Page 11 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
Ellie glanced back at the children—Ben now spinning the roundabout while Josh was screeching to get off, Jess folding her arms and still glowering, Ava standing in front of the swings, pouting as she watched Owen and Mairi sail higher and higher.
Looking at them all, Ellie wished just one thing could be easy, or at least easier. These kids were cousins; why couldn’t they get along, or even try to get along? Why couldn’t they all be tramping through the bushes, making dens and giggling excitedly, as she’d pictured in an admittedly hazy way before Sarah had swooped in with all her well-meaning advice and air of superior knowledge?
Or was Ellie just being super-sensitive, because of Gwen, because of the strangeness of this new world, because she felt so raw and homesick and if someone had asked her if she wanted to go home, she’d be halfway to Heathrow if she could?
Well. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Ben, slow down,” she called, and with a shrug, Ben gave the roundabout one last shove before walking away. “We should probably get back,” Ellie told Sarah, a note of apology in her voice. She had a feeling her children were at the end of their tether, or maybe she was. “Thank you so much for… everything.”
Sarah gave a complacent nod. “You will let me know if you need anything?” she asked as she rose from the bench and called to Owen and Mairi. They jumped off the swings, with Ava diving out of the way. “Any questions… I’m happy to help, Ellie. Really.” Sarah gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure this all seems incredibly strange to you. I can’t imagine relocating to Connecticut!” She let out a little laugh as she shook her head. “Really, it would be bewildering… as bewildering as it must be for you to move here. But, whatever you need, I’m here for you.” She smiled, seeming sincere, and Ellie was unexpectedly touched.
“Thank you, Sarah,” she replied. “I’m sure I’ll have tons of questions. I just have to figure out what they are.” She smiled humbly, feeling guilty for thinking uncharitably of her sister-in-law when she was so clearly willing to help.
Sarah seemed to have her entire life under control, making organic meals from scratch, volunteering on umpteen committees in the community and school, and holding down a part-time job as a chartered accountant besides. Next to her, Ellie felt like a ditzy mess. Even back in Connecticut, she’d struggled to keep on top of the laundry. Maybe she needed to take a few pointers from her sister-in-law, even if something in her resisted the notion.
To her surprise, when they reached the gate at Bluebell Inn, Sarah gave her a quick, tight hug. “I know this must be difficult,” she murmured as she released her. “Chin up.”
Chin up. If that was all it took…
“Thanks,” Ellie murmured, meaning it. Sarah had taken the time to show her and the children around, and that had been a kind thing to do, no matter how some of her comments might have chafed. “I appreciate… well, everything.” At least she was trying to.
With a parting smile, Ellie beckoned to her brood, and they all trooped back to the house.
From upstairs, Ellie heard the sound of a drill and winced. She’d thought Matthew was meant to be phoning the handymen today, not starting the work himself, but clearly the renovations had begun.
“Where’s Daddy?” Ava asked as Jess unplugged her phone from the charger in the kitchen, checking the screen with the sort of avidity that saddened Ellie. Her daughter’s life was still very much back in Connecticut, and most likely would be for some time. She certainly understood the feeling.
“He’s working upstairs, sweetheart,” she told Ava. “Have you heard from Chloe, Jess?” She’d kept her voice light, but Jess scowled at her and turned away.
“Yeah, course I have,” she muttered, before grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. Ellie knew she needed to check with Gwen about what food the kids could freely eat; otherwise, they’d be like a plague of locusts, descending on everything in the kitchen and gobbling it up in no time.
She supposed she should do her fair share of food shopping and cooking, as well, although she had a feeling Gwen wouldn’t want her taking over her kitchen. More minefields to navigate, she thought with a sigh, and then, after giving the children permission to plug into their various devices for a little while, she headed upstairs to check on her husband.
Matthew was in one of the four guest bedrooms on the house’s second floor—or first floor, Ellie reminded herself, in British terms. The room was an absolute shambles—wallpaper hanging from the walls in shreds, the carpet half-pulled up, and a sink half-falling off the wall while Matthew wrestled with a wrench.
Ellie glanced around, trying to hide her skepticism about the whole project, as she pinned a bright smile on her face. “How’s it going?”
“Good!” Matthew wiped his forehead with the wrist of one hand while he rested the wrench on top of a chest of drawers with the others. “I know it looks an absolute wreck,” he told her with a wry laugh. “I just wanted to have a go at something today, really. Get my hands dirty. Not much rhyme or reason yet, but there will be.”
“Right.” Now, Ellie knew, was not the time to remind her husband that his DIY skills were merely passable, or that they’d discussed hiring an architect or at least some capable workmen who knew what they were about. She folded her arms and then uncrossed them, afraid she looked aggressive. “So, what’s your thinking, then?”
“Well.” Matthew looked around the room. “I want to get these rooms down to their bare bones, I suppose. Then we can get an architect in to think about en suites and that sort of thing. They’re good-sized rooms, and if we can take out the bathroom in the hall, there should be space for every room to have its own en suite, at least with a sink and shower.”
“And a toilet, presumably.”
He let out another laugh. “Yes, and a toilet. That’s a must.”
He lapsed into silence and so did Ellie, because she wasn’t sure what to say. Do you really know what you’re doing? was definitely not helpful, but it was what she felt at the moment. Matthew could do the basics—wire a plug, plaster a wall—but anything more wasn’t, Ellie felt, strongly in his skill set. Not enough to be getting bedrooms down to their bare bones, at any rate. But what did she know? Besides, she wanted to be encouraging.
“How was your day?” Matthew asked, and something about the way he asked it—as if it was entirely separate from himself and his own hopes and plans—annoyed her.
“Pretty good,” she replied, trying to suppress that little sting of irritation. It was a perfectly innocent question, and it deserved a perfectly innocent reply. “Got the lowdown from Sarah on life in Llandrigg, but I’m not sure how much I can actually remember.”
“I’m sure she has loads of helpful information.”
“She is terrifyingly competent,” Ellie agreed dryly, which was the gist of what Matthew had said many times in the past about his only sibling, but now he gave her a slightly reproving look.
“Give her a chance, Ellie,” he stated quietly, like a rebuke.