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Jenny struts back over to our booth. “Table two didn’t leave a tip. What’s wrong with people?”
I glance at the line forming by the door. “It’s busy tonight. I can jump in and take a few tables.”
“No.” Santiago’s tone warns me not to argue.
“You’re not working on your birthday.” Jenny tugs my elbow until I’m standing. “You’re going to call Greg back, and give him a piece of your mind. Better yet, give him a piece of my mind—it’ll be meaner. Then you’re going to crawl into bed with a pint of Mint Chocolate Chip, and watch Bridesmaids.”
And I do exactly that—minus the part where I talk to Greg.
I’ll worry about him in the morning.
When I’m under the covers and Kristen Wiig is on the screen, I scoop a spoonful of Mint Chocolate Chip into my mouth, and try to focus on the movie. But Mom’s last words echo in my mind. “You will not cancel that trip. I know I can’t be there with you, and I’m sorry about that. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go. I can’t leave you knowing that you’ll be wasting away at that diner every day. I want you to live a happy, fulfilled life. I want you to experience the same joy you’ve brought me all these years. I want you to do the things I won’t be able to do. Please, Charly. Do this for me.”
I pull my MacBook onto my lap, and type the name of the bed and breakfast into the browser. When Mom and I planned this trip last September, we didn’t want to be too far from her doctors, yet far enough out of Manhattan to feel like a vacation. As soon as I spotted Sunnyside Inn, the picturesque bed and breakfast in Bar Harbor, Maine, my heart whispered,That’s the one.I think something inside me wanted to take the nameSunnysideliterally.
At just over seven hours away from home, the quaint Victorian cottage called to me through my laptop screen. Wicker furniture lines the porch with slow-spinning fans overhead—the perfect spot to sit and watch the rain fall, or listen to the leaves rustling in the warm breeze. It’s vastly different from the loud, bustling city building I’ve grown up in. It’s the perfect place to escape from reality.
It’s late, so instead of calling the front desk, I tap out an e-mail to the owner:
Re: Johnson Reservation
Dear Mrs. Holden,
My name is Charlene Johnson, and I have a room booked at your inn next month. I’m supposed to be coming with my mother, but she recently passed away. I was going to cancel the trip altogether, but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to keep my reservation. I won’t be needing two beds, so if you have a smaller room with a single bed available, that’d be great.
Thank You,
Charly
A few minutes later, my laptop dings with a new e-mail:
Re: Johnson Reservation
Dear Charly,
I’m very sorry for your loss. We don’t have any vacancies at the moment, so you can keep the original room you booked. If anything becomes available before then, I’ll make the switch for you.
Sunnyside is the perfect place to heal. You’ll enjoy your stay here.
See you next month.
B.
My stomach sours at the thought of staying in a room with an empty bed meant for my mother. But if I want to do this, I’ll have to deal. Sunnyside is the perfect place to heal. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.
After the movie ends, and I’ve polished off most of the ice cream, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I groan, expecting it to be Greg again, but Jenny’s name lights up the screen.
I sit up and scoot back against the headboard. “Hey. How was work?”
“Work was work. Buzz me up.”
I fling the comforter off my legs, and scurry to the intercom by the door. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
“Did you really think I was going to let my best friend spend her birthday alone?” She hangs up, and a minute later she jogs up the stairs with a large pink gift bag dangling from her finger. “Plus, I have to give you your present.”
