Chapter 3: Returning To The Coast

Leaving London behind didn’t mean leaving its influence. Eleanor carried it with her…the glow of city lights, the weight of history, the quiet realization that change had already begun. As the plane descended, she found herself caught between two worlds: the one she had always known and the one that had yet to unfold.

The plane touched down under a sky streaked with soft blues and grays. Their home was perched along the edge of Seabrook coast… a rugged stretch where the sea met the land in a way that had always felt like theirs. The waves rolled in steady and endless, the scent of salt filling the air.

As they drove home from the airport, Eleanor rested her hand on the handle of her new luggage, the smooth leather cool beneath her fingers. It was more than just a suitcase… it held pieces of a journey that had become more than a holiday. Nestled inside was the Fortnum and Mason hamper, she had carefully selected, its history tied to the grand tradition of travel, adventure, and hidden treasures. And it reminded her of something… or rather, someone.

Claude Sherwood. The grandfather she had never known. A name that had been little more than a ghost in family conversations, mentioned only in passing, as if he belonged to a world long forgotten. The only thing she had ever been told was that he had been a renowned hunter, a man who once traveled on grand expeditions… tracking game in distant lands, disappearing into the wild for months at a time. But beyond that, nothing. No stories, no photographs, no trace of who he truly was.

The thought lingered as she lifted her wrist to breathe in the lingering scent of Reiné de Saba, the luxurious perfume she had purchased in London. Queen of Sheba. A woman of legend and intrigue, her story woven through history in whispers and half truths. Much like Claude Sherwood, his presence in her family story had always been a mystery, a locked door she had never dared to open.

As they passed familiar landmarks along the winding road home, Eleanor felt the weight of something shifting inside her. She had always loved this place… the ocean stretching toward the horizon, the little roadside Café where they had stopped for coffee so many times before. But tonight, she only glanced at it through the window, her thoughts elsewhere.

Stepping inside their house again, she felt the familiar comfort of home… The wooden floors, the soft glow of lamplight, the windows framing the ever- changing ocean. But as she unzipped her suitcase, setting the Fortnum & Mason hamper on the kitchen counter and placing the perfume bottle on her dresser, she felt something else, too. A pull toward the unknown. That night, she and Thomas sat at the kitchen table, their coffee mugs warm in their hands. The house was quiet, except for the distant sound of waves.

“I love it here,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her cup.

Tom watched her, waiting.

She met his eyes.”But I think I’m ready for something else.”

He nodded a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. “I thought you might be.”

That night, as Eleanor lay in bed, the scent of Reine de Saba, lingering in the air, she traced the delicate patterns on the duvet with absent fingers. The ocean roared beyond the windows, steady and unchanging, but inside her, a quiet shift had begun.

The thought of leaving had always felt distant, like a story she might tell herself one day but never truly live. Yet now, the idea had weight. It settled beside her, as well as the memories held within these walls.

She turned onto her side, watching the moonlight stretch across the floor. Across the room, her suitcase still sat unopened, as if waiting for a decision. A question lingered in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

How do you say goodbye to a place that has been part of you?

And more importantly… how do you know when it’s time?