LITMIR.BIZ

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open with surprise and awe. When he saw the reception desk, his eyes widened.

      “Is this…?”

      “The same one you sold to Rico?” Emily said. “Yes.”

      The inn had been a guest house originally before the owners abandoned it. Roy’s story with the home mirrored her own in reverse. He’d wanted this place to be a family home, a haven for summer vacations. Emily had turned it back into a guesthouse, a business.

      “I can’t believe he kept it all these years,” Roy said with surprise, still looking at the desk. Then he turned his eyes to Emily. “Do you remember the day I sold it to him?”

      Emily shook her head silently.

      “You were quite adamant that I shouldn’t sell it,” he said with a chuckle. “You’d put a Barbie in every one of the drawers. Said it was a hospital for your dolls.”

      “I think I do remember,” Emily replied, feeling a little melancholy.

      “Rico was very kind about it,” Roy added. “Helped you to ‘transfer’ your ‘patients’ to another location. I think you chose the cupboard under the sink.” He, too, became somewhat wistful, and tore his attention away from the reception desk and back to the renovation work. “This really is incredible. You’ve done a fabulous job.”

      The sound of pride in his voice made Emily’s heart jolt. This moment was so much more than she could have hoped for. It was perfect.

      “Do you want a tour?” she asked.

      Roy nodded. Emily led him to the kitchen first. Inside, they could hear the sounds of the dogs barking from the laundry room.

      “I don’t know what to take in first,” Roy exclaimed, glancing around him at the fully restored kitchen with its original retro appliances and decorations. “The amazing renovation work or the fact you have pets!”

      “This is Mogsy and her puppy Rain!” Chantelle announced, opening up the utility room door and allowing the two to run inside.

      They rushed up to Roy, sniffing him and trying to lick his cheeks. Roy laughed, the fine lines around his face becoming more pronounced, and scratched them both behind the ears.

      “We don’t usually let them run around the kitchen,” Emily explained. “But since it’s a special occasion – ”

      Her voice cracked as that pang of melancholy she’d felt earlier returned. Being with her dad shouldn’t be “special”; it had been made that way by him leaving.

      From his crouched position, he looked up at her, his expression filled with regret.

      All at once, Emily felt a surge of anger. Some of her deeply buried hurt was beginning to bubble upward.

      “Let’s go to the dining room,” she said, hurriedly, not wanting it to surface.

      They went into the room with the large oak table. Straightaway Roy noticed that the heavy drape curtain that had once hung over the ballroom door was no longer there.

      “You found the ballroom,” he said.

      Something about the comment irritated Emily further. This wasn’t a game of hide-and-seek. She felt hotness creep into her cheeks.

      “Found it. Restored it. Soon to be getting married in it,” she said, as they passed along the low-ceilinged hallway and emerged into the huge ballroom.

      She could hear the snappiness in her voice and took a deep breath to calm herself.

      “Well, it looks beautiful,” Roy said, either oblivious to her mounting anger or not yet willing to confront it. “I’m surprised the stained glass looks so good after all this time.”

      “Daniel’s friend George renovated it,” Emily explained.

      “George?” Roy said, raising his eyebrows. “I remember him when he was this big.” He gestured with his hand to his waist to indicate a child’s height.

      It occurred to Emily then that Sunset Harbor was more her father’s town than it ever had been hers, that he knew people from this place better than she did, that in the years he’d lived here he’d planted more roots than she could ever hope to. A new emotion of jealousy wormed its way into the complex mixture of feelings she was already trying to keep at bay. She tried her hardest to keep a neutral expression on her face.

      They went upstairs next and Emily showed Roy the master bedroom, the room that had once been his and Patricia’s, then, presumably, his and Antonia’s when she’d visited, before finally becoming hers and Daniel’s.

      “This is fantastic,” Roy exclaimed. “The colors are so fresh.”

      He’d been far more into his dark colors, the sorts of crimsons and navy hues that she’d decorated the guest bedrooms in. The crisp white and eggshell blue had been far closer to her mother’s tastes, and Emily realized for the first time as she looked at her room that her style was a perfect blend of them both. Roy’s penchant for antiques – seen in the huge bed, the vanity desk, the ottoman – and Patricia’s cleanliness in the white colors. Emily felt like she was looking at the room anew.

      “My room is next door,” Chantelle said.

      Emily was relieved for the distraction. She guided Roy out of the room and into Chantelle’s, where he took in the delightful animal-themed furniture Emily had purchased for her. Chantelle waltzed around the room, proudly showing off her shelf of books, her wardrobe filled with dresses, her pile of cuddly toys, her wall of artwork.

      “Chantelle, you have quite a lovely room,” Roy said kindly, reminding Emily of that soft way he had with children, of the gentleness he’d spoken to her with back when he’d been in her life.

      Chantelle beamed with pride.

      “You chose not to put her in the room you and Charlotte shared?” he said. “The play room with the mezzanine?”

      Emily felt a little jolt of pain in her chest to hear him refer to her childhood room. He’d locked it up after Charlotte’s death, forcing Emily to switch rooms. That had been the first sign, Emily realized now, that her father wasn’t going to process Charlotte’s death, that her dying was going to become the catalyst to him abandoning her.

      “That’s the bridal suite,” Daniel explained, taking over while Emily remained mute. “The mezzanine was a great selling point. Plus, we wanted Chantelle close to us.”

      The emotion was getting to be too much for Emily. She had no idea it was possible to feel so many conflicting, complex things at once. It suddenly dawned on her that once this tour was over, once they sat down in the living room face to face, she would release an explosion of rage at her father.

      She felt her father’s hand on her arm suddenly, steadying her, reassuring her. She looked into his blue eyes, saw the grief and regret within them, mixing with utter relief. He was silently telling her that it was okay, he understood her anger. She didn’t need to keep hiding it.

      They traipsed through the rest of the floor, glancing into a few of the guest rooms so that Roy could get a taste of the decor. He hovered briefly beside his study door. The last time he’d been here he was two decades younger, his hair black instead of gray, his body slimmer and more agile instead of the slight paunch that now sat above his waistband.

      “It’s the same,” Emily replied. “I haven’t changed it.”

      He nodded, but didn’t say a word. She wondered if he was thinking about the myriad of documents he’d locked inside his desk, ones she had now read. The letters and secrets she’d found of his. Emily knew there was no way of knowing what Roy was thinking. The man was as much a mystery to her now as he always had been.

      They went to the third floor and Roy lingered for a while beside the stairs up to the widow’s walk. Was that New Year’s Eve evening on his mind? Emily wondered. The one where he’d told her not to be scared, to open her eyes and look at the fireworks? Or had he forgotten all those memories like she once had?

      Chantelle skipped around, showing him into all of the empty guest

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