With his business training and background, Brent was well suited to become an entrepreneur, and William actually had been glad to assume the reins at Albright Enterprises. Brent hadn’t fully understood that William had been hurt he’d been passed over for consideration by their grandfather. William was, after all, the oldest, but somehow Grandpa Chad never figured him first in line for the job. Not until Brent pointed out how perfect William would be at it, with his very sharp intellect and the diplomatic skills he’d honed during years spent in academia.
Things were going well with Sofia’s pregnancy—she’d passed through the danger zone of the first trimester with flying colors, and all was on course for a healthy delivery.
William and Sofia still wanted Brent to be their baby’s godfather, and he couldn’t very well say no. The truth was, he was honored they’d selected him for the role. While Brent’s family wasn’t Catholic, Sofia, whose background was Dominican, had been raised as one, and William had converted before their marriage.
Brent’s phone rang beside his computer, and he picked it up.
“Grandmother,” he said, noting the caller. “What a nice surprise. You and Grandpa still in Maine?”
“Yes, till after Labor Day, although this time of year I tend to regret the decision.”
Brent chuckled. “So how’s Blue Hill?”
“Hot and buggy.” She sighed. “It’s August. How is the consulting going?”
“Really well. Several of my old contacts have come through for me. And, you know, word of mouth. I think my reputation precedes me.”
She laughed at his stab at humor. “Let’s hope it’s in a good way.”
“You know you can count on me, Grandmother.”
“I always have.” She paused and then pressed ahead. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Brent, who’d been absentmindedly flipping through some charts on his screen, stopped, giving his grandmother his full attention. “Go on.”
“It’s about Hope, actually.”
“Hope? Webb?”
“I got a letter from her yesterday and decided to sleep on it. After some thought, I think you need to see it.”
Brent’s heart pounded as they ended their call with his grandmother agreeing to forward Hope’s correspondence. A memory came back to him in a flash, and he recalled being in his SUV with Hope on the way to the Boston airport.
She’d claimed people only sent snail mail when it was important. In any case, she stated that she would once she had something important to say. What puzzled Brent was why she’d decided to say it to his grandmother instead of him.
He’d have to wait three more days and for the mail to be delivered to find out.
…
Hope left her teacher training seminar at the county office building feeling invigorated. The school district planned motivational and educational meetings for its teachers each year. There were additional annual kickoff events hosted at the individual school level. Hope was glad to be returning to her job. She needed something to do each day besides hide under the covers and eat Iris’s brownies.
“How was your summer?” Jessica asked as they walked toward their cars with their teacher bags and purses slung over their shoulders. Jessica was about Hope’s age, maybe a few years older.
“Okay. How was yours?”
The woman held out her ring finger, displaying a pretty diamond solitaire. “Good.”
Hope stopped walking to hug her. “How exciting! You have to tell me all the details.”
“I will. Maybe at lunch?”
Hope had quite a few teacher friends but was always happy to make one more. Jessica taught science, so they saw each other occasionally for cross-curricular planning but they’d never been close. Surrounding herself with more happy people seemed like the right idea. Besides that, she liked Jessica a lot and admired her as a teacher. Students totally loved her, and her classes were always overenrolled.
“I’d love to do lunch. When were you thinking?”
“How about that last teacher workday before our student open house? A bunch of us from the science department are getting together. No reason we can’t include some of you math nerds, too.”
“Ha-ha, thanks.”
“I mean it,” she said brightly. “If there’s anyone else you can think of who you’d like to have join us, that would be super. We’re meeting at that fun outdoor Mexican restaurant, and, you know, the more the merrier.”
…
Brent lived in one of those rare places where the mail was still delivered on foot and pushed through a slot in the front door. Each day, when he heard the mail arrive, his blood pumped harder, and he found it impossible to concentrate until he’d picked it up and fanned through it. He’d hadn’t expected the forwarded letter from his grandmother to arrive the day after talking with her, but he’d looked for it the next day. And the day after that…
Finally, it was here.
He set the rest of his mail on the entry table and walked into the small living room with a turret-style window. He’d furnished his place in modern decor, which was quite swanky to look at but honestly not that comfortable. He sat in a hard-backed chair, examining the envelope. It was addressed in his grandmother’s hand with her Blue Hill return address, and the envelope was thick. He guessed because she’d tucked Hope’s original letter and envelope inside.
Brent broke the seal on the outer envelope, surprised to find his fingers shaking. Two months. It had been more than two months since he’d seen her standing there crying in the Boston airport, and they’d never officially said goodbye. A lump welled in his throat when he considered that maybe that was what Hope had done in her letter. Said farewell to all of them.
He unfolded the piece of stationary that was decorated around the edges with blueberries. It looked like something one might find in Maine, and Brent wondered if she had bought the paper during her time in Blue Hill. Maybe on her girls’ day out with the rest of the women.
He stared at Hope’s carefully crafted script written in blue ink pen. The letter was dated two weeks ago, and he wondered whether the letter had gone adrift in mail delivery or whether Hope had written it earlier and then waited to send it.
Dear Mrs. Albright, it began.
You probably think it’s bold of me to contact you this way, and I’ll totally understand if you decide not to read this letter. I sincerely hope you will, though, because there’s so much I have to apologize for and say.
Someone wise once said that sometimes “sorry’s not good enough,” and now I know that’s true. There’s no way to undo my deception of your grandson and your family, and I speak from the heart when I say if there was a way I could take everything back, I would.