Coming Home, page 1
COMING HOME
CAROL WYATT
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
Copyright © 2023
ALSO BY CAROL WYATT
Wildest Dreams
Wanderlust
Starting Over
Winter Magic
Serendipity
Daring To Dream
Paradise
Silver Bells
Hollywood Dreams
Summer Days
Waiting For Her
Autumn Bliss
Hollywood Secrets
Dreaming of Home
Star Power
The Stars Over Hollywood
Country Dreams
Wanting Her Boss
Box Sets
The Carol Wyatt Box Set: Volume 1
The Carol Wyatt Box Set: Volume 2
From May To December: Volume 1
From May To December: Volume 2
From May To December: Volume 3
From May To December: Volume 4
Just Famous
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Thank You
Also by Carol Wyatt
1
Emily Reid drove down familiar roads surrounded by white-tipped pine trees, steering her rental car around a bend, the snow falling heavier here than it had been when she’d left the city a little over three hours ago.
The afternoon sun had already begun to disappear behind the trees as Emily turned down Main Street where storefronts twinkled with lights and festive wreaths, a wave of nostalgia coming over her as she drove slowly, taking in her hometown and all its familiar sights, like Tony’s Pizzeria and The Winding Stairs, the bookshop where she used to beg her parents to take her to every weekend, always ready to dive into another book.
The lampposts were wrapped with garland and warm lights, the sidewalks covered in snow, and Emily couldn’t believe that she hadn’t made it home for Christmas since she’d left almost twelve years ago.
It was impossible to ignore the guilt that bubbled up as she continued driving down the street as the fading light dipped behind the buildings, and the Christmas tree in the town square came to life as the lights were switched on.
New York City had always impressed her this time of year, but there was something special about being back here, where she grew up, and Emily wished it hadn’t taken her so long to come back, that it hadn’t taken the loss of her last living grandparent to get her here.
When her grandfather passed away in January, she’d intended to come home for Christmas this year, knowing how much it would mean to her family to finally get back, even if it was just for a few days, but when she received the news a few weeks ago that she was going to inherit her grandfather’s cabin, she knew she’d need to spend more time here.
When her boss had found out, he’d insisted that she take the entire month of December off to come upstate and decide what she wanted to do with the property and spend time with her family.
Emily had been so shocked by his suggestion that she hadn’t pushed back.
A month off of work?
Yes, she was due time off. But that was because she worked so hard that she could never seem to use up her vacation days.
How could she take a month off?
But here she was, on December 3rd, turning off the main road, following the twists and turns until she was several miles away from town, surrounded by woods, her headlights illuminating three deer as they darted across the road and into the snow-covered forest, leading her up to her grandfather’s log cabin, the tires crunching on the snow.
Darkness had all but set in as Emily left the car running, the headlights shining on the property. The logs were barely visible beneath the snow, everything a blur of white and gray and black. She hadn’t received the keys yet. She would any day now according to the attorney that had gotten in touch with her. But she wanted to come out here before she went to her parents’ home. She knew she wouldn’t be able to see much now that it was practically dark, and she didn’t even get out of the car, the flakes drifting to the ground and gathering on her windshield.
She sat there for a few minutes, in the driver’s seat, wondering how so many years could have passed so quickly. She was thirty-five years old, and while she’d achieved so much professionally, living a fast-paced in New York City, she had to ask herself, at what price?
She could have come home for Christmas any year, but she always chose not to, knowing that her boss would be short-handed those days. Not everyone celebrated Christmas, and he always said that while others were drinking egg-nog and running around buying last-minute presents, there were so many deals to be done, so many campaigns to pitch and clients to close.
And Emily had bought into that mentality.
She felt a pang in her heart now as she took one last look through the gray haze, the snowflakes thicker now, before she reversed her car out of the snow-covered driveway and onto the road. She couldn’t change the past. She had plenty of memories to remember her grandfather by, and he had lived a long life, getting to eighty-seven years old, but that didn’t stop Emily from being shocked by the call she’d received from his attorney.
Why had he left her the house? She only had one older sister, Rebecca, and she had a beautiful home with her husband, but there were other members of the family that he could have left it to.
Why hadn’t he just left it to his children to decide who might like to live there or if they were better off selling and splitting the proceeds?
Emily had no idea.
They’d had a close relationship right up until she decided to move to the city, but she’d visited so rarely, that his decision baffled her. It was all she could think about as she drove back down Main Street, and she had to pull in, finding a space right outside the coffee shop that was still there all these years later.
