When We Were Sisters

by Cynthia Ellingsen

Genres: Women's Fiction; Friendship

Synopsis

The vanity had a cupboard beneath it, where a small shoebox waited for us. For a brief moment, I imagined my grandmother placing it there like a clue for a treasure hunt. I passed it to Charlotte. She hesitated, then opened the lid, revealing a letter inside…

When Jayne Winters learns that she has inherited half of her grandmother’s oceanside estate in North Carolina, she is stunned. It’s been twenty years since she visited Woodsong Harbor, but Jayne can still remember the taste of saltwater taffy on her tongue, the tangy scent of the ocean blending with freshly baked pastries in the air. But there is a catch: Jayne must spend the next six months renovating the house with her estranged sister, Charlotte.

Arriving at the gorgeous but crumbling Victorian house, Jayne is transported back to the one magical summer she and Charlotte spent there and hopes that maybe this can be a fresh start. But it seems Charlotte doesn’t share the same wish, and her frosty demeanor leaves Jayne feeling lonelier than ever. Luckily there are other people in town she can turn to, not least the handsome local fireman Logan, who understands only too well what it’s like to have your family torn apart.

With Logan’s help, Jayne feels brave enough to confront her sister and start to mend the years of silence between them. But just as it seems like they may be able to have a relationship after all, the sisters discover a letter that reveals the truth about their parents’ bitter divorce. As sides are taken and tensions build, it seems their grandmother’s dream of reuniting Jayne and Charlotte may never come true.

Will one heart-stopping final discovery drive them apart forever, or can the two sisters find it in their hearts to forgive the past and finally heal the rift between them?

An emotional and life-affirming story about sisters, secrets and forgiveness, from the bestselling author of The Lighthouse Keeper. Fans of Mary Ellen Taylor, Robyn Carr and Mary Alice Monroe won’t be able to put this down.

What readers are saying about Cynthia Ellingsen:

“Phenomenal!Immediately pulled me into the story and I couldn’t set the book down until I’d finished… This will be one of those books that I reach for time and again.” Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

“Kept me turning the pages… I couldn’t put it down and finished it in a day!… feels like a warm hug.” Goodreads reviewer

“Such a beautiful and emotional story… completely captured my heart and my sense of adventure.” Berit Talks Books

“Hooked from the first page… I found myself wanting to read faster and know what happens next.” The Writer’s Workout

“Will tug at readers’ heartstrings and make them laugh and cry… a stirring tale of love, loss and loyalty that manages to be life-affirming, heart-breaking and uplifting at the same time…

Release date: August 11, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Mist swirled around the house on the hill, the view like a memory I had revisited too often in my mind. I dug my toes into the sand, the rough grains giving way to the wet cold underneath. The waves churned steadily against the shore as a sharp breeze blew in from the ocean, and I shivered.

In some ways, it felt like minutes since I’d been back to the North Carolina coast. I could practically see me at twelve years old, racing down the wooden steps that led from the edge of the bluff to the beach grass and then the sand. My grandmother always stood at the top, watching me and my sister, her smile as bright as the sun.

Each time, I’d held tight to Charlotte’s hand as we’d raced into the ocean. Fresh air would fill my lungs and the cool crash of the waves slapped against the mosquito bites that covered my legs. We would dive under, then swim towards the horizon with steady kicks.

That one day, I had swum with her until we were past the waves, then I flipped onto my back to float, enjoying the way the saltwater seemed to lift me up. I felt alive and invincible, grateful for each moment with the sister I’d been separated from my entire life. Turning my head, I’d watched as she pushed her body towards the sandbar, something I hadn’t yet been brave enough to do.

Charlotte had been raised in the suburbs with a pool in her backyard but I’d grown up in Ireland. The only swimming lessons I’d had were indoors and there hadn’t been many of them. Besides, there was a big difference between the controlled, still water in a chlorinated pool and the relentless, stinging tear of the ocean.

Charlotte beckoned me to follow her out. Even though I was afraid, something pushed me to flip onto my stomach and try. I drove my body with surprisingly strong strokes, my breath quick as the water splashed against my face. The ocean became deeper, colder, and my limbs began to feel heavy, but I pressed on.

