“I’m…sorry, Mr. Clayton,” Elizabeth said in a voice that seemed too small for who she was. “Really. I didn’t mean for any of this. Regina was just trying to help.”

“And all it’s done is hurt.”

Elizabeth blinked, folding her arms over herself. Clearly, she bit her tongue. “I understand. And I will be gone before you come home this evening.”

He stared only briefly before nodding, but in the split second he had, he seemed to be second-guessing his decision. Before he could give himself the chance to, though—if that’s even what he’d been doing—he left the glass door swinging behind him, the bell ringing angrily in protest.

Elizabeth unfolded her arms, slumping, and her eyes glazed over as she watched Mr. Clayton approach a waiting Arne Randolph across the street. Regina wondered what Mr. Clayton thought Elizabeth had “stirred.” Chaos? Change? Or was it simply the hope inside the residents that Mr. Clayton could in fact be stood up to? Because that hope sure stirred inside Regina’s chest. It was liberating and fiery all at the same time. And if that’s what left Mr. Clayton uneasy, he had every right to be. Regina wouldn’t fear him anymore, and it wouldn’t be long before others would follow the same example.

Elizabeth would be missed, and Regina nearly cried at the simple thought of her leaving, but there was one thing for sure: her imprint would forever be left on Hemlock Veils. This town, and Regina alike, would never be the same.

Chapter 11

Elizabeth exited her motel room with a heaviness that left her lethargic. At her car, she popped the trunk and lifted her suitcase, letting it fall on top of her other belongings with a thud as heavy as she felt. It was already late in the afternoon. She would have left that morning, right after the incident at the diner, but for some reason, Regina had insisted she wait, perhaps to prolong the goodbyes. Besides, Regina had said, Mr. Clayton never came home before evening. But Elizabeth couldn’t wait any longer. The longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave.

Moreover—and though she would never admit it aloud—Mr. Clayton had gotten the best of her, fear and all. And the very last place she wanted to be was here at the moment his car drove back through town.

It’d been worth a shot, she thought to herself as she left her car in the parking lot and began walking down Red Cedar Loop toward the diner, where she’d say her final goodbyes. She’d known in the beginning, when the idea of staying seemed perfect, it was too good to be true. She had kept a realistic perspective that said she had nothing to lose, yet she had lost everything. Everything she never had to begin with.

Alas, the threatening wind had won.

She paused at the widest cedar on the street, its trunk dusted in the green moss that gave this forest its character. She touched it, moist and soft, and something rough lied beneath it. She looked closer, charmed by the markings. Once upon a time—from the looks of it, centuries ago—this tree had been the contract of lovers: a rough A followed by an even rougher heart and an H. A & H.

Reluctantly, she left the inscription alone, the way the moss wanted, and on her way to the diner, she allowed her eyes to sweep the forest one last time. Just as she was about to push herself through the glass door, she caught the reflection of the Maybach in the window, driving behind her like a cloud of shiny midnight blue and silver. Everything inside her froze. Behind its reflection was Regina inside the diner, staring just as wide-eyed as Elizabeth.

Regina came out, pulling her inside. “Maybe he didn’t see you,” she said.

But he had, because the car stopped at the curb not even a block down the road.

“He never comes back this soon,” Regina added.

Elizabeth sat on a stool, the scenery around her blurring into one large wash of color. Really, what could he do to run her out of town, other than verbally attack her? He couldn’t put her in jail for staying a few hours longer than he’d told her to. And she doubted his verbal assaults could get worse than they’d already been.

The door opened behind her, bells announcing her doom, and when she turned she relaxed, her vision becoming crisp again. Arne smiled from ear to ear. “Ms. Ashton,” he said.

She stood and he remained at the door. “I’m sorry, Arne. Please tell him that. I was just saying goodbye; I didn’t think he’d be back yet.”

He waved a hand impatiently. “Never mind that. I’m here to bring you a message.”

“A message?” She swallowed.

“They’re yours, Ms. Ashton.” His smile widened, if that was even possible.

“They?”

“The house, the bakery: they’re yours.”

Her heart literally skipped a beat, and Nicole and Regina gasped. She blinked, since it would surely clear reality. “I don’t understand.”

“Let’s just say Mr. Clayton had a change of heart. You are to meet him at Jean’s Bakery tomorrow morning at seven a.m. sharp, where a deal will be made. It’ll be your one and only shot, so make sure you’re there. He doesn’t like to wait.”

“Yes.” She nodded, tripping over words. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

He softened his voice. “I’m so glad to hear it, Elizabeth. Just remember what I said the first time we met. Don’t let anyone who’s opposed to your being here bring you down. I meant that about Mr. Clayton especially. I’d hate to see him break your spirits.”

“Arne,” she said before he turned. “Thank you.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“No, I mean, thank you. Do tell Mr. Clayton of my appreciation, but…you must have had something to do with this.”

He shrugged cryptically. “It wasn’t me who changed his mind. Nor was it your coffee he will be talking about for years to come.”

“Then what was it?”

“You, Elizabeth.” He paused, allowing her to absorb it. She couldn’t. “Don’t be mistaken; the coffee certainly helped. But believe it or not, Mr. Clayton understands a thing or two about second chances.”

After a wink, he left Elizabeth staring at that strand of dangling bells on the door’s handle, more excited than she’d been in her adult life.

***

During Elizabeth’s walk from Regina’s house to her motel room, a mysterious haze of clouds—nothing but a sheer gossamer curtain—veiled the moon, full and luminous. It made her feel less alone in the town she could now call her own. Regina had escaped the diner earlier than usual that night, leaving Nicole to close. Normally Elizabeth didn’t think Nicole would mind, but the fact that Regina left because of Elizabeth made that sour look appear on Nicole’s face.

Regina’s friendship was invaluable. If it wasn’t for her, Elizabeth would be driving some other highway right now, rather than walking the tree-lined roads in Hemlock Veils. Regina had invited her over for a late dinner, where she’d made fried chicken and taught Elizabeth a few tricks. They’d ended up lost in conversation, talking mostly of the town and who everyone was and what they did for a living, and who disliked whom: all things Elizabeth usually tried to keep her nose out of. Either way, her night with Regina had been so enjoyable she’d lost track of time, and now here it was, just a few minutes before midnight.

She walked northwest on Clayton Road, toward Red Cedar Loop. Regina’s two-story house was halfway down a side street called Whistler Lane, the last residential street before Henry Street, located west of the abandoned shops. At that moment, Elizabeth seemed to be the only living soul in Hemlock Veils. The streets were dormant, since everyone else found the nighttime unnerving here, unlike the way she found it calming. Even Regina had begged to drive her home, but here, in a town with everything so close, it felt like a waste to drive. It was just her and the moon and the light breeze against her ears as she walked, nothing more than the breath of a whisper.