethan’s car was still parked in the other spot, despite the fact that he’d been determined to floor it to Boston only a few hours ago. Was she relieved? Anxious? Disappointed?