Charlotte looked back at me and waved her hand. I waved back, trying to indicate I planned to join her at the sandbar. She gestured and called out, but her words were lost in the wind. I watched as her face changed to panic. Her hand stretched up, clawing the air, right before she went under.

My heart nearly stopped. It was early in the morning, so we were the only two people in the water. My grandmother was too far away to do anything. I refused to lose my sister, even if it might mean losing myself in the process. Gritting my teeth until my jaw ached, I swam through the ocean as fast as I could.

I dove down like Charlotte had taught me during our seaweed hunts, keeping my eyes open in spite of the pain. My third try, I spotted dark hair drifting through the water like the tentacles of a jellyfish. I reached down and grabbed it, yanking her up with every ounce of strength I had. She broke the surface, gasping and choking.

“Hang on.” The weight of her body half-pulled me under but I fought for the both of us. “I’ve got you.”

It would have been impossible to make it to shore but the sandbar was in sight. My lungs burned and my limbs were heavier with each inch gained. Just as I lost the ability to go farther, the strong arms of my grandmother wrapped around the both of us, dragging us to safety.

That day, I realized I would do anything to save my sister. It was hard to believe that, in the end, she would still make the choice to leave me behind.

Sliding on my sunglasses, I walked back through the sand to the beach lot where I’d parked.

The morning chilled me as I cracked my car window to let in the saltwater air. I had forty minutes until the meeting with the lawyer, so there was time to grab a quick coffee and take a look around. It had been years since I’d last been to Woodsong Harbor, my grandmother’s coastal North Carolina town, and it looked like something out of a postcard.

Pastel buildings lined the streets, most of them shops or restaurants with lush flower boxes and windowpanes that shone like the sun. Trees bloomed overhead, their blossoms draping over the roads in a resplendent display of pink and white. The aroma of fresh flowers mixed with the scent of the roasted coffee and pastries that wafted from the open storefront doors.

It was early, but Main Street was awake. Based on the families strolling along the sidewalks and the bicycles zipping by, this was a walking town. There were several people seated at outdoor tables in front of a brunch spot, complete with heating lamps and a decorative overhang of white lights and climbing flowers. The guests were a mix of old and young, and most of them looked at the paper instead of their phones, which was nice to see. The food on the tables was a decadent mix of French toast and fancy omelets.

I kept driving until I found a cute little coffee shop. There was a parking spot right out front, and I did my best to park between a beat-up pickup truck and a silver Mercedes. It had been a while since I’d parallel parked, but I cranked my way into a spot without bumping anything, and pulled up as close to the truck as I could to avoid hitting the Mercedes on my way out.

The bells on the door of the coffee shop jangled as I walked in. The floor was a polished concrete and the walls a smooth gray brick. Metal tabletops stuck out from the walls, each decorated with a square vase of bright flowers that seemed to stretch up to the series of small lights that hung down from the ceiling like stars. It was a place to think and dream, and if I’d had the time, I could have spent hours sketching the ocean while seated at one of the window tables.

Others must have felt the same because the shop was crowded. Shelves on the walls were stacked with cellophane-wrapped bags of chocolate nonpareils, homemade caramels, and saltwater taffy. The price plaque attached to the shelf listed them at eleven dollars. I drew back, self-conscious to think that, even at thirty-eight years old, they were something I couldn’t afford.

“What can I get for you?” The teenage girl taking the coffee orders gave me a friendly smile. She had blonde hair and a bright smile.

The metal board behind the counter listed the drinks but not their prices. There was a sugar-free section with all sorts of delicious-sounding choices. Still, it seemed like a safer bet to keep it simple.

“Just a double latte,” I said.

“Eight dollars, please.”

“Actually, can I change that to a single latte?” I asked quickly.

“Sure. Six forty, please.”

Hiding a wince, I held out my credit card. It was about ten lattes from being declined. Thank goodness I didn’t plan to be in this town long, because it would be impossible to survive.

Sipping at the warm froth of the milk topped with a blend of cinnamon and nutmeg, I breathed in the peace of the morning from a table that afforded a view of the ocean. Classical piano music tinkled over the speaker and I wondered what would happen if I faked car trouble and tried to video chat into the reading of the will instead of showing up in person.

