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“Did you know?” she asked again.

He narrowed his eyes at her, obviously studying her face, noting the panicked worry that creased her forehead. “Did I know what? What is wrong with you?”

“Caroline Rosberg owned this building.” Cassie bore into him with her eyes, waiting for an answer. He couldn’t know. He would have told her. But it was the only thing that made sense.

“What?” Jonathan was completely confused now, Cassie could tell by his expression. He rounded the counter, grasped her by the elbow, and steered her into the office behind it. There was a one-way mirror so he could see the store from his desk. He kept one eye on it and then glanced back at Cassie. “Sit down and tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

Cassie stayed standing, but relayed the previous few minutes to him. “He said the owner of the building is deceased and the remaining family wants to sell. Who else could he be talking about? Who else around here has died recently? Emerson keeps referring to her mother’s stuff as the inn and ‘some property.’” She made air quotes to emphasize her point.

Jonathan rolled it all around in his head. “So…the Burgermeister Meisterburger is going to buy this building. That’s essentially what you’re saying, right?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“And Caroline owned the building? Patrick pays the rent, and I know it goes to that agency. I guess I never really thought about it. I had no reason to.”

Cassie dropped heavily into a chair. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Who? Caroline?”

“Emerson! Jesus, Jonathan. Stay with me here.”

Jonathan held his hands up, palms forward. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I warned you about her.” He put his hands on his hips and stared out the one-way glass for a long moment. “Cross builds condos. I’m probably going to lose my store,” he said, more to himself than Cassie.

“Me, too. I mean, we’ve got leases, right? So he can’t just kick us out. But once they’re up…” She shook her head. “I can’t believe neither one of them told me. I feel sick.” She rubbed a hand across her stomach as they sat in silence. Then Cassie stood abruptly, startling Jonathan, and muttered, “You know what? This is bullshit.” She stormed out of the office.

The air was biting. It was the first day of the season that Cassie actually noticed the cold, and she cursed at the frosty air as she stormed down the street with no coat on. Head down, eyebrows furrowed, she plowed down the sidewalk like a steamroller, not really noticing how people jumped out of her path, made way for her. She heard a couple of mumbled greetings, but she did not respond. She didn’t want to snap at innocent bystanders, so she kept her eyes glued to the sidewalk ahead and moved along with great purpose.

A casual walk from The Sports Outfitter to the Lakeshore Inn took about ten minutes, but Cassie made it in half that time. She bypassed the main building and stomped down the pathway to the little cottage that used to be Caroline’s sanctuary. She banged at the side door loudly, not caring who heard her.

With no immediate answer, she raised her fist to bang again, but the door was pulled open before she had the chance.

Emerson seemed surprised to see her. That much was obvious by the startled expression on her face. Cassie wished she didn’t look so good in the worn jeans that clung to her body in all the right places, and the navy blue Reebok hoodie she’d purchased in Cassie’s store just days before. To avoid the view, Cassie pushed past Emerson and into the cottage just as Emerson said, “Hey.”

Boxes were everywhere. Some were packed and taped up neatly, labeled with black marker. Others stood open, half-filled with things that used to belong to Caroline. Instantly, Cassie was hit with a blast of sadness and grief that almost buckled her knees. Seeing Caroline’s life boxed up made Cassie’s heart ache. Then she remembered why she was here, and she spun on Emerson.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Blonde eyebrows made a V above Emerson’s nose. “Tell you what?” She stood tall, still, legs shoulder-width apart, her hands tucked into her back pockets. She looked completely at ease, which made Cassie angrier.

“That you owned my building? That you were going to sell it out from underneath me?”

Emerson’s face ran the gamut of emotions then, from shame to apology to anger to…blank. Cassie watched the transformation with rapt attention and could pinpoint the exact second when Emerson turned off her feelings. “I didn’t know until this morning.” She abruptly crossed the room—not looking at Cassie—and began packing a box.

“You didn’t know until this morning,” Cassie echoed dubiously.

“I didn’t. 217 Main Street was just an address.”

“Just an address.”

Emerson threw down the book she’d been ready to pack. “What, you’re a parrot now? What do you want from me, Cassie?”