She wanted to think about her options before she went home and got swept up in baking with her mother or watching college football with her father. Now, that she’d been up to the cabin, it suddenly became so much more real.
And she had to decide what she was going to do with it. She wanted to do some research, even if it was just a few minutes spent on her phone, checking local real estate prices and comparing the short-term vs long-term rental markets, because she knew she wasn’t ready to sell it. Not yet, anyway.
The snowflakes continued to fall from the dark sky as she got out of the car, the town looking even more festive now that all the lights were on, glowing against the night sky. The sidewalks were busy with couples and families out on a Saturday evening, maybe doing their first bit of Christmas shopping.
Emily pulled open the coffee shop door, the scent of hot chocolate immediately hitting her as she took in the bakery, noticing all of the things that had changed. It still had an incredibly cozy feel, but the tables were all new, even if they looked rustic.
The fireplace was still there, the flames licking the split logs that crackled as two women sat at the table beside it. A huge blackboard hung behind the counter displaying a wide range of coffee varieties, desserts, cakes, and sandwiches written in beautiful white calligraphy.
Her stomach rumbled, distracting her as her eyes moved back over the menu, unable to decide what she wanted until she saw a young woman behind the counter bringing out a fresh batch of apple crumble tarts.
That was exactly what she needed right now and a cup of coffee. Then she’d head home before too much snow had fallen.
2
The bell above the door of The Winding Stairs jingled as Quinn Grant left the bookshop with a thriller and a cozy mystery instead of the latest biography of an entrepreneur or tech mogul. The snowflakes fell thick and lazily, taking their time as they made their way to the ground, the heavy footfall of people in town today not letting it gather.
She’d made sure to evolve her lecture material over the years, adding relevant marketing campaigns that all of her students would recognize and using them to demonstrate the psychology of that company’s marketing tactics.
If Quinn had stuck to the basic material, what was in the textbooks assigned to that course, she’d put her students to sleep. And that meant reading a lot, which she enjoyed, but she also spent more time on social media than she’d like to, even if it was for research purposes. Her own profiles were private, and she actually didn’t know why she bothered keeping them. She never used them, but if she ever did try online dating, she figured she had to have somewhere to direct someone.
She stood outside the bookstore, taking in the festive atmosphere. When she’d entered the bookshop, it had still been daylight, but now the Christmas lights glowed, and the town really did look like something out of a movie. She knew they’d started actively campaigning
This was what they should be focusing on. December and all of this festive cheer.
When Quinn had moved here ten years ago, she’d been house hunting this time of year, and she’d been struck by the charm and the community spirit of this town. It was a complete contrast to the busyness of the college town she’d been living in, wanting to be just five minutes from campus, but it had come at a price.
Quinn couldn’t step outside her door without running into a current or former student. They were everywhere, taking jobs and staying during the summer. At first, Quinn had loved that aspect of it, of feeling like their college and town provided a real home away from home for its students, but after a few years, Quinn struggled to switch off.
She’d be enjoying a glass of wine with another lecturer or even a date, and they’d end up having a group of students sitting at the table beside them. It wasn’t that they were loud or immature. It just affected their evening. Quinn wouldn’t feel like she could chat as freely, and she’d definitely be conscious of the glass of wine in her hand, almost afraid to order a second or third.
Quinn remembered wandering up and down this street on an evening just like this, with the Christmas lights bright against the dark sky, and the scent of mulled wine in the air. She’d discovered the bookstore that day and the coffee shop too.
A shiver chased up her spine, and her feet were already moving, thinking about the table beside the fire in that coffee shop and how nice it would be to sip on a latte to warm up.
Quinn strolled down the busy sidewalk, admiring the window displays of the shops and restaurants. How was it December? It seemed like the semester had only started.
This time of year was always a strange one for Quinn. She did look forward to it, but it was always tainted with the twinge of loneliness. Thanksgiving, then her birthday, Christmas, and finally New Year’s. All reminders of the fact that she was alone.
She tried not to focus on that. She knew she had a lot to be thankful for. She’d made the right decision to move to this town, and as a result, she’d made wonderful friends. She still had the job that she loved. She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of teaching.
She just had to stay busy, really. That had always been her antidote to feeling alone. Her home wasn’t even a ten-minute drive away from town, so she made sure to come in often, even when she was tired after a long day at work. On weekends, she came into the coffee shop and had breakfast or a pastry in the early afternoon if she’d already eaten at home.