The lawyer had already vetoed that idea. I’d contacted him after receiving the letter and requested to call in, but he was adamant that I come in person. There had been other beneficiaries, such as my father, some friends, and local charities, but my grandmother had stipulated that Charlotte and I were to be together for the reading. I probably wouldn’t get more than a necklace, but the fact that my grandmother had included me was enough for me to make the trip.

I took another sip of the latte and its warmth comforted the chill in my heart. There was a family with young children that had caught my eye a few tables over. Two girls, and the smallest was dipping a straw into the froth of steamed milk with a big smile on her face. The two of them made me think of me and my sister, and what it would have been like if we’d been raised together. It also made me question where the time had gone.

I’d expected to be married with a family by this stage in my life. When I was in my early twenties, I’d been engaged. He was a great guy, but I’d been scared that it wouldn’t work and our family would end up broken. It was funny to think how different things could have been if I had been brave enough to take the risk.

One of the little girls caught me staring, and quickly I returned my attention to the view outside. The waves rolled in and out. My problems seemed small compared to the size of the ocean and I tried to focus on that.

The caffeine had just started to make me feel brave enough to head to the lawyer’s office when the door to the coffee shop burst open. An attractive man in a black T-shirt and jeans stormed in. He went up to the counter and said something to the barista, his dark eyes flashing. She put a reassuring hand on his arm.

“Does anyone own a white Ford SUV?” she called.

Quickly, I raised my hand. “Yes. I do.”

Did my car get hit? That wouldn’t work, time-wise. I’d have to find a ride to the lawyer’s office, because I couldn’t be late.

The man stormed over to my table. “Hi. I get it that you, like everyone else in this town, are here to kick back and enjoy your vacation.” His dark gaze swept over me. “You might also want to respect the idea that other people are trying to work.”

“You lost me,” I said.

“You’re blocking the hatch on my truck and I need to unload it.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You’re frustrated that you had to take five seconds out of your day to ask me to move my car back? When, really, you could probably move yours forward?”

The guy seemed so surprised that I’d stood up to him that he was at a loss for words. Most people probably catered to him because he was so attractive, but I didn’t find rudeness enticing. Quite the opposite.

“Sure.” I grabbed my keys. “I’d be happy to move out of your way.”

My latte was half-full. To ensure no one would swipe my table, I draped my sweater over the back of my chair and headed towards the door. The sun was too bright but I could see what the man was talking about, as I’d done a terrible job parking and was practically on top of his truck. Nevertheless, I felt a greater sense of dread about the Mercedes that was parked behind me, because I definitely didn’t want to hit it.

Somehow, I backed up without incident. The man came out and yanked open the hatch on his truck to unload piles of metal, the muscles in his arms straining with the effort. He moved it to a cart and wheeled it into the shop next door without so much as a thank you.

The window was etched with the word Blacksmith. Even though it was dim inside, I could make out several intricate metal sculptures that were impressive. Still, it wasn’t the type of shop where the work was so urgent that it required being rude.

When I went back into the coffee shop, the dark-haired woman who had been hard at work making espressos greeted me with a fresh latte in a to-go cup and a wax paper bag with a pastry inside.

“On behalf of our town,” she said, “I apologize for my brother. Logan’s been grumpy ever since his wife left him.”

“He probably just skipped his morning coffee,” I said, and she laughed.

“I’m Lauren.”

“Jayne.”

My sister had been given the pretty name. Charlotte. I’d never liked reading Charlotte’s Web when I was growing up.

“This coffee shop is lovely,” I said. “Thank you for making me feel welcome.”

Lauren had to own it. As a former business owner, I recognized her dedication. It said a lot that she’d given me a coffee and a pastry because someone in the shop had been rude.

“Thank you.” She shared a smile. “I’ve worked hard on it. I hope you’ll come back.”

The line had started to form again, so she gave a little wave and stepped back behind the counter. It wasn’t like I’d be back in this town again, so I decided to make an impression on Logan that maybe would stay with him. Gripping the cup of coffee and pastry bag, I stalked into the blacksmith shop.

The smell of the shop made me flinch. It reminded me of old pennies or nickels, a smell that seemed more intense coupled with the fire roaring in the grate at the back of the room. The metal pieces placed around the space were beautifully crafted; the larger sculptures could have made it into any gallery showing in the city.

