“At Old Home Day.”
Gwen leaned back in her chair, trying to make sense of it. “I knew something had happened, of course, but we—Case and I—assumed you’d gotten in a fight.”
“We got in a fight to hide the fact we wanted to kiss each other.”
Gwen took a long sip of her coffee, giving herself a moment to think so she didn’t say anything careless. As amused as Evie had been earlier, she looked anything but that now. And for good reason. She’d almost kissed her ex-husband, who was now her mother’s business partner.
“You guys always had that kind of chemistry,” Gwen said. “It makes sense that you still do, but now you know that chemistry isn’t enough and that you two don’t work on any other level.”
“I know.” Evie shook her head and then her face cleared as if she’d literally driven thoughts of kissing Lane out of her mind with the motion. “The electrician called Mom this morning and said he’s feeling better and would be here today. And before we stopped speaking to each other, Lane said the bar top is ready and he’s going to get it this afternoon.”
“Today’s my day to research prices and figure out if it makes more sense for us to drive to the city and buy food for the menu at one of the stores there or have it shipped.” Not a super fun task for somebody who’d gotten as little sleep as she had. “I think it’s going to tip in favor of us doing the shopping because we don’t have enough refrigeration space to order in bulk.”
“Them.”
Gwen frowned. “What?”
“You said it would tip in favor ofusdoing the shopping, but it will be Mom and Mallory because we won’t be here.”
“Of course.” She knew that. It wasn’t as if she’d forgotten she wanted Stonefield in her rearview mirror, but until she left, they were a team. But she could see the urge to get out of town in her sister’s eyes and knew Evie was itching to put a lot of miles between her and whatever was going on with Lane. “Whatever we set up has to be sustainable for Mom and Mal—and Lane, I might add, because he can do more than brew the beer—without us. Or Case, though he’s always going to be willing to help.”
He was just that kind of guy. He had a good heart, and Gwen cringed when she thought of how he’d tried to hide his reaction to her words this morning. He said he understood, but she knew her urgent need to hide their relationship from her family had hurt him.
Maybe it was for the best. There was a possibility that they’d gotten each other out of their systems last night, and now a little distance would bring their fling to a natural and relatively painless end. It wasn’t aprobability, but it was possible. She wasn’t sure when it was going to happen, but her leaving Stonefield was inevitable. If some awkwardness between them now saved harder feelings later, she should let it be.
But when she went upstairs to get her laptop and the list of ingredients she was going to research, she couldn’t help looking out her window, into the bedroom where she’d spent the night. Maybe losing sleep because she’d been in his bed was good for the muse, she admitted to herself, because the idea she’d gotten Case out of her system was the best piece of fiction she’d come up with in a long time.
Chapter Twelve
Mrs. Monroe has asked us to let our readers know that, as much as she appreciates everybody’s concern for her cat Lemon, to please stop assuming Lemon is a stray and “rescuing” her. Lemon is adventurous and likes to visit people around the neighborhood, and Mrs. Monroe has had to retrieve her from the shelter numerous times this month. We’re sharing a photo of Lemon, so if you see her, please assume she’s just out being social.
—Stonefield GazetteFacebook Page
Gwen closed her laptop with a satisfied sigh that seemed to come from deep in her soul. The wheels had finally started turning in her head, which got the words flowing. Not only was it a relief on a professional level, but it was good to have a creative outlet to distract her from the fact it had been two and a half weeks since she’d woken up in Case’s bed and she’d barely seen him since.
Between the tree service, working on the renovations, and Lane chasing permits and inspections, the guys were exhausted. Other than a Fourth of July cookout, they were so busy and so tired, they weren’t even taking Ellen up on her open invitation to join them for meals.
Gwen missed Case, even though she’d had plenty to keep her busy. While the men worked with the contractors to help keep the costs down, the women researched suppliers and argued about glassware. They went over the regulations for the food and safety certificates until Gwen was sure she could recite them from memory. And when she could, she wrote.
For the past three days she’d done the bare minimum the brewery needed in favor of writing, and she was so close to finishing the book now, she wanted to lock her door and not leave her room until it was done.
But a girl needed to eat. She also needed to stretch out the kinks in her muscles because the old rocking chair might be beloved, but it wasn’t exactly ergonomic.
She was almost to the stairs when she heard a sniffling sound from the master bedroom and saw that the light was on. Her mom should have been at the thrift store, so the concern something was wrong drew Gwen to the door.
But it wasn’t Ellen. As she stepped into the room, Gwen saw Evie standing still with tears running down her cheeks as she stared at the fist-sized whelk shell her sister had found on a vacation to Cape Cod when they were kids. Rather than going on a shelf in Evie’s room, it had sat on their father’s dresser all these years.
“I remember that trip,” Gwen said quietly. “It was the summer before you started first grade. We found so many shells that they were everywhere in the car and right after we got back, a heat wave started and the car started to smell so bad, Mom refused to drive it until every shell was found.”
That made Evie smile. “Dad paid us a dime each for every shell we found. I cried because you got more dimes than me, so Mal gave me some of hers.”
That sounded like Mallory. “But that shell rode home in the glove box, wrapped in paper towels so it wouldn’t break.”
“He told me it had to stay in here and only he could pick it up because it’s so fragile and he knew I’d be sad if it broke, but really it was because he made the ocean sounds, so if he wasn’t with me, I wouldn’t hear the ocean.”
“When did you figure out it was him?”
Evie smiled. “I always knew it was him, from the very first time. It made him happy, so I pretended to believe him.”
