Page 7 of Hush (The Seaside Saga #25)

ELSA’S NEXT STOP? CELIA’S.

After getting back from Cliff’s pastry delivery, Elsa crosses the lawn to the shingled guest cottage.

A small box of babyproofing devices is in her arms. Atop that box is a bag of extra banana beignets—freshly made.

When a cool breeze skitters dried leaves at her sneakered feet, she hurries up the porch steps.

Before knocking, though, she sets down her things.

A straw-stuffed scarecrow tied to a porch post needs some attention.

It’s leaning to the side, so Elsa props it up straight.

Gives its straw hair a little zhuzh , too.

This is precisely what she and Celia have to do with the inn.

Decorate. Straighten. Adjust. Get busy with their business.

Busy with Elsa’s Inn -terim Spring Opening List.

With giving Celia and Aria a reason to stay.

A reason for Elsa’s heart not to break again, too.

So… okay. Maybe Elsa will do a little exploring, after all. Will listen for any evidence of a clandestine relationship be tween Celia and a certain likable lobsterman who taught her to whistle just yesterday.

First up, though? Babyproofing. So Elsa straightens the open sweater over her mockneck top and black joggers, fusses with the rolled bandana on her head, then knocks at Celia’s door.

***

For someone keeping quite a secret, Celia’s got it all together.

That much Elsa can tell as she’s whisked to the back porch.

There, Celia shows her an array of staging items lined up.

She explains how she just finished arranging them by room; by purpose; by color; by home versus class-lesson item. The order couldn’t be more meticulous.

Neither could the printed babyproofing list Celia holds. That is also ordered by room and safety level.

“Aria’s napping, so it’s a good time to start,” Celia quietly says when they step into the kitchen. “I’ve laid out the safety gadgets,” she adds, motioning to the kitchen table.

“Indeed you have,” Elsa remarks. There, on the table, is every device needed for a baby-safe home. Safety latches and locks; doorknob covers; a non-slip bathroom mat. “I brought electrical cord wraps,” Elsa says around her parcels. “And stove-knob covers, too.”

“Okay, good! We’ll begin in the living room. But first… I’ve also spotted a pretty bag on top of your box?”

Setting down her things, Elsa first laughs. Then she pours the cinnamon-and-sugar-coated ball pastries into a shallow bowl.

Celia, in her flannel shirt, jeans and moccasin slippers, hovers close behind her. Peers over her shoulder, too. “What are those?” she asks.

“Banana beignets. I made them this morning for Cliff’s coffee cart. Made extra for us, too.” Elsa turns to her with the bowl. When she does, Celia right away cups a beignet beneath her hand and pops the whole thing in her mouth.

“Mmm-mmm,” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering closed.

But not for long. In minutes, they move into the living room— with the bowl of beignets. As they begin babyproofing, Celia is sure to check off each item.

And Elsa mentally checks off her own items. Because she can’t help thinking of what Concetta said in her email. Celia needs a reason to stick around Stony Point. So Elsa begins to ensure that. While installing outlet covers, she tells Celia this can be part business meeting today, too.

“Business meeting?” Celia asks. She’s pressing safety plugs into an outlet across the room.

“Yes.” Elsa works near the sofa. “As we plug the outlets, we can go over our plans for the inn.”

Crouching now, Celia glances at her. “Where’s this coming from? I thought we were opening the inn in the spring.”

“And it’s already October. If we’re having a spring opening, we need to whip the inn back into shape.

Which means… rehearse our routines so all runs smoothly.

You know, meals. Cleaning. Décor changes.

Unofficial events. I already did some paperwork for the rowboat-ride approval,” Elsa says, patting her now-safety-plugged outlet.

“But I’ve only started the fall decorating. Maybe you can help me finish that?”

“Of course. ”

Check , Elsa thinks, ticking off her mental Lock Celia Down List.

They keep babyproofing. And keep planning.

Celia opens a package of furniture corner guards. “Maybe you can bring back your Sunday dinners for practice,” she suggests.

“Absolutely. I’ve really missed those. And did I tell you about the Christmas Cottage Tour I’m proposing?”

“Oh, now I’m intrigued ! That sounds magical.”

“And it will be.” Elsa gives some preliminary details while plugging another outlet.

“Elsa, you know I’m on board for any inn prep,” Celia says while pressing a corner guard onto an end table topped with a mini lobster trap. “But could we possibly pencil in another time to go over things?”

“Yes, I suppose…” Elsa says while safety-plugging the room’s last electrical outlet. “I know your staging class starts tomorrow. So why don’t you and Aria swing by tonight for an early dinner? We’ll talk business then, and go to Cliff’s recital together afterward.”

“Perfect. Taylor’s babysitting for me later.

I’ll actually have her come early so we can talk all business at dinner.

” While pressing another corner guard onto an end table, Celia looks at Elsa across the room.

“Because right now? There’s something really personal I want to tell you .

