Chapter 7

7

R eagan did a quick sweep through the first floor of the house, not finding Aunt Jean in any of the common rooms. She headed toward her aunt’s bedroom, located at the rear of the house, hoping she was home from her dinner with friends.

As she raised a hand to knock on Aunt Jean’s bedroom door, it opened, startling both women.

“For land’s sake!” her aunt exclaimed. Then her features softened. “Oh, Reagan. You’re here.”

She found herself enfolded in a warm embrace, one which comforted her. She drew strength from it, as well. Aunt Jean had always had a calming effect on her.

Pulling away, her aunt studied her. “You’re prettier than ever, Reagan. And you’re early!”

“I hope you don’t mind the surprise. I finished up what needed to be done in New York and was able to catch an earlier flight.”

Aunt Jean pulled Reagan toward her again for another, long hug. “I’m delighted you made it. I was just going to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like one?”

“That— and a long talk,” she said, feeling her troubles slide from her shoulders now that she was in the presence of no-nonsense, feisty Jean Bradley.

Reagan followed her aunt to the kitchen, heading to the tea caddy to select a flavor. The tea caddy had fascinated her when she was younger. She used to read through all the different packets, marveling at the variety of flavors. Her aunt didn’t tolerate caffeine, and so most of the caddy held various herbal flavors, along with a few decaffeinated Earl Grey and green teas.

Choosing a ginger turmeric, she asked, “What would you like? Chamomile to help you sleep tonight?”

“Yes, dear. There’s a new chamomile with honey vanilla that I’m partial to. I’ll take that.”

She located the packet and pulled it out as her aunt filled two large mugs with water and placed them in the microwave.

“Have a seat,” Aunt Jean told her.

She wondered if this would be a good time for them to talk and asked, “Who are your guests this week?”

“Weekdays start slowing this time of year. You know that. Weekends are still busy as always, though. Right now, only two guests are with me. I have Sid Allen upstairs in the last room at the end of the hall. Poor fellow is separated from his wife. Works nights. Most weekends, too. I hope he can sort things out. He keeps to himself pretty much. See him at breakfast when he gets off his shift. Sleeps all day. Eats his dinner at six and then heads out again.”

Aunt Jean opened the cookie jar. “Want anything sweet to nibble on?”

“No. I’m full from dinner.”

Her aunt removed two cookies and placed them on a paper napkin, setting it on the table and taking a seat. “Did you eat on your way to Lost Creek?”

“No. Tucker Young was here when I arrived. He told me you were in town at your book club and then having dinner with friends.”

“Dang it, Reagan. You should’ve called me,” her aunt chided. “I would’ve rushed home right away.”

She laughed. “That’s exactly what I didn’t want. There was no reason for you to come home and miss time with your friends, especially since I’m going to be here a while.”

Aunt Jean beamed. “I’m so glad to hear that, honey. What did you think of Tucker?”

“I like him,” she responded. “He was kind enough to invite me to dinner with a group of friends. It’s a weekly gathering.”

“Oh, I know all about that. It’s held at Braden and Harper Clark’s house. She used to be Harper Hart.”

Reagan grinned. “Of course, you do. You know everything that goes on in Lost Creek,” she teased.

“You bet I do. It’s a lovely group of young people. They’re all around your age.”

“They were very welcoming to me. I fit right in. It was as if I’d known them for years.”

Her aunt nodded knowingly. “You couldn’t do better.”

The microwave beeped, and she said, “I’ll get it.”

Retrieving the mugs, she brought them to the table. Both women tore open their tea packets and dipped their tea bags into the scalding water several times, then let it steep.

“Emerson Blackwood is picking me up tomorrow. She’s going to show me the event center and the kitchen she bakes in at Lost Creek Winery. Harper wants me to stop in and see her office. Braden is going to give Tucker and me a tour of the grapevines and tell us about the process of making wine. Then Ivy is going to do a private wine tasting for us.”

“My, it seems as if you’ve got a full day planned.”

Enthusiastically, she added, “Dax wants me to stop by Java Junction. Finley Scott made a coffee date with me, and Ivy is also going to join us for that.” Hesitating, she said, “I’ve never felt so welcomed. I’ve never really had friends, Aunt Jean. You know that.”

Her aunt placed a hand over Reagan’s. “I do, my little love. But I think your life is going to take a turn here in Lost Creek.”

