An hour later, with a small, gift-wrapped package in hand, Hailey opened the door of the main house herself for the first time since she’d been there. Normally, Michael magically appeared to welcome her. His absence was unsettling. Before stepping into the house, she glanced back at the guesthouse. Mrs. Tillsbury’s car was still parked in front, which meant Skye was occupied with her lessons. Hailey checked her phone. No message. If something was wrong, someone would have texted her. She took a few deep breaths.
I refuse to panic every time something is out of the ordinary. Things haven’t been easy this year, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get better. One foot in front of the other. One positive action followed by another. That’s how you survive. Right, Ryan? Hailey closed the door behind her with a shaking hand. And things turn around.
I just need to believe they can.
The sound of someone racing toward her brought Hailey to full alert again. Michael came to a stop beside her, looking flustered. “Mrs. Westerly means well.”
“Means well?”
Before Michael had a chance to answer, Mrs. Westerly’s voice carried from the library into the foyer. “Your Latin is rudimentary. Your Spanish is not much better, and dare I say your English could use a good polishing as well. Tell me you at least play an instrument. How do you expect to cultivate a love of learning in Skye when you yourself are ignorant? By the look on your face, I’ve insulted you. Feel free to refute my assessment, but do try to express yourself with some degree of refinement.”
Oh no. No. No. No.
“Or stomp away. Go on, then. That’s all the evidence I require that you are ill qualified.”
Mrs. Tillsbury burst out of the library, showing relief when she spotted Hailey. “Thank God you’re here.” She came to a skidding stop next to Michael. “I should have asked you if it was okay to bring Skye to the main house, but she seemed excited by the invitation. Your employer, however, is nasty. I have never been so insulted in my life. If I were you, I would keep your niece as far away from that—that horrible woman as you can.”
The sense of mortification Hailey had felt when she’d heard how Mrs. Westerly was speaking to the tutor quickly gave way to defensive anger. “Your concern for Skye’s welfare is painfully obvious given your departure without her.”
Michael coughed back what sounded like a laugh.
“I was coming out here to call you,” the woman said in a huff, then waved her hand around aggressively. “You know, I agreed to drive the extra distance because I felt sorry for your niece, but she needs more help than I can give her.”
“That is obvious as well,” Hailey said tightly. “We won’t be requiring your services after today.”
“Trust me, I had no intention of returning,” the woman said in an unpleasant tone, and walked out.
Michael stayed beside Hailey rather than rushing over to open the door for her. As soon as Mrs. Tillsbury was out the door, Hailey took a step toward the library.
“Wait,” Michael said.
Hailey did only because she needed a moment to choose her words. Without turning toward Michael, Hailey asked, “What was she thinking?” Hailey shook her head. “Mrs. Tillsbury wasn’t perfect, but Skye was making progress. She liked her. It’s not just about finding a replacement. If the loss of Mrs. Tillsbury sets Skye back . . .” Hailey blinked back tears and raised her chin. “I don’t know what will happen.”
“Mrs. Westerly only gets involved when she cares.”
Whipping her head around to meet Michael’s gaze, Hailey said, “I understand that, but we have to be careful. It’s about what’s best for Skye. How do I make her see that? God, what if I can’t make this work?”
Michael walked with her to the door of the library, but stopped her just before they stepped inside. In a low voice, he said, “Don’t rush to any decisions. Give her a chance.”
Hailey shook her head, but Mrs. Westerly was speaking again, and she listened without moving.
“My mother believed that every lady should know at least two languages besides English,” Mrs. Westerly said. “I learned French and Spanish. Which would you want to learn, Skye? I’d love to hear you try French. There’s no better excuse to spend a month at my home in Marseille than saying you need to work on your accent. We’d include a trip to Paris and la tour Eiffel. I haven’t been there since I lost Oliver. It would be good to see it again.” There was a pause and then Mrs. Westerly added, “Of course, you can’t have any accent unless you speak. Try this: Je parle fran?ais. ‘I speak French.’ Come on, we’ll make it fun. I’ll ask you what you speak and you answer ‘Je parle fran?ais.’ Just like that. Ready? Even better, I’ll ask you in French. It’ll be just like we’re having our first conversation but in a whole new language. Quelle langue parlez-vous? Now you answer, ‘Je parle fran?ais.’”
Oh, Mrs. Westerly. Hailey remembered trying to bribe Skye to speak in the beginning. If only it were that easy.
“Je parle Fran?ais,” Skye said in a soft voice, so soft that Hailey was sure she had imagined it. She reached out and gripped Michael’s arm to steady herself.
“Très bien,” Mrs. Westerly said as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. Hopeful tears filled Hailey’s eyes. “Now again, but louder. Imagine we are readying ourselves for a day of shopping in Provence, and we had to procure a driver we’ve never met before. He doesn’t know if we speak French, English, Danish. So he asks, ‘Quelle langue parlez-vous?’ What would you say?”
“Je parle Fran?ais,” Skye said confidently.
Hailey met Michael’s eyes and fought the prickling of tears. Mrs. Westerly was doing what no one had yet succeeded at.
“Excellent!” Mrs. Westerly exclaimed. “I just had the most amazing idea. What if I teach you French, and you teach your aunt? Imagine how proud she would be of you. Then we could all have a wonderful holiday together. Yes? Perfect.” Her tone turned serious. “I don’t believe Mrs. Tillsbury is coming back. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, but has her departure upset you? If you want me to apologize to her, I will. Personally, I think you could do much better, but tell me if you would like me to say something to her. I will. For you.”
Practically holding her breath so she wouldn’t miss a word, Hailey listened for Skye’s response. Either she didn’t answer or did so quietly that Hailey missed it.
“So you won’t miss her? Good.” Mrs. Westerly continued, “Your aunt will probably be very upset with me when she hears what I’ve done, but I didn’t like the tone your teacher used with you. You are a very smart child who doesn’t need to be spoken down to. Still, I did promise I wouldn’t get involved. Don’t think you can behave as I do until you are at least seventy-five. I was quite well behaved until then. Mostly. I do need your help, though. What could you say that would make your aunt less cross with me?”
“Je parle fran?ais?” Skye asked.
Hailey peered into the room and was surprised to see Mrs. Westerly smiling. She didn’t appear stern at all in that moment as Skye looked up at her with adoration.
“What if she doesn’t speak French? There has to be something you could say that would instantly put her in a good mood so we could all enjoy dinner together.”