Chapter 90 Carrying On

Eden's POV:

Standing in the doorway of my childhood bedroom, I stare at the latest Clancy house. I have to admit it does look pretty impressive. To look at it from here, you wouldn't know that I did it instead of my dad. But that doesn't mean much; everything looks better at a distance.

"Oh, you're here again?" Grandma asks, coming to stand next to me.

"Yeah..."

"I thought you'd finished the house?"

"Yeah, just double checking it," I tell her, not taking my eyes off the house.

"It looks good to me," she says dismissively. She doesn't understand the pressure I feel.

"Are you sure about this?"

"About what dear?"

"The memorial service."

"I don't really know what there is not to be sure about."

Of course, she doesn't. She doesn't understand at all. It's not her that has been lying to everyone... What will
Noah think when he sees me on that stage next to grandma? He's going to be so angry.

"Well... what about the fact that no one knows I'm your granddaughter?"

"I don't think that matters," she says with a shrug. "When they find out, they'll understand."

No they won't. They'll feel betrayed. And they'll treat me different. They'll feel obliged to be more respectful. The tentative friendships I've been building will all be lost. Not to mention... Noah is going to be livid.

"What about Noah?" I ask.

"Well, maybe you should just tell him the truth."

"How?"

"What do you mean 'how'? Open your mouth and say it."

That's one of my grandma's least likable traits, she always underestimates complications. In her mind things are really simple. It's part of the reason why she's so successful. She doesn't hesitate because of a lack of confidence or god forbid fear. She just steamrolls ahead with a steadfast determination to be applauded but I'm not like that.

I look at the house again.

It's another example of our differences. I wanted to finish the house for my dad. I knew I probably wouldn't make a particularly good job of it, but at least I could say I gave it my all. But grandma looked at the house and saw an opportunity. I'm not saying she's trying to make money out of it or anything. I know that the opportunity she sees is to honour my dad too. We're both doing the same thing in our own way.

But she didn't pause to consider that I might not want to make a big fuss of the house. Or that it might be too personal for me. She's not at all phased about throwing me on a stage in front of her whole company and the press. Something I'd really like to avoid.

"Grandma, I really don't want to do the memorial."

"What are you talking about? You don't have to do anything except stand there and look pretty."

Stand there and look pretty? Is she joking? Shaking my head, I tell myself to keep my cool. I certainly don't want to blow up at my grandma. One. Two. Three. I begin to count so that I can focus on something else, instead of getting angry.

"I really don't understand why you're so against the idea," Grandma is muttering beside me. "I think it's the perfect way to honour your parents."

"Of course you do," I say with a sigh.

"What does that mean?" she bristles.

"Just that you're perfectly comfortable in the spotlight," I tell her. "I just want to put some flowers on their grave."

"Well, you can still do that," she says belligerently.

"That's not really the point, is it?"

"Then what is, dear? Because I feel like we're going round in circles."

"It's just too much. It's a massive, extravagant, unnecessary..."

"Well..."

"You didn't even stop to think that I might not want this house sold."

"Well, this house won't be sold. Only the replicas will be sold."

"And perhaps I didn't want that..."

"I don't know why not. You've done a brilliant job."

"I'M NOT MY DAD!" I shout angrily at her, before storming back down the stairs, grabbing my coat from the cloakroom.

"Where are you going?" she asks from the top of the stairs.

"Home!" I tell her angrily.

"This is your home."

"Not anymore," I say coolly, not caring if my words hurt her.

"Eden, wait," she tells me sternly, coming down the stairs.

"Why?"

"Because it's raining out," she says. "You should take your car."

"No, thank you."

I ignore the car keys she's holding out for me. How would I be able to explain that one to Noah?

"Eden..."

"What?" I demand irritably.

"I could drive you back."

"Don't bother. I can get the train."

"Or Martin could..."

"No. I'm fine."

"Eden, please."

"Please what?"

"Don't leave angry," she says softly, her eyes beseeching me to calm down. "Please."

"I don't want to share it," I tell her, my voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to have to talk about it, compare it to dad's... That's not why I did it."

"I know that," she says, stepping towards me, her arms outstretched.

"Then why..."

"Because unlike you I can't make him a house," she says and there are tears in her eyes. "I don't have that shared memory.... What I have is a business that he loved just as much as I do."

She pauses to wipe her eyes. "I can't make him a house but I can try to make Clancy's Comforts into the sort of company he wanted it to be. You won't remember but your dad... he was really dedicated to Clancy's. He really loved those employees. The profits made from the doll's houses were put into a special fund to support employees in need."

She's crying now, tears flowing down her face.

"Your dad did that and I thought the best way to honour him would be to continue that legacy."

I pull my grandma into my arms, both of us sobbing buckets.

"I should have explained better," she whispers.

"No. I'm sorry. I should have told you how I felt instead of going all teen angst on you."

Grandma giggles slightly. "I'm used to it, darling. You were hellish at thirteen."

"Thanks," I mumble, even though I'm smiling now.

"You really should tell Noah and maybe the others in your department though," she tells me.

"I don't know how and if you tell me just to say it..." I begin to threaten.

"It's never easy to admit that you've done something wrong, but you can only avoid it so long."

Grandma drives me home and the whole way there I try to think up a way to tell Noah without coming off like a big fat liar. But no matter what I think of, I can't see him taking it well.