Actually, I’ve been thinking about it all morning. ”

The low tone of Celia’s voice has Elsa’s heart drop. Because—here it comes. She can just feel it. Celia’s going to tell her about Shane. Right now. That they’re in a relationship. And serious. And might have a future together .

So Elsa braces for her biggest fear now. That with Celia’s confession, and her new life with Shane Bradford, comes the end of their Ocean Star Inn partnership.

***

Okay, there are lies. And then, there are lies .

But Celia wonders if merely circling around the truth even qualifies as a lie. There’s one way to find out. Just let the circling commence.

“Something’s happened, Elsa. And I really wanted you to know about it,” she admits while hurrying into the kitchen for more soft bumpers. “My mother was here,” she says upon returning to the living room.

Elsa stops with her own furniture-bumper fussing and sits on the sofa. “What?”

Celia nods. “Heather was here.” Truth, all truth. Not even circling. Her words are pure. “This week.”

“At Stony Point?” Elsa asks.

“Yes.”

“Wait… You talked to her?”

“Not exactly.”

“But… How do you know this then, Celia?”

“Well, by a few things. I think she must’ve arrived when I was at my father’s,” Celia begins. “To get my staging items.” True, that’s true. She’d left for her father’s that very day.

“On Sunday?”

“Yes.” Celia gives a small smile now. “And the funny thing is? When I got back from Addison yesterday?”

“Tuesday.”

Celia nods. “In the afternoon, I took Aria for a walk down the beach roads.” Oh, she’s good.

Look how much truth she’s revealing. Maybe she can get through this with no lies at all.

“It was such a nice fall day, Elsa.” Truth .

“I was pushing the baby in her stroller. And wearing this gorgeous denim jacket Maris made special for me.” All true.

“With sequined dove wings on it. I’ll show it to you later. ”

“Okay, go on. So what happened on your walk?”

“Huh.” Celia lifts the long foam bumper for the hearth edge now. “Well, it was sunny out. The bright sun was really glaring. And as I walked the baby, I swore I saw my mother drive by me—”

“What? Where?” Elsa interrupts.

“Right by the marsh. A car approached, then passed me.” While explaining, Celia crosses the room to the fireplace.

“The woman driving had the same blonde hair as my mother. Looked to be the same age, too, mid-fifties. But I doubted that it could really be Heather Gray. I mean, the woman lives three thousand miles away. So I convinced myself that in the bright sunlight, my eyes were seriously playing tricks on me. That Heather had been on my mind, so this older, blonde woman only looked like her,” Celia says over her shoulder.

“But when I turned to be sure my eyes weren’t tricking me?

Her car’s brake lights came on, Elsa. I stood there and watched her car slow.

And I knew my eyes saw the truth.” Standing at the hearth, Celia talks softer now.

“It was her, Elsa. It was my mother. She must’ve realized it was me she’d unexpectedly just driven past. Like she recognized me, maybe? Then saw the dove wings on my jacket?”

“So she stopped!”

“She did. And I stood there in the road with Aria,” Celia explains while kneeling at the hearth now and laying out the bumper. “Half expected that car door to fly open, too. Expected my mother to get out.” Celia pauses and looks over her shoulder again. “To say my name.”

“And?”

Celia shakes her head. “She didn’t. Eventually, the brake lights went off and the car drove away.”

“Oh, Celia. Maybe it wasn’t her, then? How could you know for certain?”

“By the note she left me,” Celia answers.

More truth. The note was as real as can be.

But here it comes, the lie. The lie . There’s just no way to get through this without at least one, damn it.

Celia walks to the sofa now and sits there, holding that loose hearth bumper in her hand.

“The envelope was in my mailbox,” she says— instead of saying the envelope was hand-delivered to Shane.

“My God. This is unbelievable.” Elsa turns to face her on the sofa.

Her honey-streaked brown hair is tied back beneath a rolled bandana; two sets of diamond studs shine on her newly pierced ears; her eyes are worried as she leans close.

“What did the note say?” she quietly asks, gently squeezing Celia’s hand.

Sunshine streams in the living room window behind Elsa. It drops golden light on the hardwood floor. Spills light in this perfect fairy-tale cottage, in Celia’s far-from-fairy-tale life. “I’ll never know.”

“What? Why not?”

Oh, the truth holds supreme power—no matter what angle it comes from. No lie can ever overpower it. Celia feels that with her next words. Each one of them, true. “I burned the unopened letter in the fireplace. ”

So potently true.

Celia still feels the magnitude of that.

Feels the magnitude of her hand reaching closer to the licking flames.

The magnitude of her fingers nearing that warmth.

The magnitude of hesitating before her fingers released the sealed envelope.

Before those flames curled up the letter and burnt it to embers.

So the truth is there. Physically. It’s right in the room with them now. With her and Elsa. There are no more lies. Celia only leaves out that it was Shane’s fireplace that set the letter ablaze.

An omission of truth is not necessarily a lie.

Nor is the unsettled feeling in her heart necessarily regret.

Celia tells herself that, anyway.