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“I hope so, and along those lines I have to ask you for a big favor. See, last night he lent me some Scotch tape, and one thing led to another.”
Now Hope fisted hands on her hips. “You’ve already slept with him, and you’re just getting around to telling me?”
“No. Almost, but no. But while we were deciding to wait a few days, I asked him if he had a date for New Year’s Eve. Mostly I wanted to know if he was seeing—okay, sleeping—with anybody else.”
“Reasonable.”
“I should’ve just asked him, but I caged around it, and he asked me if I had one, and I told him you and I were going to hang out.”
“Avery, if you want to go out with Owen on a major date night, I’m fine with it. Absolutely, one hundred percent. You should know that.”
“I do, just like you should know I’d hate myself if I ditched you. You wouldn’t do it to me.”
“I might if Owen asked me out.” Hope fluttered her eyelashes.
“Get your own Montgomery boy. There’s one left.”
“Maybe I could just borrow Owen. Test him out for you.”
“Aw, you’re such a good friend.” Miming wiping a tear aside, she gave Hope a hug. “No. Anyway, Owen popped up with this idea of having a party at his place, which is very un-Owenish as he can’t plan and plot it out for weeks, preferably months. So we’re all going to ring in the new at Owen’s.”
Thoughtful, Hope opened cupboards to check Avery’s kitchen organization. “Avery, I don’t have a date. I don’t want a date, but not having a date on New Year’s at a party is just embarrassing.”
“Not when you look like you do. Besides, not everybody’s going to be coupled. I could practically recite Owen’s most likely guest list, so I can guarantee other singles of both varieties. He throws a really good party when he throws one. You’ll meet more people,” Avery wheedled. “And that’s good community relations for an innkeeper.”
Hope turned the handle of a cup a fraction to the left. “Now you’re digging.”
“Yeah, but it’s still true. Clare and Beck are getting a sitter, I checked with her. And they can bring you home. Unless you get wild and crazy and hook up.”
“I won’t be wild and crazy, that’s a promise.” Hope blew out a breath. “But I probably shouldn’t decline an invitation from one of the bosses, at least this early on.”
“You’ll have fun. I promise.” Delighted, Avery threw her arms around Hope. “Thanks.”
With her arm still around Hope’s shoulders, she turned, scanned the living room. “It was really nice of Ryder to bring your tree over.”
“He griped about the decorations.”
“But he bagged it up, brought it over, set it up here.”
“Okay, it was nice of him, even though Justine probably told him to do it.”
“Either way, you’ve got your Christmas tree in your new apartment. It already looks like you in here. It looks like Hope. Are you happy?”
“I really am, and excited. I can’t wait to—”
They both jolted at the rattle of the doorknob, stared as the door opened.
“Oh, Jesus, Clare! Next time,” Avery suggested, “just shoot us both.”
“Sorry. Kids are asleep. Beckett handed me the key, and told me to get my butt up here for a couple hours. He knew how much I wanted to.” Looking around, she pulled off her gloves. “Oh, you’ve already done so much! It looks—”
“Like Hope,” Avery finished.
“Yes, it does. What can I do?”
“Kitchen’s mine.”
“I just finished in the bathroom,” Hope told her. “I guess I should move to the bedrooms.”
“Then . . .” Clare opened the door again, lifted the painting she’d left propped against the wall.
“My housewarming gift! Oh, I love it.”
“Madeline said you could change your mind,” Avery told her, “if it didn’t suit once you moved in. You can exchange it at Gifts for another painting, or whatever.”
“It’s exactly what I want. It’s gorgeous, and every day’s spring when I look at those cherry blossoms. Thank you. Both of you. I know just where I want it, in the bedroom so I can wake up to spring every morning.”
Taking the painting, Hope held it out at arm’s length. “I’m going to hang it right now.”
In the bedroom Clare made the graceful sleigh bed Hope had chosen, fluffed pillows, smoothed the duvet while Hope—meticulous as Owen—measured and marked and leveled.
“It’s perfect here. Exactly right,” Hope murmured.
“So are you. It feels like you’re perfect here. Exactly right here.”
“I want to be.”
“Kitchen’s done.” Avery came in, turned, smiled at the painting. “You were right about it. It says spring, even on a night like this. Welcome home, Hope.”
* * *
LATER, WHEN CLARE left and Avery dashed home for what she needed for the night, Hope took a solo walk through the building.
It did feel right, she thought. Like home.
As she climbed back to her apartment, she caught the drift of honeysuckle, sweet as summer.
“I’m here,” she said, “and I’ll be staying now. I guess neither of us has to be alone anymore.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Avery came downstairs to find the Montgomery family already on the job, and Hope in the kitchen making breakfast.
“We haven’t organized the kitchen yet,” Avery commented.
“I’m making do. I want to try out a few things, and this is a good chance.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“No.” To emphasize the point, Hope held up a finger. “No hand. You’re a guest. Go on into The Dining Room.”
“Is there coffee there?”
“There is. Avery? How was J&R?”
“Like a dream. Only missing the madwoman in the attic, which I guess would make it a nightmare anyway. Coffee first, then report.”
She walked through, helped herself at the copper coffee urn and considered. It might be the perfect time, she mused. Everyone was happy, excited. And a major project wrapped—beautifully wrapped. A few more days of work, sure, a few more details, but basically done.
Owen wandered in. “I heard you were the first guest.”
“I have that distinction.”
“But we’re all getting breakfast. Hope texted everybody this morning.” He sat across from her. “How was it?”
“Wonderful. Full report when you’re all in here. You’re in The Lounge?”
“Mom wants another little cabinet, for the front corner. Ry’s hanging a mirror, Beck’s putting some shelves in the closet in there. You look good,” he added.
She eyed him over her coffee. “Is that so?”
“That’s so. Rested, but revved. Are you working today?”
“Not until four. I’m closing.”
“Why are you up so early?”
“Habit. And I must’ve sensed somebody else was cooking.”
Carolee carried in a tray of thick waffles, filled the room with their scent as she put them in one of the chafing dishes. She sent her nephew and Avery a wink before she bustled out. Hope brought in a clear glass bowl of berries, a glass pitcher of juice.
“Hope, I could—”
Hope made a dismissive sound. “Guest,” she said and went out again.
“I really want to try out that stove top,” Avery muttered. “It’s so shiny.”
In came a platter of bacon, anothe
r of creamy scrambled eggs.
“We’ve been summoned.” Beckett strolled in, sniffed. “Smells like breakfast.” He lifted the lid of a chafing dish. “Looks like breakfast.” And snagged a slice of bacon. “Oh yeah. Tastes like breakfast. Hey, waffles.”
“Waffles?” Ryder came in, headed straight for the chafing dish. “Those fat, round ones, too.”
“Help yourselves.” Hope nudged Justine into the room. “If you want anything, please ask. And honest feedback, please. It’s better to know if something’s not working now than to find out after we open.”
She stood back, waited as plates were filled, seats taken.
Ryder took the first syrup-loaded bite of waffle. “You’re not fired,” he told her.
“High praise.”
“It’s wonderful, Hope.” Justine scooped up a little egg. “And the tables look cheerful, just as we wanted. Sit down.”
“I still have a few things to see to, but I’d really like to hear what Avery thought about her night in J&R.”
“Like I’d won a grand prize. The grand prize,” she corrected. “I’m really clean because I tried out the tub last night, and the shower this morning. Both are incredible. And the amenities are just delicious.” She held out an arm to Owen. “Smell me.”
He did. “Nice.”
“Yeah, it is. The towels are soft and thick—and God, let me say the heated