Logan stepped out from the back room, wiping his hand across his sweating forehead. He was headed to the front door, maybe to grab another load. When he spotted me, he stopped.

“The shop’s not open yet.” His tone was still gruff, but less confrontational. “What do you need?”

Sleep, for one. I’d left my friend’s apartment at four o’clock in the morning to make the drive and I was tired. I also needed a plan, because there was a mess waiting for me back home. Most of all, I needed courage, because I did not want to walk into the lawyer’s office and face the feelings and memories I hadn’t dealt with in years.

What would this guy say if I told him all that?

Instead, I cleared my throat. “I need to remind you that everyone’s going through something. Kindness matters.” I set the coffee and pastry bag on a table. “Here. I hope your day gets better.”

He looked stunned as the door banged shut behind me. Somehow, I managed to pull out without hitting the Mercedes or the truck, even though my hands were shaking with nerves. I arrived at the lawyer’s office with minutes to spare.

Through the entry window, I saw the receptionist chatting with someone. It had been over twenty-five years, but I would have known her anywhere.

It was my sister.

My first impression was that Charlotte was shorter than she appeared on social media, but just as put together. Her dark hair was up in a sleek ponytail and she wore a crisp white linen sheath accessorized with a coral-and-turquoise necklace. I watched, gripping the steering wheel, as the receptionist nodded and led her down a hall.

The waiting room was quiet when I walked in. I pretended to look at the scenic portraits of old boats hanging up on the wall, but couldn’t focus on a thing. The receptionist returned and gave me a polite smile.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m here for an appointment with Martin Sommers,” I said, fidgeting with my bracelets.

The delicate silver bands had been gifted to me by my mother. She’d passed away five years ago of cancer, and I wore the bracelets on days I needed her by my side. I could only imagine what she would say about this situation. Most likely, that no heirloom was worth the price of heartache.

Ironic, considering the half-written letter I’d found in my mother’s favorite book. It had been pressed against the pages like a dried flower. Dear Jayne, There is a truth to be told but I am not brave enough to say it…

I’d wondered what it had meant, what she’d wanted to say. It was most likely something she’d written when she’d first found out she had cancer and wasn’t feeling brave enough to tell me. Still, the idea that there was an unfinished conversation between me and my mother had left me feeling unsettled.

“Follow me, please.”

The flare of the receptionist’s rose-colored jacket swished back and forth as I followed her down a long hallway decorated with beach scenes. My shoulders tensed each time we approached a door. The receptionist paused at the fourth one, which was open.

“You can go in,” she said, and Charlotte glanced my way.

The summer we spent together flashed through my mind like a movie reel. Making jewelry from seashells, sharing ice-cream, crying at goodbye… We’d exchanged heartfelt letters for a month after I’d left. Then she’d cut me off.

My heart wanted to demand Why? Instead, I managed a polite, “Hi.”

“Hello.” Charlotte gave a pert nod. “Good morning.”

Her voice. It was delicate, like a song, but so full of confidence.

I remembered being in awe of her the day we sat cross-legged in the sand and she explained her life plans. If being the president of the United States proved boring, she’d said, she wanted to be an astronaut. I’d decided then and there to do better in math, so that we could orbit the Earth together.

“I’m Martin Sommers,” the lawyer said, stepping forward. He was tall, and his thin lips gave him a stern appearance. “It’s nice to meet you. Shall we begin?”

The polished mahogany conference table was set with a tiny notepad, pen, bottle of water, and a small tin of peppermints in each seat.

I settled in, wiping my sweating palms on my pale blue dress. It felt strange to think my sister was close enough to smell her perfume. It was sweet like lilac and lemon.

Even though I didn’t know Charlotte at all, social media had kept me informed me of her life. She was a successful salesperson at a large finance firm and had married a ruddy-looking real estate investor who golfed at resorts across the country. She didn’t post pictures of her two teenaged sons, but often shared images of her palatial home in Cary, North Carolina, with its marble entryway, elaborate mantel arrangements, and iron gates. The doors were locked to me, and I’d often felt like an intruder looking at her page. Still, I wanted to know who she’d become. Social media might not be an honest interpretation, but it was better than nothing.

