Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 518

Theodore Whitman hadn't slept a wink, terrified of missing the 'signal' from Emma's aunt and Larson. It had even been his idea to switch the aromatherapy in Emma's room to gardenia.

Finally, it was working.

Now for step two: get Emma out of the room during the day. The goal was to tire her out so she would sleep soundly at night.

Originally, the plan was to have her dance, but Larson had vetoed it, afraid it would dredge up unpleasant memories for Emma.

So, it was Grandma's turn to step in.

Grandma appeared at the doorway for a moment, a hesitant look on her face, before quickly hiding again.

"Grandma? Is something wrong?" Larson asked, then turned to Emma. "I'll go see what's up."

Emma nodded.

When Larson returned from his chat outside, Emma asked, "What's wrong with Grandma?"

"Oh," Larson said, "she was asking me how to write a formal apology note."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Why does Grandma need to apologize? And to whom?"

"Well," Larson explained, "today was supposed to be her regular get-together with a few local families. She's not going now, so she wants to send over a dessert with a note."

"Why isn't she going?" Emma asked, concerned. She wanted nothing more than for her grandmother to make friends and be happy in a new country.

Larson fell silent.

Emma immediately understood. It was because of her.

The morning was spent at the market. Even with Allen and the others there to help, she still had to do all the walking. They bought so many different things that they ended up circling the entire market several times.

Grandma even apologized. "Emmie, are you getting tired? Our group takes turns doing the shopping, and this time it was our family's turn."

"Not at all!" Emma said quickly. "I'm not tired in the slightest, Grandma."

At the time, she meant it. But that afternoon, as they cooked for a group of twenty, baking fresh pizzas, breads, and cakes, the stand mixers weren't enough. Emma kneaded dough until her arms ached.

That evening, Emma—who had claimed she wasn't hungry after a coffee in the morning and a juice at lunch—devoured a large steak, half a pizza, and a sampling of various other dishes.

It was eight o'clock by the time they got home. Emma took a quick shower and collapsed into bed, falling asleep instantly. She was too tired to even notice if someone was staying in the room with her.

That night, she once again vaguely heard the sound of someone blowing on a leaf, mingling with the faint scent of gardenias, and she slept soundly until morning.