A Christmas to Cherish (A Festive Christmas #4)

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

“ H ow did the plate of fries offend you?”

Emma blinked, looked up from her plate, and frowned. “What?”

Jack stood behind the bar in his usual flannel and jeans, using a rag to wipe an empty glass. “You look like you want to punch someone.”

Emma’s lips twitched. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just trying to work out a puzzle.”

Jack turned the glass over and wiped the other side. “Want to tell me what it is?”

Emma sat up straighter and smiled at the music wafting through the overhead speakers, the smell of eggnog making her stomach grumble. “I thought you loved guessing games.”

Jack chuckled and threw the rag over his shoulder. “Yeah, but you have to give me clues first.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Jack leaned against the counter and gave her a lopsided smile. “Come on, not even one clue?”

Emma shrugged.

“What if I told you something in return?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Like what? That you have a kid and a wife hidden away somewhere?”

Jack choked back a laugh. “I do have a kid, but he’s not hidden away. He’s twenty-five, and he lives in Rockport. I have no idea what’s become of my ex though.”

Emma tilted her head to the side and blinked. “Oh, wow. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.”

He had given her a lot more personal information than she’d bargained for, and she had no idea how it made her feel.

Only that the thought of Jack with someone else still made her queasy.

Of course, he’d moved on with his life.

It had been years, after all.

Emma set her phone face down on the counter and smiled. “I was just thinking about the eclipse and the supposed Sullivan treasure.”

Jack nodded and began to wipe the table. “Yeah, I was thinking it would be really helpful if it turned out those rumors were true. What, with the bank notice and all.”

Emma’s blood turned to ice as the smile slipped from her face. “Bank notice?”

“Yeah, Henry asked me to take a look at the paperwork since I used to work at a bank, and I even asked an old buddy of mine to look into it since he was a lawyer, but since Henry is way behind on his payments, there isn’t much that can be done…”

Emma held a hand up, and it felt like the room around her was growing smaller.

Jack wasn’t making any sense.

The Sullivan property wasn’t in any danger. How could it be?

And why wouldn’t she know about it?

Suddenly, she thought of her father’s cryptic letter, urging her to come home, and she wondered if it had anything to do with Jack’s revealation.

It had to be the reason why Henry had wanted her to come back.

Except she was a family lawyer, and she didn’t know the first thing about property law.

Jack trailed off and straightened his back. He peered at her, and his eyebrows drew together. “I’m guessing by the look on your face that you didn’t know about any of this.”

Emma gripped the counter to keep from keeling over. “You are still good at guessing.”

Why did they go to Jack, of all people, for help?

And why was she finding out here, of all places?

She’d ducked into Harper’s Brew after hours spent with Marley combing through research and books in the library, in the hopes of coming up for air. Her feet had led her to the Brew before she knew what she was doing, and she hadn’t talked herself out of it.

Now, she wished she had.

Why had her father summoned her back after all this time?

And what did the upcoming eclipse have to do with any of it?

“I’ll get you something to drink. You look like you could use it.” Jack reached behind him for a bottle of merlot and poured a generous amount into a glass. In the background, someone called his name, and he offered her a sheepish smile before disappearing behind a set of doors that led into the back.

Emma downed her drink in one gulp and reached into her purse for her wallet.

She left a few bills on the counter, bundled up, and paused to tighten the scarf around her neck. In the doorway, she paused to peer at the flurry of freshly fallen snow and frowned.

At the library, Emma was shivering and trying to bring some warmth back to her extremities. She alternated between skimming through the books Marley had left for her and turning Jack’s words over and over in her head.

The bank couldn’t take the estate, not after everything her parents had sacrificed to build a good life.

They’d both poured their blood, sweat, and tears into the place, and none of it seemed fair to her.

As the hours rolled by, Emma sat at a table in the back, her mind racing with possibilities, and her stomach only tightened further. Marley came to check on her a few times, her face flushed with color as she took care of inventory. When it was time for Emma to leave, she sat outside in the car, peering through the windshield.

Jules came out a few times to beckon her in, the moon high in the sky behind her, but Emma kept waving her away.

She wasn’t ready to go in yet, not when she had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth.

Emma wasn’t sure if she was ready to confront Henry about the motive behind sending the letter, and she had no idea if she wanted to know why she really came back.

All she knew was that sitting in the toasty car, in the middle of a flurry, listening to Christmas music on the radio made her feel like the world around her wasn’t spinning.

Over the next few days, Emma spent as little time at home as possible, opting to take Jules out ice-skating and have breakfast at Harper’s Brew. While Jules was getting acquainted with the town, Emma sequestered herself in a quiet corner of the library.

She desperately hoped it had the answers she was looking for.

Even when a small part of her knew it couldn’t.

On the fifth day after learning about the foreclosure, Marley came to find her and pulled out a bean bag to sit on. She tucked the skirt around her, brushed lint off her sweater, and took off her glasses, hazel eyes swimming with concern. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Emma lowered the book and blew out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Marley leaned forward to pat Emma’s hand. “That’s okay. Why don’t we just sit here together? I’ve got a break anyway.”

