Page 24 of A New Home

"No harm done," he replied with a disarming smile. "Easy to mistake a face sometimes, especially in a town like this." He tipped his hat and wandered off, leaving Charlotte alone with the stone angels and her own crestfallen thoughts.

"Where are you, Dad?" she murmured, more to herself than the departed souls around her. She took a moment to compose herself, and as she exited the graveyard, Charlotte's steps led her unwittingly past the picture windows of The Crested Wave, a quaint establishment nestled between a jewelry store and a flower store. Inside, amid the clinking of cups and the murmur of conversation, sat Amelia and Nathan—Sally’s twenty-something son—their heads bent close over shared laughter.

They didn't see Charlotte; they were too enveloped in each other's company, a cocoon of youthful affection. Charlotte's feet rooted to the spot, watching the tableau—a snapshot of innocent romance backdropped by the soft glow of fairy lights and steam rising from mugs of hot cocoa.

For a heartbeat, she considered tapping on the glass, announcing her presence, but something held her back. It was a delicate thing, this burgeoning relationship before her, and she knew better than to rush in clumsily. Instead, Charlotte watched, a silent witness to this new chapter unfolding in her daughter's life.

Amelia looks happy, Charlotte thought, the warmth from the scene seeping into her chilled bones. With a deep breath, Charlotte turned away from the café, a faint smile playing on her lips. It was remarkable, watching Amelia like this—so grown-up, so at ease.

"Mom?" A voice broke through her reverie, and Charlotte jumped guiltily, but it was only a passerby on their phone, oblivious to the depth of Charlotte's internal conflict.

The joy in Amelia's eyes was unmistakable, and it filled Charlotte with a sense of triumph—it was a mother's victory to see her child happy. Yet, there lurked a shadow of frustration; why hadn't Amelia confided in her? She had been playing coy all this time. The thought stung sharper than the chill in the air. Here she was, an outsider to her daughter's life. The realization pinched, but Charlotte knew that to intervene now would be to undermine the very independence she had always encouraged.

Her footsteps echoed on the cobblestones as she paced lightly, wrestling with emotions that tugged in opposite directions. "She's finding her way," Charlotte reasoned, trying to anchor herself in understanding. "Isn't that what I taught her to do?"

But the protective instinct, honed over two decades of motherhood, did not easily relent. Charlotte's hands fidgeted with the hem of her scarf, the woolen fabric slipping through her fingers like the sands of time—Amelia's childhood, slipping away.

"Hi there, are you okay?" The concerned inquiry came from a shopkeeper standing at the entrance of his store, eyeing Charlotte curiously.

"Never better," she replied with a tight smile, her facade uncracked, though her heart was anything but serene. Turning back to the window, she watched as Amelia leaned into Nathan, her head resting against his shoulder in a picture of contentment. Charlotte offered one last glance through the window, then stepped away, her boots crunching softly on the cobblestone path. With each step, she practiced releasing a little more of the tether, allowing space for Amelia.

The cobblestone streets of Chesham Cove lay silent beneath the hush of twilight, and Charlotte found herself alone with her thoughts, the echo of her footsteps as thunderous as her thoughts. The soft glow from the street lamps cast long shadows that danced alongside her, mirroring the tumult of emotions that had held her captive just moments ago.

Charlotte's mind was a labyrinth as she walked home, each step taking her deeper into a maze of confusion and worry. The possibility of her father being in town, a man she hadn't seen in years, loomed over her like a dark cloud. Every stranger in a plaid scarf and navy coat became a potential sighting, a glimmer of hope that quickly fizzled out, leaving her more disheartened.

Then there was Amelia, who seemed to be drifting further away into her own world, a world where Charlotte felt like an outsider looking in. The sight of Amelia with Nathan, so engrossed in each other, was both a comfort and a pang of loneliness. Why hadn't Amelia told her about him? Was their relationship changing, leaving Charlotte on the fringes?

And Isla's secret, still unknown, added another layer of mystery and unease. What was she hiding? How did it all connect to the tangled web of events unfolding in Chesham Cove?

With each thought, Charlotte's heart grew heavier, the burden of unanswered questions and unresolved emotions weighing on her. The quaint charm of the town seemed distant now, overshadowed by the personal turmoil she was experiencing.

Finally reaching The Crown, she let out a weary sigh, the familiar façade of the inn offering little solace tonight. She made her way to her room, the silence of the inn a blessing. Falling into bed, Charlotte lay there, her mind racing with increasingly confused thoughts. The puzzle pieces of her life in Chesham Cove were scattered, and she felt no closer to putting them together. As exhaustion finally overtook her, Charlotte drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams a jumble of faces and whispers and empty, dark alleyways.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning, as usual, Charlotte glided through the dining room, a serene smile on her face as she refilled coffee cups and asked after her guests.

"More bacon?" she offered warmly to the elderly man reading a newspaper. He gave her a grateful nod, and she piled more crispy strips onto his plate.

She felt a deep sense of pride as she looked around at the happy patrons chatting over steaming mugs and hearty breakfasts. When she had first arrived in Chesham Cove, The Old Crown Inn had been dusty and neglected, with peeling wallpaper and cobwebs in every corner. But in the last few months, with relentless hard work, she had transformed the old manor. She focused on that accomplishment—and the mental list of things she had to do today—to distract her from reflecting on the previous day’s emotional low.

After clearing empty plates and bidding her guests a good morning, Charlotte moved through the cozy front sitting room straightening pillows and plumping cushions. She paused to add another log to the crackling fire, letting its warmth and light fill her spirit. As she wiped down side tables and arranged fresh flowers, her movements flowed gracefully like a dance, sweeping away the greys and blacks of her past.

Charlotte hummed softly to herself as she tidied up the sitting room. As she fluffed the pillows on the overstuffed sofa, her eyes drifted to the large bay window overlooking the gardens. Movement outside caught her attention. She paused her cleaning and stepped closer to the window, peering out curiously.

There was a figure moving furtively amongst the hedgerows, partially obscured by the fountain. Charlotte leaned forward, brows furrowed. Who was lurking out there? The form appeared masculine, though she couldn't quite make out any distinguishing features at this distance.

Feeling a flutter of apprehension in her stomach, Charlotte set aside her cleaning rag. She had to find out who this stranger was and what he was doing sneaking around the grounds. Smoothing her apron, she headed briskly to the front door and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The gravel path crunched softly under her shoes as she made her way around the side of the inn toward the gardens.

As she drew nearer, Charlotte slowed her pace, moving cautiously now. She didn't want to startle the intruder. Heart pounding, she peered around a large rhododendron bush, finally getting a clear view of the man. He had his back to her and seemed to be intently watching the inn. Charlotte took a deep breath. It was time to find out what he was up to.

Charlotte took a step forward, gravel crunching under her shoes. The man spun around, eyes wide.

"Simon?" Charlotte blurted in surprise.

Simon stood there looking caught off guard, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

"Oh, Charlotte, I uh..." He stammered, clearly flustered at being discovered.

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