Charlotte gave a slow shake of her head. “Not me. Are you kidding? You break out into hives when I give you a present. You went through an entire packet of Benadryl last Christmas.”
Jane frowned. “You’re not playing me? This really isn’t from you?” She opened the box, separated the gift paper inside, and pulled out a sugar plum fairy ornament, dangling it from her finger. “You’re the only one who knows I once dressed up like a sugar plum fairy to go see The Nutcracker with my grandma.”
“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte breathed, admiring the dainty glass ornament. “But no. I’m not playing you. Where was it?”
“At my cubby in the Sierra North clinic.” She eyed Charlotte suspiciously, clearly still believing it had been her. “Who else knows my work schedule? No one.”
“Okay,” Charlotte said. “Let me stop you right there. When have you ever known me not to write a missive when sending a present?”
“True.” Jane’s shoulders slumped. “But if it wasn’t you, then who the hell left it?”
“I don’t know.” Charlotte moved closer and put a hand on her shoulder. “I think the real question is, if it had been me who gave it to you, why would it upset you so much?”
Jane sank to a chair. “I don’t know. Maybe because it feels like the past colliding with the here and now. The past hurts, and I don’t like thinking about it.”
Charlotte touched the pretty ornament. “This memory hurts you?”
Jane blew out a breath. “Okay, no. Not that one. It’s actually one of my favorite memories.”
“Then why don’t you hold on to that feeling whenever you look at it? Trust me, you can’t run away from your past forever.”
Jane snorted. “One breakfast with Dr. Hottie Patottie and all of a sudden you’re Dr. Phil.”
“Ha-ha.” Charlotte handed back the ornament. “Is it possible someone from your past left it for you? Like your grandpa?”
“I guess . . . but doubtful. He doesn’t know I’m here.” Jane turned the pretty ornament in the light. “It’s so fragile. I don’t know what to do with it. I’ll end up breaking it if I take it with me when I go.”
“Then leave it here, in your bedroom, for when you come back next season.”
“I don’t like taking up your space with my junk. Plus, you never know if you’re going to need the room for another renter while I’m gone.”
Charlotte’s first instinct was to sigh with annoyance, but instead she took in the anxiety on Jane’s face and ached for her. “There’s always going to be a room for you here. For you and your stuff, Jane.”
Jane stood up. “Don’t say that, because you never know what’s going to happen. Have you talked to Sandra? She wants to extend her stay.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking of buying bunk beds for the downstairs bedroom. Zoe said she wouldn’t mind sharing.”
“You don’t need to spend the money on a new bed,” Jane said. “Seriously. The easier solution is for me to head out early.”
Okay, Charlotte was done with this convo. Spinning on her heels, she opened her junk drawer, grabbed a Sharpie. Without another word, she headed down the hall.
She heard Jane mutter, “What the—” and smiled grimly to herself when she also heard footsteps following after her.
“What are you doing?” Jane asked.
Charlotte uncapped the Sharpie and wrote JANE in big letters across her bedroom door. “Does this make it clear?”