“That sounds great. Thank you.”
Val’s husband, Micah, walks into the kitchen carrying his favorite mug, a large blue Yellowstone National Park mug, no doubt filled with black coffee. No one could accuse Micah of having a sweet tooth. He’s a lawyer and he’s handling the insurance and some other little details to do with the fire. Could I do it myself? Absolutely. But I’d thrown my arms around my brother-in-law when he’d offered. If there’s anyone I can trust, it’s Micah.
He and his relationship with Val make me feel … jealous isn’t the word. It’s more like a feeling of missing out. They’re an amazing team and I want that. Someone to love and trust. Someone who will have my back, like I’d have his. I think a new goal for the time the restaurant is closed is to find a kind, local man to love. Both those qualifiers are a must. He needs to be kind, and he needs to live here. Or maybe one town over would be okay.
Also, dark hair wouldn’t hurt.
“Mornin’ Ivy. Good to see you up and around.” Micah smiles as he takes his seat at the table.
“Alright. It’s not that crazy that I’m up.”
Val and Micah give me nearly identical looks of dissent.
“It’s not.” I make myself a water and turn to find Juniper and her younger brother, Peter, sitting at the table.
“I almost forgot you lived here,” Peter says, eyeing Ivy over his orange juice. Juniper snickers.
Oh, good grief. “I ate dinner with you guyslast night.”
“Yeah, but you did that sometimes before. Breakfast is for people who live here,” Juniper says with a smirk.
“I’ll try to make it down for breakfast from now on so nobody forgets about me.”
“Go, Pete! Go!”
Peter is a fast swimmer for a seven-year-old. He’s in lane four and is only inches behind the winner as they approach the wall.
“You know he can’t hear you, right?” Juniper asks from her spot on my right.
“You’re being awfully sassy to me today. Everyone here is yelling.” I watch as Peter narrowly misses out on the win, then jump down from my place on the bleachers to go congratulate him.
“Parents need to wait at the bleachers.” A middle-aged man holds up his hand toward me.
“Good thing I’m not his parent. Spinster aunt here.” I attempt to win him over with humor, then try to walk around him. I have nothing to lose.
“Spinster aunts need to wait too. It’s for the safety of our swimmers. We’ve had too many people by the pool before, resulting in people being pushed in.”
“Fine.” I’m not unreasonable. I turn back to find my family laughing at me. Gee thanks, guys. I didn’t know the rules.
“Anizey! Did you see how fast I was going? I almost won!” Peter’s a bundle of energy as he runs up to me. I lean down to hug him, immediately regretting it as water soaks through my white shirt. Perfect.
“I sure did, Buddy! You were amazing. I bet you’ll go even faster next race.” I put my arm around his shoulders as we walkto the bleachers. What’s a little more water?
“I know, but I won’t be here for the next race,” Peter pouts.
“Yes, but we will be in England! Maybe while we’re there, we can watch some videos of Michael Phelps in the London Olympics. That would be cool, huh?”
Peter looks at me, confused. “Who’s Michael Phelps?”
3
Alexander
“Idon’thavetimeto go to England,” I say, knowing full well that I do have time. I finished the publicity circuit forThe Mark of Everlore, it premiered, and now I’m taking a break. I don’t necessarily feel like I need a break, but they say it’s healthy to take them. I plan to visit my Napa vacation house and lounge around, not go home to England to deal with my aunt’s solicitor, Mr. Crawley.
“Her will is very clear. If you want your grandfather’s box, you have to come and follow the stipulations she set forth in her letter to you.”
“What’s in this box?” I sit in my usual chair facing my large living room windows.
