Page 3 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

“Three years last May,” he confirmed. “But it was a short visit… not even a week. Ava was just a baby.”

“And Josh was five, Ben eight, Jess ten,” Ellie recalled with a not-so-mock shudder. Ellie had been so tired that trip. None of the children had done well with jet lag, and Ava had been teething the whole time. Just as before, the whole trip had felt like an exhausting blur.

“Well, they’re practically all grown up now,” Matthew replied with a teasing smile, seeming practically buoyant now that they were finally here, at his family home. After months of tension and uncertainty surrounding his unexpected redundancy, mounting bills and increasing worry, Ellie was glad to see him looking more cheerful, even if she still couldn’t help but feel anxious. Her one pervading memory from that trip three years ago, besides the complete lack of sleep, had been her mother-in-law’s decided chilliness toward her.

With her curly, gray hair, wide smile, and warm Welsh accent, Gwen Davies should have been the kind of easy-going, relaxed mother-in-law anyone could get along with, especially since Ellie prided herself on being able to get on with just about anyone. Yet somehow, when it came to Gwen, it had never worked out that way.

Every time they’d interacted, it had been in fits and starts, jolts and shudders. Ellie made a suggestion, and Gwen’s mouth pursed up like a prune; her mother-in-law made a comment that made Ellie wince and bite her tongue. Even when they were simply chatting about the weather, the conversation seemed to turn tense. Ellie recalled a time when she’d remarked on the rain and Gwen had replied, rather acerbically, that it had actually been sunny all week.

She was left with the feeling she could never get it right; her mother-in-law had long ago decided she was too outspoken, too loud, too American, perhaps. And she, Ellie could acknowledge fairly, had decided likewise about her mother-in-law. She was too reserved, too disapproving, too… Welsh, she supposed, although she didn’t really know what a Welsh person was like, despite the fact she was married to one.

Yet now they were going to be living in Gwen’s house for the foreseeable future.

Ellie had, some months ago, suggested renting in the village, at least while they settled in, but Matthew had completely dismissed such a suggestion.

“Why on earth would we do that? It would cost us a fortune and Mum has the space. Besides, she’s looking forward to being with the children.”

With the children, Ellie had thought, not with her. Not that she’d ever say as much to Matthew. He was under the impression, as she imagined many husbands were, that she got along just fine with his mother—and really, she did. They’d never fought, or even argued; Gwen was always friendly in her own way, and interested in the children. When it came to the mother-in-law stakes, Ellie might not have won the lottery, but she hadn’t complete lost out, either. But that didn’t mean she was relishing the prospect of actually living in her mother-in-law’s house, sharing her kitchen, trying to follow her rules.

“Come on, Ellie!” Matthew called, smiling back at her, as he waited for her by the front door, surrounded by a broken trellis weighed down with large, late-blooming roses, releasing their heady scent and browning at their edges.

The children had all gone inside, save Jess, who was lingering behind; Ellie turned to give her an encouraging smile.

“Coming, Jess?” she asked, and her daughter nodded morosely before slipping past her into the house.

With Matthew next to her, Ellie paused on the threshold, taking a deep breath, willing herself to embrace not just this moment, but this new life. Then, squaring her shoulders, a smile firmly planted on her face, she headed inside with her husband.

CHAPTER 2

GWEN

Gwen rose from her seat at the kitchen table as she heard the crunch of tires on gravel from outside. They were here. After four hours in the car, twelve hours of transatlantic travel, years of her waiting for her son and his family to arrive… they were finally here.

She took a steadying breath, pressing one hand to her chest where her heart had started to beat with hard, painful thuds. She felt strangely nervous, considering she was seeing her own child. But then, of course, she hadn’t seen Matthew like this, with him about to catapult into her life, take over her house, transform the business she and her husband, David, had built with so much love, thought and care… And, of course, there was Ellie and the children to think about, too.

Gwen heard the door creak cautiously open, and then light footsteps. She really ought to move toward the front door, but for some strange reason, she felt as if her feet were stuck in concrete.

It’s Matthew, she thought, annoyed with herself for being so silly, and yet somehow, she still couldn’t move.

“Granny…” A child’s piping voice floated into the kitchen. “Granny?”

Finally, Gwen managed to walk toward the door, and as she rounded the corner into the entrance hall, she nearly crashed into her smallest grandchild, blinking in surprise at the sight of her.

“Goodness!” Gwen exclaimed, one hand still pressed to her chest. “Can this really be Ava? You’ve shot up since I last saw you.”

She’d last seen them in Connecticut, for American Thanksgiving, nine months ago. Ellie had made all sorts of dishes Gwen had never heard of—green beans absolutely swimming in a rich cream sauce, and sweet potatoes with brown sugar and marshmallow topping, the sugariest dish she’d ever tasted. Who had ever heard of such a thing?

“I’m four now,” Ava told her proudly. Sporting two curly pigtails and a lovably gap-toothed grin, she barreled right into Gwen’s middle, making her let out a startled oof even as she laughed and put her arms around her in a hug.

“Yes, I know you’re four. Do you remember we had a video call on your birthday?”

But Ava was already off, racing toward the kitchen. “Daddy said there was a dog…”

“Yes, his name is Toby.” Gwen pressed one hand to her middle as she followed Ava back into the kitchen. The others hadn’t come in yet, and she wondered nervously what was keeping them. “He’s in the garden now, lying in the sunshine. He’s quite old, I’m afraid. He doesn’t like to play much anymore.” She wasn’t sure if she said this as a warning or an apology; she didn’t want to disappoint Ava, but neither did she want her granddaughter harassing poor old Toby, who deserved his quiet time, dozing in the sun.

There were more people coming into the house now, and she turned again, taking in the crew of gangly grandchildren who were crowding in the hallway and seemed very… big.

Gwen had lived alone, save for her guests who came and went, for nearly twenty years, since David had died of a heart attack when he’d been only fifty-four; Matthew had just finished university, about to head to America, and his sister Sarah, two years older, had been working in Cardiff at the time. The bed and breakfast that had been her and David’s shared idea and joy had only been running for three years. It had been a terrible shock, to be suddenly plunged into loneliness, along with grief, to have to soldier on alone when she’d anticipated decades together still. All these years later, she’d told herself she was looking forward to sharing her space with her family again—of course she was—but right now she was conscious of both their size and presence, the strangeness of them, their silence. No one had said a single word.