“Look in the bag, Lilah.”
Her mother’s terse order had her drawing in breath and patience. “Fine.” She stuck her hand in, reached deep, and felt another soft yarn creation. Larger and thicker. Curious, she pulled it out.
“Another blanket?” It appeared to be exactly the same as the first one, only—slowly she unfurled it—much bigger. She held it up as best she could, letting the volume of it drape so the heart and the words faced her.
“You are loved.”
Her heart stumbled in her chest, then lay there beating painfully against her ribs. “For Shayla, when she gets older?”
Rose gave her head one impatient shake. “No. Not for the baby,” she scoffed and held Shayla to her chest. “For you.” She turned fully to Lilah now. “You are my baby, Lilah, and I love you. More than love you—I am very proud of you and very ashamed of myself for looking at you when you needed me most and seeing only my shame, my failing to honor the wishes of my parents. My hurt. Me, me, me. I am sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Lilah’s eyes burned. She lowered the blanket to her lap and turned to her mother. “Of course,” she managed and wrapped her arms around her mother and her daughter. “Of course I forgive you, du tla’a.”
Her mother hugged her, kissed her cheek, then drew back. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away and cut you off.”
“Mom, I know you persuaded Ray to offer me the cabin. I know you bought the crib. You taught the guys how to knit. You didn’t exactly cut me off.”
“Small things. Inconsequential.” She shook her head. “You had plans for your future, college in Anchorage—”
“I have different plans now.” She stroked Shayla’s hair. “I don’t want to go away anymore. I don’t need to, to get my degree. I can earn it online.”
“Going away to college meant more than just a degree. It meant new places, new people, new things. You wanted those.”
“I wanted to grow up,” she corrected. “I wanted to feel like an adult.” She stroked Shayla’s back, felt the steady expansions of her little lungs. “I got there a different way. I don’t need that experience. That’s for a person with fewer responsibilities.”
Rose nodded. “Nonetheless, we had a deal—two years working here, then two years at the university, then back here to be a partner in the inn. You honored your part of that deal. You gave me those two years. I would like to honor my end of our deal.” She smiled down at Shayla. “With modifications.” Her eyes shifted to Lilah. “Look in the bag. There is another gift.”
“Another?” She reached in and felt around the bottom until her fingertips encountered an envelope. “Oh, a card?” She withdrew the long, 8.5” x 11” white envelope embossed with the name and address of the local law firm in Captivity. Hoop’s practice, which Izzy would soon take over.
“Open it.”
Strangely nervous, she unsealed the envelope with unsteady hands and withdrew a pack of documents. The uppermost, a deed to the land and buildings comprising Captivity Inn, read Rose D. Iquat and Lilah R. Iquat as equal-interest owners.
“Mom…”
“If you still want that,” Rose interjected, sounding unaccountably nervous as well. “If you still want the inn for your own someday. It’s your birthright, but it should never be a shackle. Don’t decide now,” she went on when Lilah attempted to speak. “Just look and think.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Maybe you would rather stay a waitress at the Goose, huh? Maybe the benefits are too good to pass up?”
Rose’s raised brows and tight grin made her want to squirm like a…well…like a girl who’d just gotten busted for enjoying Ford’s benefits. Except she wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a grown woman, and the fact that her mother could tease her about her personal life suggested she accepted Lilah had one and was entitled to manage it as she saw fit. Progress. Major progress.
“I’ll read through everything, and I will think about it,” she promised and hugged her mother again. In the space of a few dizzying hours, her life had swung one hundred and eighty unpredictable degrees. She had forgiveness—from Shay, from her mother—and safe pathways to major changes. Some changes she wanted badly, but some… She thought of Ford and smiled. Some things she didn’t want to change at all.