Cassie blinked at her in disbelief. “What do I want from you? Are you seriously asking me that question? I just watched Arnold fucking Cross wander through my store and take notes so he can better make the building into condos or whatever he’s going to make it into that doesn’t include my business. Or my apartment,
my home
. And all you can do is act all irritated that I’m upset about it?”

“Do you want an apology? Is that it? Fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Okay?”

Cassie flinched at Emerson’s coldness, then watched in incredulity as Emerson went back to packing. Cassie opened her eyes wide and shook her head. “That’s it? Really?”

Emerson turned to her and held her arms out to the sides, silently asking,
what more do you want?
Something shot across her face then, a fleeting glimpse of emotion, but it came and went so fast, Cassie wondered if she’d actually seen it. She waited a beat, but it didn’t happen again, and Cassie’s heart began to ache.

“I don’t mean a thing to you, do I? The last three weeks? All the talks? The trek up Jones Mountain?” Cassie’s voice dropped. “That kiss? None of it meant a thing to you, did it?”

Emerson opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her ice-blue eyes stared past Cassie, then down to the floor. Finally, she dropped her arms to her sides and looked at Cassie. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Disappointment washed over Cassie in one big wave, and she looked at Emerson with pleading eyes. “I want you to say you’re sorry and mean it. I want you to say maybe we can talk about it, work something out. I want you to say you give a shit.”

Emerson just stared at her.

“This town invested so much in you, Emerson. I know it was a long time ago, and you don’t like to remember that, but it’s true. Maybe it’s time you return the favor, invest in the town now. Why not stay?”

Emerson shook her head, her mouth set in a tight line, and looked down at her feet.

Cassie stared for a long moment, willing it all to be different, willing Emerson to lift her head, to look at Cassie with those eyes, to show Cassie the warmth she’d seen yesterday with Mr. Kendall, the heart she knew was in there. She saw none of it now. Not a trace. Emerson’s face was carefully blank and it infuriated Cassie almost as much as it broke her heart. To protect herself from the sadness, she let the anger surge up again, to take over.

“People warned me about you, you know, told me to stay away.” Emerson’s head snapped up at that, and Cassie pushed on, thrilled to get a reaction of any kind. “They did. They told me you were a runner, that it’s what you do. You take the easy way out. When things get hard, Emerson runs away. They told me not to get too close, that I’d only get hurt. But I didn’t listen. Oh, no, I couldn’t be bothered because I thought there was something more to you. I was sure of it. But you know what? They were right. You don’t give a shit about anybody but yourself, do you?”

“Do
not
make this my fault,” Emerson snapped, her eyes flashing as she stabbed a finger in Cassie’s direction. “What kind of businesswoman doesn’t know who her landlord is? My mother owned the building; she never told you. That isn’t my fault. I told you the moment I arrived that I wasn’t staying. How does that make me a runner? Maybe this isn’t about me. Maybe this is about you. Maybe you just like to go after things you can’t have. Like me. Like Vanessa.”

Cassie literally took a step back as Emerson’s words sliced through her, unable to believe what she’d heard. She swallowed as her eyes welled up, crushed by the look of indifference on Emerson’s face, the face she’d grown so fond of, and the hurt made her take a shot at the jugular. “God, you’re so fucking cold,” she said quietly. “Your mother was right about you.”

She stayed only long enough to see the pain rip across Emerson’s face, the tears pool in her eyes, before turning away, not wanting to see any more of the damage she’d caused. She slammed the door behind her and ran bodily into Mary, who was standing on the pathway, looking stricken. Cassie mumbled an apology, then quickly moved around the innkeeper and hurried up the walk. She’d done what she needed to do. She’d said everything she wanted to say. She’d stood up for herself.

So why, then, did she feel so horrible?

Emerson was exhausted, but
could not sleep. She’d spent the rest of Sunday shifting from being angry at Cassie for the things she’d said, to being angry with herself for being the way she was, to being angry in general for knowing that Cassie had a point, to being angry that there was so much crap in her mother’s house to pack. Though she preferred the anger to the pain, she wasn’t clear on why she still felt it. In typical situations, she just felt numb. After years of pain pills, she’d become used to feeling nothing. This ire inside burned, made her uncomfortable and restless. She didn’t like it, yet couldn’t seem to shake it.

