Page 40 of The Seaside Homecoming
Claire darted a nervous glance at her before saying to Emily and her groom, “I am very happy for you both.”
Emily said, “Viola was actually the first to marry. Last summer.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “Was she indeed?”
“Yes. She wrote to let you know she and her husband hoped to visit you in Edinburgh, but they missed you, apparently.”
Claire glanced again at Sarah before replying, “I am sorry. I did not receive her letter.”
“That’s all right. She and the major will return soon, and you shall meet him then.”
Claire nodded. She looked ill at ease, which was understandable. And her lightly freckled skin seemed a little pale, without the glow of happiness she’d worn when last Sarah saw her, on the cusp of eloping. Otherwise Claire looked much the same. Still so pretty, with her delicate features and reddish-brown hair.
That rare thread of resentment pulled at her once more, and Sarah decided life was unfair. She felt she had aged more than Claire in the last two years, through the strain of her departure, their father’s illness and death, the loss of Finderlay,the move to Sidmouth, and working hard to establish the guest house. And all this not long after the death of her own betrothed.
Sarah stood there, feeling oddly cold. Distant. As if a thin layer of frost had enveloped her heart like an ice-glazed branch.
She became aware of the others watching her.
“Sarah,” Claire said tentatively. She took a step forward. When Sarah remained where she was, she drew no closer. “I am glad to see you. And glad for this chance to tell you how sorry I am for the way I left, for asking you not to say anything until I had gone. It was wrong of me to put you in that situation. And I hope, one day, you might forgive me.”
In Claire’s blue eyes, so like her own, she saw sincerity and regret, magnified by a sheen of tears. A cascade of memories flowed through Sarah’s mind, of all their private talks and long walks, sharing confidences and laughter and grief, Claire holding her tight when they’d learned of Peter’s death....
Sarah’s heart twisted, cracking her resentment and icy reserve.
She stepped forward to meet Claire, enclosing her in her arms. She whispered near her ear, “I forgive you now.”
Footsteps sounded behind them, and the two parted to look toward the door. The man who had greeted them reappeared on the threshold and drew up short at the sight of the teary-eyed embrace.
“Forgive the intrusion. I did not realize this was a sad occasion.”
Claire gave him a watery smile. “It is not. It is a happy one. Allow me to introduce my family. Well, some of them. My sister Sarah. My sister Emily. And her husband, Mr. Thomson.”
“James,” Mr. Thomson said, holding out his hand.
The man shook it. “William Hammond.”
Claire explained, “Mr. Hammond owns Broadbridge’s now and has taken me on as a partner in the business.”
Emily said, “We also offer rooms at our home near Fort Field. I hope ours can be a friendly competition.”
His eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “Indeed? Your sister did not mention it.”
Seeing Claire’s discomfort, Sarah added, “It is a relatively recent development. Needs must and all that.”
“Ah. I see.”
Meanwhile James continued to study the man, head tilted to one side, expression puzzled. “William Hammond...” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your name is familiar to me for some reason.”
Mr. Hammond shrugged. “A common enough name, I should think.”
“Yes, but I heard it not long ago in connection with Sidmouth.” His eyes narrowed in concentration. “You moved here recently, I believe.”
“That’s right.”
“And you moved here from...?”
“I have lived several places. From Aylesbury, originally.” He shifted, perhaps uncomfortable with the attention, and shifted the topic as well. “And you, Mr. Thomson. Resided in Sidmouth long?”
