“I suspect if everyone thought it through as deeply as your daughter there would be fewer abandoned pets.”
“I’m big on emphasizing responsibility. Or maybe I’m just a killjoy. I worry sometimes that without Brent around to balance it out, I’m making her cautious.” Hattie opened the wine. “Brent was more of an impulse person. Act now, and deal with the consequences later. He’d get these great ideas and plow ahead without thinking through the detail. We’ll figure it out, Hattie was his favorite phrase. But I prefer to figure things out before we do them. I think about the consequences first. Brent said it was like going through life with the brakes on. Wine?”
“Please. Considering consequences is part of being an adult, surely?” Erica watched as Hattie poured the wine carefully into the glasses. As someone who was instinctively guarded with people she didn’t know, it surprised her that Hattie was so open with her. She felt as if she knew her already. As if she’d been given a shortcut to everything she was. The who. The why. “But maybe I’m not the best person to talk to about that. In a way, that’s what I do for a living. I focus on consequences.”
Hattie set the bottle down and handed her a glass. “What do you do?”
“I specialize in crisis management. I started working in public relations, and always seemed to end up at the sharp end when there was a crisis. Thanks—” She took the glass from Hattie. She felt as if she should say more about herself, but the words lodged in her throat, refusing to leave her. It wasn’t natural for her to spill secrets about herself.
“I bet you’re really cool in a crisis.” Hattie tugged off her boots. “That explains why you were so calm when Stephanie and Chef Tucker walked out and I was in a panic.”
“It’s easy to be calm when it’s not your problem.”
“Maybe. I am bad at decision making. I’m so afraid of making a mistake that I end up not making a decision at all.” Hattie picked up her own glass. “I hate that about myself. I’d like to be confident and decisive.”
“Everyone has something they don’t like about themselves.”
“Do you?”
This was proving to be a very uncomfortable conversation.
Erica hesitated. “I find it hard to express emotions, even when I really want to express them. It’s as if they are jammed inside me.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that aloud. She half expected the world to collapse, and was surprised when all that happened was that Hattie nodded.
“Now I understand why you were so freaked out when I hugged you,” Hattie said. “It wasn’t because it was me, but because I was basically a stranger.”
“I was outside my comfort zone, that’s for sure.”
“And I know how hard that is. I’ve been out of my comfort zone every minute of the last couple of years. Most days I feel as if I’m never going to find my comfort zone again.” She pulled a face. “Do you think I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life in my discomfort zone?”
It was hard to be distant with someone so likable.
“I have a feeling you’ve reached a turning point.”
“Let’s hope so.” Hattie curled up on the sofa, tucking her legs under her. “So how does your job work? Companies call you when something awful has happened?”
“Sometimes. If they’re wise, they get me in before it happens. I work with senior teams to try and identify all the possible areas of vulnerability. Then we put together a plan. But not everything can be predicted. The unexpected happens.”
“It certainly does.” Hattie leaned back against the sofa. “Life is full of bombshells you never saw coming.”
“And you’ve had a few of those.” Erica took a sip of wine. She’d thought she didn’t want to get involved, but now she discovered she wanted to know more about Hattie. “You’ve had a tough few years. How are you coping?”
Hattie shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t ask myself that. I just deal with today’s problem and then move on to the next one.”
“That sounds like an excellent strategy.”
“It’s the only strategy, really,” Hattie said. “I’ve learned that there’s not much point in having a plan because something always derails it.”
“I should imagine there are plenty of interruptions and disturbances, what with running an inn and being a single mother.”
“You have no idea.”
Erica put her glass down. “Actually, I do. I was raised by a busy working single mother.” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. “I apologize if that was tactless.”
“Tactless because Dad was the one who left her as a single mother, you mean?” Hattie removed a small toy wedged behind her back. “That’s not tactless, that’s honest.”
She’d expected Hattie to sugarcoat it. To tell a version that bore no resemblance to the real version. “You’ve obviously known about me a lot longer than I’ve known about you.”
“It seems that way.” Hattie leaned across and topped up Erica’s glass and then her own.
“Thanks. So when did you find out?”
“About you?” Hattie put the bottle down and snuggled back on the sofa. “I’ve always known.”
“Always?”
“Yes.” She took a mouthful of wine and nodded. “This is good.”
Erica was more interested in the conversation than the wine. “What do you mean, always?”
“Dad never kept you a secret. I can’t remember when he first told me he had another daughter. I feel as if I’ve always known, so I suppose I must have been very young. He told me that when he was much younger he’d done a terrible thing. He had a relationship with a woman and when she ended up pregnant, he panicked. He left. It was the worst thing he’d ever done in his life, and it left him deeply ashamed. He said that there was no excuse for it. At the time, he was terrified by the responsibility. Terrified that he wasn’t able to be the person he needed to be.”
“He left my mother terrified, too. He walked out of the delivery room and never came back.”
“I know. It was an awful thing to do.” Hattie nursed her wine on her lap. Far from defending her father’s behavior, she appeared to be in complete agreement. “Truly awful. I can’t even imagine. If Brent had done that to me I would have tracked him down and haunted him forever. That’s if I ever recovered sufficiently from the panic attack to leave the delivery room. And it’s no consolation at all, but Dad knew that. He never forgot it, and he never, ever forgave himself. But he did learn from it. It colored everything he did.”
“What do you mean?”
Hattie pulled the throw around her. “For a start, he was determined never to let anyone down again. My mother died soon after I was born, and he said he felt that same terror because the responsibility was crushing. I suppose he had a taste of how your mother must have felt being left alone with a baby. But this time he was determined to do it right, and not only because he was the only person in the world I had left.”