The snow continued to fall now, and this was the first real snowfall of the season. At least eight, maybe ten or twelve inches, would fall tonight and into the morning. That was what motivated her to buy the thriller and the cozy mystery. She planned on curling up on the couch in front of the fire tomorrow and enjoying some guilt-free reading. Work could wait. She had papers to grade, but she’d get to them in the afternoon when she had a football game on in the background.
Quinn pulled open the door of the coffee shop, the scent of pastries and coffee beans greeting her. She spotted her friend, Lucy, already sitting by the fire, and Quinn gave her a wave before she got in line.
She smiled warmly at the barista who greeted her, and the two caught up on each other’s news until Quinn was ready to order.
Quinn couldn’t resist a gingerbread latte. The aroma of ginger and spice wafted up from its creamy surface, like a freshly-baked batch of gingerbread cookies just out of the oven.
“Shopping?” Lucy asked, eyeing up Quinn’s bag.
“Only for me.” Quinn took off her coat and hung it on the back of the chair before she sat down, the warmth of the fire already permeating her gray jeans. “I got two new books, that psychological thriller I was telling you about and a cozy mystery that sounded interesting.”
Lucy nodded approvingly and sipped at her coffee as Quinn shared more about her plans for tomorrow. “About that… I was wondering if you’d meet—“
“No.” Quinn held up her hand.
“How do you even know what I was going to say?”
“Because it’s always the same thing. And where are you finding all these amazing, single women?”
Lucy shrugged, tucking a single lock of her fiery red hair behind her ear. “Friends of friends.”
Quinn sighed. “If they’re so great, why aren’t you going out with them?”
“You know how much I value my freedom.”
“Hm.” Quinn was starting to wonder if Lucy had the right attitude, if maybe not everyone needed to settle down and be in a relationship to be happy. She’d been doing just fine all these years. Why did anything have to change?
Quinn took a sip of her latte, the taste of cream and sugar comforting her. “You know, I think I’m going to be just fine by myself. I appreciate the thought. But yeah… I think I need to accept that this is more than likely it. Me and you being single,” she added with a smile.
Lucy cracked a knowing smile, a mix of respect and admiration in her eyes. “If that’s what you want, then I support it wholeheartedly.” She raised her cup for a toast before taking a sip. “But staying single doesn’t mean always being alone.”
Quinn shook her head as she smiled. “Talk to me in the New Year, okay?”
“Okay.”
She settled in beside the fire, feeling its gentle warmth and basking in its golden light. The logs were large and gave off an aromatic woodsy smell as they burned, crackling brightly with each shift of the flames. The wood snapped and popped with vigor, sending sparks flying against the screen.
The rich aroma of spiced and sweetened apples mixed with the earthy smell of the logs burning beside her. She glanced back toward the counter to see one of the girls filling up the glass case with what looked like apple crumble.
“I need to try that,” Quinn said, turning back to Lucy. “Do you want one?”
“Please.”
Quinn got up, immediately feeling the absence of the fire’s heat. There was a line now of six people, but it would be worth the wait. Everything she’d ever had here had been delicious.
Quinn’s steps slowed as she met the woman’s eyes as she joined the line. Her hair was a dark, rich brown like freshly brewed coffee, with threads of golden highlights running through it when the light hit in just the right way, a cascade of soft, loose waves that framed her face, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue from the cold winter air.
Quinn knew her, but from where?
She was strikingly beautiful, so Quinn couldn’t have forgotten if they’d been on a date, although the second that thought entered her mind, she chased it away.
This woman was too young for that to even be a possibility. She was probably in her early thirties, and Quinn would be fifty next week.
But there was undeniably a sense of recognition between them since this woman was staring back at her with an almost perplexed expression. Her eyes seemed to be searching hers as if looking for answers.
Only a few seconds had passed, although it felt like so much longer, and that confused feeling lingered even when the woman’s gaze eventually softened into a kind smirk.
3
Emily took her spot at the back of the line, tempted to take out her phone and make sure she wasn’t missing anything at work, but she forced herself to ignore it, at least for the weekend.
She was supposed to be taking time off, and she had to learn how to leave work at work. She’d done more than her fair share, always coming in early, staying late.
Emily forgot what she was thinking about when her eyes locked on a blond-haired woman coming towards her. It all seemed to happen in slow-motion, like one of those scenes from a movie, where time almost stands still.