Emma placed the book on her lap and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Do you ever feel conflicted about something, but you’re not sure if finding out the truth would make things better?”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“I found out from Jack that my parents’ finances aren’t doing so good, specifically the house, and it makes me wonder if the real reason my dad asked me to come back is because of the foreclosure notice.”

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

A part of her wanted to blame her dad for only reaching out when he needed help.

Why couldn’t he just be ready to put the past behind him?

Why did bringing her back have to come with strings attached?

You haven’t exactly made it easy for them, either. Especially after Andrew passed…

But deep down, a part of her had clung to the belief, someday, things would get better. She didn’t think there was a magical fix, but with Jules getting older, it was only a matter of time before Emma was left to her own devices, and she didn’t want to face life by herself.

Having her parents around was exactly what she needed, but she didn’t know how to begin to ask, or if there was still a chance after all these years.

Marley exhaled, and Emma lowered her head to look at her. “Look, I know it must be upsetting to find out that way, but I’m sure they were just trying to protect you. Your parents have been through a lot. Between the foreclosure and your mom’s illness—”

Emma’s ears rang as she held her hand up. “My mom’s what ?”

Marley sat up straighter and ran a hand over her face. “She didn’t tell you?”

Emma tasted bile as she shook her head.

What else had they been keeping from her?

Suddenly, her parents felt like strangers who shared the same DNA.

Why did everyone in town know about their personal business when they’d kept secrets from their own daughter?

Why hadn’t they just reached out to her?

Emma thought she was going to empty the contents of her stomach then and there, and it felt like the ringing in her ears was only growing louder.

Were the walls closing in around her, or was she just imagining things?

“You should probably talk to your mom,” Marley murmured, her eyes darting away and then back again. “I don’t feel comfortable being the one telling you.”

“She won’t tell me anything, and neither will my dad. Marley, please . I need to know.”

Marley swallowed and began to polish her glasses. “I don’t have a lot of details, but I remember that she got sick a few years ago, and no one knew what was wrong. Rumor has it she missed out on a lot of roles because of it, and your dad had to step back from his work for a little while to take care of her.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “It was that serious?”

Marley put her glasses back on and grimaced. “I really don’t know the details. You should talk to your mom. I’m sure if she realized it was coming from a place of concern, she’d feel comfortable telling you.”

Emma nodded, her head still swimming with possibilities.

When Marley got up, she squeezed Emma’s shoulder on her way past.

For the rest of the afternoon, Emma sat in the bean bag in her quiet corner, the words fading in and out of focus and the niggling sensation in the back of her skull compounding. She made herself get up to leave when the sun began to set below the horizon, bathing the world in hues of pink and purple.

During the drive back home, Emma had to pull over a few times because her chest kept tightening.

She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.

It seemed like she never would again.

The house was empty when she pulled up next to the curb and killed the engine. For a while, she sat there, clenching and unclenching the steering wheel while her heart pounded in her ears. Finally, she forced herself out, and with trembling hands, she took the keys out of her pocket. The front door creaked open, silence rising up to meet her as she wandered through the house.

Emma found herself in the attic before she knew what she was doing.

She sat down on the hardwood floor, and by the light of a single bulb and the silver glow of the moon, Emma rifled through a few of the boxes. Jules’s voice wafted up a short while later, as Emma was flipping through an old photo album, perusing through pictures of herself and her parents over the years. From school recitals to ballet practice and everything in between, all of the pictures showed a happy, normal, and well-adjusted family.

But Emma knew the truth behind what they projected to the world and what went on behind closed doors.

Growing up, her mom had insisted the Sullivans put their best foot forward, and it meant decorating the house and filling it with things they didn’t need, all to keep up appearances. Behind the glossy veneer, everything had felt empty and soulless.

Like staring into an abyss.

But now and again, when she was growing up, Emma had almost succeeded in convincing herself it was real, that somewhere under the polish and rehearsed smiles was the potential for a family.

A real one, not the one they pretended to be.

And she had no idea why they had given up pretenses altogether.

What had caused the incomparable Marie Sullivan to give up the ruse?

Emma’s eyes filled with tears as she traced the last picture they took together, the three of them standing around the Christmas tree in the town square, beaming at the camera. It was one of the few pictures that hadn’t been staged or set up with any real goal in mind.

It was the picture they took before she went off to college.

And the last one they had of the three of them smiling.

When she flipped through the pages, she saw a few pictures of Jules, ones she had sent them over the years, and her heart caved in on itself. Jules’s voice drifted closer, and Emma dashed away the tears before rising to her feet. She was putting the albums away when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Frowning, she pulled out a journal, turned it over, and her heart skipped a beat.

There was no mistaking her grandfather’s initials embossed on the back of the black leather.

But why was it upstairs and not in a drawer in the study with the rest of her grandfather’s belongings?

“Hey.” Jules pushed the door open and brushed off a few more flakes of snow. “I was going to make us all something to eat. You want anything specific?”

Emma spun around to face her daughter and forced a smile to her lips. “Why don’t I give you a hand? It’s getting a little too stuffy up here anyway.”

Smiling, Emma covered the distance between them and paused to pull the door shut behind her.

Arm in arm, the two women climbed down the stairs and into the kitchen, the weight of her grandfather’s journal digging painfully into Emma’s side.

She wasn’t sure she could handle any more secrets.