They sipped their tea in amiable silence for a few minutes before her aunt asked, “Do you know how long you’ll be here? I’m not trying to run you off, now. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I don’t have any plans,” she admitted. “For the first time in my life, I’m not working toward a goal.” She swallowed. “Or working to survive.”

Tears filled her eyes, and her aunt squeezed Reagan’s hand. “I know how rough the past two years have been for you. Losing Arch was just horrible.”

“To be honest, I numbed myself to everything. I spent ninety or more hours at work each week. Other than the people at my office or the delivery guys who brought me takeout, I didn’t talk to anyone else. I buried my head in the sand and hoped work would heal all the hurt I felt inside.”

“Did it?” Aunt Jean asked gently.

“It finally hit me that I wasn’t living. I was existing. I realized I needed to move on. From my job. From New York. From the emptiness inside.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to ever forget Arch, but I’m hoping I can put myself back together and heal.”

“You know you can stay as long as you wish, my darling.”

Reagan laughed. “You should be careful about extending invitations like that. You might not be able to get rid of me.”

“I’d love that,” her aunt said, her eyes sparkling. “You told me you quit your job. Will you eventually go back to New York to work?”

“I’ve cut all ties with New York,” she revealed. “The apartment is gone. I burned all professional bridges when I left, so I doubt my old boss would give me any kind of decent recommendation.” She shook her head. “I’m thirty. I’m starting fresh. I don’t even know if I still want to work in finance.”

Her aunt studied her a long moment. “Then you’ve come to the right place. I arrived in Lost Creek years ago, at a crossroads in my own life. I’d given up everything to raise your father after our parents died. My dreams of college, in particular. I wanted to be a teacher, you know.”

That surprised Reagan. “No, I didn’t know that. You would’ve have made for a great teacher, Aunt Jean.”

“Maybe. Once your dad was all set, I decided to go somewhere new. Reinvent myself. I was about to be forty and had always lived for him. I was ready to live for myself. I didn’t want to go back to school at that age. I would’ve had to work full-time to put myself through, so it would’ve taken me until I was probably fifty before I graduated. Instead, I heard about an opportunity here and took a leap of faith.”

“You bought the inn.”

Aunt Jean laughed. “It wasn’t the inn you see today. It was a dilapidated shell, which I got it for a song. Did all the work myself, fixing it up. I taught myself about plumbing and wiring. Sanded the floors. Painted the walls. I opened up the B&B and never looked back. It’s been a wonderful place to have over the years. I’ve met so many interesting people who’ve stayed here.”

“You also have great friends. I remember meeting some of them when I was younger.”

“My friends have become my family,” her aunt admitted. “Especially after I didn’t see you anymore.”

“What happened, Aunt Jean? I was twelve when we stopped coming to visit you. It had to be something with Mom. Was it her drinking?”

Her aunt snorted. “Your mom was definitely the root of the estrangement. She always thought she was better than I was. I didn’t have her education and came from nothing. She put on airs and thought she was better than everyone around her.”

“I wonder how she wound up with Dad then. His background was yours.”

“Your daddy took advantage of the education I paid for. He sidled up to the right people and made friends with them. While I was working two, three jobs putting him through school, he spent weekends and holidays with that rich crowd. He taught himself how to speak like them. Imitate their gestures. He could mimic anything. Used to do great impressions of people, famous and otherwise.” Aunt Jean paused. “He might not have been born into that world, but he fit into it like a hand fits a glove. I’ll hand it to him. He studied hard. Made top grades. That gave him the chance to make a different kind of life for himself.”

“I knew we had money. We had a housekeeper and cook. People who cared for the lawn and garden. Our house was the always the biggest and nicest. I had the best clothes. But I was so unhappy.”

“I know you were. Believe me, my heart hurt because of that. Because I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“I always felt so different from my parents,” Reagan said, pouring her heart out to her aunt. “Mom was such a snob, and Dad went along with whatever she wanted. Actually, I realize now that they were big fish in a little pond. Dickinson was a small town, but they were at the top of the heap, financially and socially. And still Mom was unhappy. Or I guess she was. Isn’t that what drinking is all about?”

Her aunt pondered that statement. “I think she was happy in the beginning. Marrying your dad was a step up for her. Her background wasn’t nearly as grand as she let people think it was. She came from working-class parents. Their only child. They sacrificed everything so that she could have whatever she wanted. I hate to say it, honey, but your mom was spoiled rotten. Yes, she got to go to college and pledge the right sorority. She made friends with the up and comers, as well as the wealthy. But her life was empty. I don’t think she ever really knew who she was because she was always pretending to be someone else.”

