“Where would I go?”
Cara lifted her shoulders slightly. “Why, you could go home,” she replied evenly. “I believe you weren’t completely happy to have left there in the first place? That your father was the one who thought it was a good idea. Now you have an excuse to return. Isn’t that what you’d like?”
“No,” Heather blurted out. “No, it’s not what I’d like.” This came out with more heat than she’d intended.
Cara’s smile had slipped and her brows were gathered. “I see,” she said carefully. She lifted her chin while brushing away a piece of lint on her skirt. “Then I’m really very sorry. But I need to return here. It’s my home. I have my reasons.”
Heather only looked at her.
“So, I have to ask you to leave. Would the end of the month be all right with you?”
Heather felt her heart rate zoom and the early signs of a panic attack flood her senses. She rose abruptly to her feet.
“Excuse me.” Her hands were clenched at her sides as she walked quickly from the room into the kitchen. She bent over the counter and stood for a moment with her eyes squeezed tight, breathing deeply and swallowing away her nausea. Why did Bo have to go? She needed him here with her. To talk to and figure out what to do. How can I argue with Cara? She’s so calm and superior, and here I am, having a panic attack in the kitchen, trying not to throw up.
Her inner critic was shouting at her: You’re not up to winning this argument. You won’t be able to get a word out. Why take the chance if it’s going to blow up in your face anyway? Someone like Cara wouldn’t be telling you that if she hadn’t checked with her lawyers.
Heather pushed away from the counter and began pacing the floor, opening and closing her fists rapidly as her mind went through her options. Cara seemed so sure in her knowledge that she could effectively break the lease. But could she? Part of Heather felt powerless against someone like Cara. She was the landlady. She owned the house. But something was off. What rights did Heather actually have? She saw her phone on the kitchen counter and, thanking her stars, grabbed it. Immediately she started to call her dad. He’d always come to her rescue.
Then her hand stilled. No, she told herself. No, no, no! Ya feel like vomiting? Afraid you might have a panic attack? Sweating profusely from every orifice of your body? Well, nobody has to know unless you want them to! You can’t cower in here. You don’t need your daddy to defend you. You don’t need Bo. This is your house. Your life. It’s up to you. You have to put on your big-girl pants and deal with this yourself.
She looked down at her phone and went to Google. She typed in can a landlord break a lease. She quickly had legal information at her fingertips. She read through several sites, and when she finished the third she lowered her hand and felt her heart rate slowing. She set the phone back on the counter, her fingertips tapping on it as she thought. According to what she’d read, Cara could not simply kick her out. She’d done nothing to break the renter’s agreement, so Cara had no grounds. Heather released a smile that felt like hope.
Now all she had to do was go back in there and stand up for her rights. She felt a flutter sweep over her. That, of course, was her biggest obstacle. She thought of Bo’s parting words: “Don’t worry.” You’ve got this.
She closed her eyes again and pictured Bo’s face. A series of images flashed through her mind. His knowing grin when he knew she could do something—drive the golf cart, catch a fish, talk to Cara. Bo rejected her belief that she wasn’t good enough. He showed her in meaningful ways that she was worthy of his love. Did she love him enough to believe him?
Knowing she was valuable and worthwhile—that she was good enough—was a new feeling for her. But—and this made Heather catch her breath—she instinctively felt it was true. She just needed the confidence. Shutting out the negative voice, she tried to think of reasons she would succeed.
She had proved she was successful when she put her effort into something. She was intelligent, capable. She ran her own small business. She could at the very least have a conversation about the subject and not just cower in the corner and do what she was told. Even if her confidence faltered again in the future, for now, she had to take the first step.
She saw the worry stone on the windowsill by the pot of basil, where she had put it. She picked it up and, holding it tight, walked back into the living room.
Cara was still sitting on the sofa, one elbow on the armrest and her head bent against her palm, eyes closed. She straightened when she heard Heather walk into the room.
“There you are,” Cara said with a pained smile. “I thought for a moment you’d abandoned me in a fit of fury.”
Heather walked back to her chair and sat down. She set her hands in her lap, the worry stone in one, crossed her legs, and straightened her shoulders. “I wasn’t angry,” she said, squeezing her hands together. “I was upset. I needed to collect my thoughts.”
“And?”
“And . . .” She took a breath. “Cara, you are mistaken. You can’t break the lease.”
Cara shifted her weight on the sofa. “I own this house. It’s my house. I can do what I want.”
Heather heard the wavering emotion in Cara’s voice and suddenly realized that Cara hadn’t checked with her lawyer about this. She couldn’t have. She’d just given herself away. Heather lifted her chin a notch.
“I just checked my rights,” Heather said. “I Googled it. That’s what I was doing in the kitchen. And I know that though you own this house, you can’t just kick me out.”
“I’m not trying to kick you out. I’m giving you an option to break your lease.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Why go that route?” Cara said with weariness entering her voice. “This needn’t be unpleasant.”
Heather’s words came bubbling out. “Cara, I need to stay! I love it here. And my work is going so well. If I left now, it would stop my progress cold. Don’t you see? It’s not the money. I can’t afford the break in time. I have to work while the birds are here. And the committee has deadlines for my sketches.”
Cara dropped her hand and looked up. Her eyes were dull and she squinted slightly, as if she was in pain. “Couldn’t you find someplace else to rent on the island?”
“Couldn’t you?”
Cara rubbed her palms together, as if trying to control her emotions. “For me . . .” She stopped and looked away. Then she said resolutely, “There is no other place.”