Page 24 of The Healing of Christmas

But Bert hadn’t been lying. White Plains was awash with tourists, all of whom had, apparently, been told that the Jeez, Louise diner offered the very best food in the area.

“A friend of ours told us to come here,” the father from the Upper East Side said happily as he passed Charlotte a wad of cash. “And she was right. This was the pinnacle of the small-town experience. We have another group of friends coming out here in a few days. We’ll be sure to recommend.”

Charlotte’s knees had begun to ache from whipping around the dining room. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

For the next three and a half hours, nearly every table in the diner was taken. One of the kitchen staffers had to run to the grocery store to buy more bread and butter. Other kitchen staff members threatened to start smoking again; such was their stress. “Don’t do it, Johnny!” Charlotte cried as she headed toward a table laden with plates.

Although Louise hadn’t verbalized it, it seemed she’d accepted the fact that she needed Charlotte, at least for now. They’d begun to communicate better, with Louise asking Charlotte to take over a table while she dealt with a bill, or Charlotte cleaning up a soda spill as Louise cleaned a few tables for newcomers, and so on. Partially, Charlotte wanted to prove to her mother that she didn’t think she was “better” than the diner; partially, it was fun. Charlotte had spent the majority of her professional career hidden away at a desk, writing children’s books. There was something to be said for walking around, talking to people, and feeling a part of the world. She understood why her mother loved it so.

At five, miraculously, the diner cleared. Louise gasped and raced for the door, where she turned the closed sign to face outward.

“I can’t take it anymore,” she announced. “We aren’t doing dinner. They can all go somewhere else.”

In the kitchen, the staffers howled with relief and set to work on clean-up. Charlotte and Louise collapsed in stools along the counter and stared straight ahead, drinking ice water. Charlotte had decided to wait for her mother to speak first. Louise had seemingly decided to take a vow of silence. Perhaps they would sit like this all night, avoiding each other’s gaze. Then again, Charlotte needed to get back to Van and the baby soon.

After three of the kitchen staffers said, “good night,” Louise cleared her throat and said, “I guess thanks are in order.” Her tone was dismissal. It was probably the best Charlotte could hope for. She reminded herself of all seven of her children’s books, collected together on the middle shelf in her mother’s living room.

“It was fun,” Charlotte offered.

Louise’s face stiffened. “I’m sure it’s fun for you. It’s not your livelihood.”

Charlotte wanted to roll her eyes so badly, but miraculously, she didn’t. “Listen,” Charlotte said, “I have to get back to Van. She’s so anxious with the new baby, and she likes it when I’m around.”

Louise’s cheek twitched. “Then you’d better run home.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Charlotte pushed her luck. “We made Christmas cookies this afternoon, and we need help decorating them. I know how good you are at that.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m not. Trust me.” Charlotte chewed her lower lip, marveling at the stubbornness of her mother. Finally, she said, “I came here to apologize, you know.”

Louise’s eyes widened.

“I had no idea what you were talking about the other day,” Charlotte went on. “When you stormed into the apartment. But then, I met with the developer I’d discussed the Cherry Inn with. He showed me his designs. His ideas. I realized you’d seen them.”

Louise clenched her jaw.

“Obviously, I told him to go back where he came from,” Charlotte said with a laugh. “I thought he was going to restore the spirit of the old place, not completely destroy it.”

Charlotte wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t rich and famous and that she was more-or-less a very lonely and middle-class writer. But she didn’t want to push her luck, not now that her mother seemed to look at her differently, with more respect.

“Come back with me,” Charlotte said. “Let’s have a glass of wine and some cookies and talk about what to do with the inn. At first, I thought it was best to flip it and sell it, but there has to be a way to save it. I love that place too much to give it up.”

Louise shook her head sadly. “I don’t know how. But you’re right. We have to try.”

ChapterEleven

Charlie continued drawing the plans for the Cherry Inn. He threw himself into the details, staying up late at night, sharpening his pencil and putting more logs on the fire. Although he’d heard Charlotte tell him she never wanted to see him again, that she hated the designs, he wasn’t accustomed to being told “no.” He believed in what he’d drawn. And he genuinely believed Charlotte would come around, call him out of the blue, and ask him to come back to the Cherry Inn to start anew. “Everyone knows how talented you are,” Sarah had told him so often. “You just have to wait for them to realize what’s right in front of them.”

Three days after Charlie’s big fight with Charlotte at the Cherry Inn, there was a knock at the cabin. Charlie was drinking coffee by the fire, going over his recent drawings. His first thought was that this was Charlotte coming to tell him how wrong she’d been. Maybe he’d tell her he’d decided not to work with her anymore— that she’d missed her chance. Or maybe he’d tell her she was the most beautiful woman he’d met in years, and the thought of their argument kept him awake at night. His heart raced.

But when Charlie opened the door, he found himself face-to-face with his assistant, Timothy. Timothy was pale and thinner than he’d been when Charlie had left the city. Behind him in the parking lot was Timothy’s Prius.

“Timothy!” Charlie was so surprised to see him that he forgot to be angry. “Good afternoon!”

Timothy bristled. “Good afternoon?”

“Come in! Would you like coffee? A sandwich?”

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