Anger filled Reagan. “She had Dad. She had me. I was never enough for her, though. She wanted me to be homecoming queen. The most popular girl in school. She never supported me. Complimented me. Never really seemed to care for me. I guess that’s why I became a daddy’s girl. He saw me for who I was. I knew he loved me.” She paused. “I don’t think Mom ever did.”

Aunt Jean seemed to choose her words carefully now. “I believe there are people who are incapable of love, Reagan. They only love themselves. Your mom fit smack dab in that category.”

“I think she loved Dad.”

Her aunt sniffed. “I think she put on a good show about loving your dad, honey. She liked the easy life. The money he made. The opportunities it brought her. The clothes and house and nice cars he provided her with. She could run around and dabble in volunteer work, getting her name slapped on committees and letterheads, not every really doing any of the true work.”

“Tell me what happened between the two of you,” Reagan urged.

After a long moment, Aunt Jean said, “She tolerated coming here. Your parents even left you with me several times while they jetted off to Cozumel or Fiji or Paris when you were young. As you got older, your dad wanted you included on those trips.”

She recalled stretches of happy times when she was young, staying with Aunt Jean in Lost Creek. Those had ended when she was around six or seven, and she started traveling with her parents to exotic places during summer vacations. Her family only came for a week to Lost Creek and then left. After those brief visits, Reagan either went with her parents to cities abroad, or she was left at home with the housekeeper to supervise her while her parents traveled on their own.

“You called her out, didn’t you?”

“I most certainly did. I told her she was a selfish creature who never should have had a darling girl like you if she was going to ignore you the way she did. Our discussion grew pretty heated. She let it slip that she wished she’d never had you. That she wound up pregnant and had to marry your dad. Bragged about getting her tubes tied the moment you came out of her. Kids hadn’t been in her plans. She resented you, Reagan. Was jealous of you. Hated the time your dad spent with you.”

Reagan remembered how deliberately indifferent her mother was to her. It caused her to increasingly draw closer to her dad, who always seemed to have time for her.

“So, the blow-up was over me then.”

“Yes. Don’t feel guilty about it, though. It was coming. I’m surprised we both held our tongues as long as we did. In the long run, she hurt the two of us the most. Your mama knew cutting ties with me would kill me because I wouldn’t’ be able to see you anymore. Thank goodness your dad had the sense to give you your own phone.”

She had thought she received a cell phone because other girls in her class were getting them. Reagan had been overjoyed to have one. Not that she texted with any of her classmates. But the cell had allowed her to stay in close touch with her aunt.

“I’m sorry Mom hurt you so much.”

“I’m sorry she hurt you,” her aunt apologized. “It’s water under the bridge, though. You have a chance to start a new life now, Reagan.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I’m desperate to do that. Arch was my whole world. He was the first guy who really paid attention to me. He thought I was beautiful and funny.”

“Well, you are,” Aunt Jean insisted.

“I never felt like either until Arch. And then he was gone so fast. No warning. Just… dead. I’ll admit I was angry with him for a long time. Then I became blue. I know now I should’ve seen a therapist. Instead, I just delved deeper and deeper into work. It became my salvation. Then the bane of my existence.”

“I know you adored Arch, Reagan. You saw a life with him. You were going to create a marriage and then a family with him. Then the rug was pulled out from underneath you.”

“That’s exactly how it felt,” she agreed. “I was on steady ground. I had a plan. And then boom! It was gone.”

“You’re still young. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’ll find love again. You’ve already made steps toward finding friends.” Aunt Jean smiled knowingly. “I have a feeling you’re going to discover exactly what you want to do with your life. And who you want to do it with.”

“I hope so,” she said fervently.

They had finished their tea by now, and her aunt said, “I think I’ll head on to bed. I’d like to read a while and then watch the news. I’m assuming Tucker showed you which room was yours.”

Just the thought of the handsome country songwriter brought a smile to her lips.

“He did. I unpacked before we went to dinner.”

They hugged goodnight, and Reagan went to her room. She had talked with more people today than she had in the two years Arch had been gone.

And it felt really good.

As she fell asleep, she hoped Lost Creek would be the answer to her myriad of problems.