Your mother was right about you
.

She closed her eyes, opened them again, stared at the ceiling.

Packing had been a giant pain in the ass. But she’d done it. The kitchen was packed up. The living room. The rest of Caroline’s clothing–all packed. She’d taken a lot to the rehab hospital, but there were a few things Emerson was shipping to her place in L.A. A couple roomy sweatshirts, her slippers, and an oversized flannel shirt that had originally belonged to Emerson’s grandfather. Emerson could still picture her mother throwing it on when she was chilly, its blue-and-black-plaid flannel threadbare in spots, the sleeves needing to be rolled up six or seven times before she could see her hands.

In bed now, Emerson was warm and comfortable, albeit wide awake, just as she had been for the past three-and-a-half hours. A glance at the clock told her it was barely six. The sky was still dark. The birds hadn’t even awakened, the lake and trees silent outside the window. She got out of the bed, ran quickly to the window, and opened the curtains wide, then hurried back on her toes to avoid the cold floor, and dove under the covers. She wasn’t ready to get out of bed yet, but wanted to watch the sun come up, if it had any plans to do so. Despite the early hour, it was brighter out than usual, thanks to the new snowfall that had blanketed the town overnight. Emerson propped herself into a not-quite-sitting position and just gazed out the window into the white stillness and beauty of Lake Henry beyond.

I wish you could see the snow, Mom. You’d love it.

Shifting positions in the bed, she winced as aching muscles made themselves known. Her knee wasn’t throbbing, but it was definitely sore. She’d worked her ass off yesterday, staying busy being the only way she could keep her brain from alighting on all the things Cassie had said. Emerson was shocked by how angry the woman was. When Cassie left, Emerson had been seconds from bursting into tears, something she rarely did. Thank goodness Mary had then knocked on the door and entered, asked if everything was all right. Emerson had no choice but to tell her what was going on, so she’d pulled herself together and had done so. She told Mary all of it, even about the sale of the inn. Mary hadn’t seemed surprised. Even she hadn’t known which building Caroline had owned.

A quick phone call to Brad Klein had answered all of Emerson’s questions. Apparently, the building had belonged to her grandfather, who’d been using the same rental agency for ages. Caroline had seen no reason to change things, and therefore, just left it all as it was, let it be run the same way it always had been when her father had been alive. The money went into an account from where any necessary maintenance was also paid for, and her accountant took care of it all. Caroline took a set amount from it each month, popped her monthly statements into a folder, and never looked any further into it. She had no need to.

How ridiculous that such a simple and innocent setup could cause so many problems later on.

Caroline must have lain in bed and gazed out the window just as Emerson was doing now, because she’d mounted a bird feeder just outside. Mr. Gruffton must have kept it filled, as Emerson had no idea where the birdseed was, but it was nearly half full now. Two chickadees and a handful of sparrows flitted around, taking turns at the seed, chittering in their little bird voices. Caroline loved birds, Emerson remembered now. A very vague memory of looking through a bird book when she was little struck Emerson then, flipping pages, scanning photographs, trying to find the bird with the right color and body shape. A lump appeared in her throat, and she had to clear it several times before it abated.

The emotion had been so close to the surface recently, and it was freaking Emerson out a little bit. She’d been focusing on the anger simply to keep the emotion at bay, but now felt like she might be losing the battle.

She was meeting with Cross this morning at nine. Concentrating on that helped her push the sensation of tears and sadness back into the dark recesses of her brain. She’d looked over the paperwork a dozen times now, and it all seemed to be in order. Klein had said the offer was more than fair, and she trusted him. He’d been her mother’s attorney for many years. Caroline wouldn’t have stayed with him if she didn’t trust him to keep her best interests at heart.

Emerson was surprised at the early hour of the meeting, given Cross’s long drive. He was clearly anxious to close the deal. And she was confident this was the right thing to do.