“I know this is awkward, but—” Overwhelmed, Hattie felt tears mist her eyes and on impulse she stepped forward and hugged Erica. She wanted to bridge this awkwardness. She wanted to get past it as fast as possible. This was her sister. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.” She clung to her sister, feeling the brush of wool against her chin and breathing in her sophisticated scent. Her heart felt as if it had swollen to twice its normal size. She felt dampness on her cheeks and realized she was crying. And she realized something else—that Erica hadn’t moved from her position in the doorway. She hadn’t let go of the door. She hadn’t returned Hattie’s hug. She was standing rigid in her embrace and hadn’t said a single reassuring word. She hadn’t said anything at all.
Mortified, Hattie let go of her so suddenly that Erica almost lost her balance. “Sorry. So sorry. That was inappropriate.” She felt as if she was standing on quicksand, being sucked downwards. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so pleased to see you. No, not pleased. Pleased doesn’t begin to describe it. I never thought this day would come and that made me so sad. You’ve no idea how it feels to know you have a sister out there somewhere—a blood relative—and that you’re not in touch. I’d given up hoping. I’ve never believed in Christmas miracles before but now I think I do.”
Erica finally spoke. “You said you’ve waited for this moment for years—you knew about me?”
“Of course I knew about you. Dad told me everything. Not the fact that you use the name Erica—I don’t think he knew about that. But I always knew I had a sister out there somewhere. And now here you are.” Hattie’s smile faltered. “And I can see from your face that you’re not at all pleased to see me.”
This was so awkward. And to make things worse, she’d been stroking Rufus immediately before plucking up courage to knock on Erica’s door, and the hug had transferred a number of dog hairs from her sweater to Erica’s pristine red dress.
She shouldn’t have knocked on Erica’s door and she definitely shouldn’t have hugged her. First Noah, and now Erica. She seemed to have developed an unfortunate habit of indulging in unsolicited physical affection and it had to stop. It probably came across as disturbingly needy. She should have waited for her to make the first approach, but she’d been so unreasonably excited when she’d figured out who Erica was that she’d behaved like Rufus chasing a stick. She’d just gone for it, and damn the consequences. And now she was looking at the consequences.
Staring at Erica’s frozen features she wanted to rewind the clock and do things differently.
When Erica had made the reservation, the name hadn’t registered at all. Even when she’d walked into the inn, Hattie still had no idea that this was her sister. It wasn’t until Erica had picked up the photograph of Hattie with her dad that she’d finally realized who she was. Erica had lifted her gaze from the photograph and Hattie had known right away, not because of the degree of interest Erica had shown in the photo, but because of the physical similarities. She’d registered her eye color, that unusual shade that hovered between hazel and green, depending on the light. Hattie’s father had the same eyes. Hattie herself had the same eyes. It had been a visceral, heartrending moment.
She’d waited for Erica to make the first move, but then as the hours had passed and nothing had happened she’d changed her mind. She’d even wondered if she’d made a mistake about her identity.
But now, face-to-face with the older woman, she knew it wasn’t a mistake.
There was something vaguely intimidating about Erica. She was effortlessly elegant. She didn’t look like someone who was ever anything but perfectly groomed, and she had an aura of competence that Hattie envied. No one was ever going to take advantage of Erica. No one was ever going to walk over her. She probably never woke to mornings of doubt, wondering how she was going to make it through the day.
She decided that honesty was the only way forward. “What was your plan? Were you going to talk to me at some point?”
Before Erica could reply—would she have replied or would she just have carried on staring?—the door to the room next door opened, and the door opposite that one. Erica’s two friends stepped into the corridor. Anna and Claudia. Hattie always memorized the names of her guests and remembered them by noticing certain characteristics. In this case, it was Anna with the brown eyes and Claudia with the short, choppy hair.
They stopped the moment they saw Hattie.
Anna spoke first. “The rooms are gorgeous. This whole place is gorgeous. I could have stayed in the bath all night. How do you get your towels so fluffy? It felt like a punishment getting dressed.” She glanced from Hattie’s face to Erica. “You’ve been talking. You mustn’t think that the fact that we’re checking out tomorrow has anything to do with the inn. This place is exceptional, and we’ll be leaving a glowing review.”
“You’re checking out?” Hattie stared at her and then turned to look at Erica, expecting a denial or some words of reassurance that it was a misunderstanding. “Why would you check out? You just arrived.”
Erica closed her eyes briefly. “Yes, we did. But—”
Oh, this was awful. Erica obviously never had any intention of having a conversation with her. She was running away.
“Don’t worry.” Hattie tried to rake together the last of her dignity. “Forget it. My mistake.”
Erica finally let go of the door. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think I do.” Hattie’s hands were clenched into fists by her sides. “You came here to take a look at me, and you didn’t like what you saw.”
Erica frowned. “Hattie—”
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a full restaurant this evening and a couple checking in late so I should go.” She backed away and knocked into the wall behind her, emotion making her clumsy. “If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable for the one night you’re here, let me know.”
She was back to being an innkeeper, and not a sister. It should have been easy, because it wasn’t as if she had any experience in being a sister.
Without giving Erica the opportunity to speak again she almost sprinted back down the corridor. Her cheeks burned and she felt stupid. There was humiliation, and there was also hurt. Rejection always hurt and that had most certainly been a rejection. But there was a particular type of pain that came from acknowledging that her powerful urge to know her sister wasn’t returned. She felt bruised, as if someone had taken a hammer to her insides, and the intensity of her emotions made no sense. She’d lived without a sister for twenty-eight years, so why would she suddenly feel as if she’d lost something important? Essential. How could you lose something you’d never had? Was she really so emotionally starved that she needed a stranger in her life? No, she wasn’t. She had Delphi. She had Rufus. She had wonderful neighbors and friends in the town. She stopped herself from thinking she had Noah. She wasn’t sure what her relationship with Noah was, and she couldn’t even think about that right now.
Her mind in a spin, she headed down the stairs and back into the reception area, which she’d left barely minutes earlier so full of hope. And because she was thinking of her sister rather than looking where she was going she slammed straight into the man heading toward her office.
“Whoa—” Strong hands gripped her arms and steadied her.
And there he was. Right in front of her. Noah.
“I’m sorry—” She gasped out the words. “I was—”
“Distracted by the looks of it. Has something happened?” He kept his hands on her arms. “What’s wrong?”