Leaning back into the soft leather of the chair, I started to doodle on the notepad. It took a few minutes for me to notice I was drawing the two girls at the coffee shop. I stopped, worried Charlotte might think I was drawing a memory of her.

The lawyer opened a leather folder. “I would like to begin by saying that I have worked with your grandmother for the last forty years. Your grandparents were my clients from the start of my career and the finest people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Your grandmother has made some unconventional requests; however, she was in excellent mental health when we drafted it.” Peering through reading glasses, he said, “She begins with a letter.”

Dear Charlotte and Jayne,

One of the greatest moments of my life was the summer that the two of you came to spend with me. Jayne, I adored getting to know your kind heart and beautiful spirit. It meant everything to me to see you and Charlotte bloom together like two beautiful flowers alongside the shore.

I am aware that there has been heartache and confusion over the past several years and that a relationship between the two of you may feel beyond repair. I do believe, Charlotte and Jayne, that if you spend some time fighting to get to know one another rather than fighting each other, you will have the ability to reclaim what was lost. I do think it would be possible to rebuild your relationship.

Life is complex, as are our beliefs, perceptions, and emotions. I understand that this might be too much, and if so, I understand. However, thank you for being here today. I will rest in peace knowing that I did everything in my power to bring the two of you back together.

With all of the love in my heart,

Your grandmother

It felt hard to breathe. It had been a nice idea to put me and Charlotte in the same room, but there was too much that had happened, too much left unsaid. That type of hurt couldn’t be erased in fifteen minutes, and Charlotte had made it pretty clear over the years that she didn’t want to try. I hoped my grandmother’s expectations hadn’t been high that this meeting would solve everything, because I could already tell we weren’t going to walk out of this office exchanging contact information.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Shall I continue?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows and gave a quick nod, as if the letter had been a strange interruption at a very public dinner.

“The bequeathment was drafted in her words,” he said, and began to read: “Charlotte and Jayne, our time together was the most magical summer of my life. Therefore, I would like to leave you the beach house in hopes that you can re-experience that magic once again.”

The words hung in the air like the crest of a wave. The idea stood, poised and picture-perfect, before it crashed into me in a burst of noise and confusion.

The beach house?

“I’m sorry.” Certain I had misunderstood, I said, “Could you repeat that?”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Of course.” He read the two lines verbatim, without an ounce of irony. My heart started pounding.

I’d assumed my grandmother had brought me here because she’d left me a piece of jewelry. Maybe a thousand dollars. But an entire house? The house at the beach?

Involuntarily, my gaze shifted to Charlotte. Her expression summed up my feelings.

The idea that I was about to be handed a property, that property, was a shock. I had loved my grandmother, but I hadn’t known her that well. I’d been afraid that it might hurt my mother if I developed too close of a relationship with her. Either way, I didn’t deserve an inheritance like this.

The lawyer continued to read: “Charlotte and Jayne, there are a few conditions. You might recall that your grandfather and I purchased this home in the seventies as a remodeling project. Changes in his job gave us less of an opportunity to devote ourselves to that pursuit. Even so, we couldn’t bear to let it go.”

Charlotte clicked her pen in a steady rhythm. One glance from me and she stopped.

“Therefore, I’ve decided that the two of you will have to live there together and finish the remodel for me.”

Charlotte set down her pen with a clatter. “Sorry?”

The lawyer gave us a rueful smile. “Yes. She was quite excited about this idea. The terms are clearly outlined in the following portion of the will, but do you have questions about what I’ve read so far?”

There was a fully bloomed tree out the window where bees hummed around the fragrant blossoms. Part of me wished to be out there with it, smelling the flowers. Even the threat of the bees seemed safer than confronting my feelings about this.

Charlotte opened her tin of mints. “I’d like to hear the terms.”

The lawyer slid his glasses back on and read: “My dear girls, you must work together to remodel the beach house. There is a bank account in place for this. I do request that you complete the rooms in the order that they are assigned in this document and finish in six months, beginning no later than one year from today.

“I will provide a stipend of two thousand dollars a month for personal expenses, and I ask that you remain in town for the duration. Ken and the boys are welcome to stay, Charlotte. However, you and Jayne are required to work on the house together. In addition,. . .