“He was surprisingly good at it.”
“He really was.” And then, as Gwen watched, Evie’s face crumpled and more tears spilled over onto her sister’s cheeks as she put the shell to her ear and spoke in a broken whisper. “It’s just silent now.”
She hated when Evie cried. Her little sister had been born a sunny bundle of happiness and so rarely got upset that her tears felt extra wrenching to Gwen somehow. Moving to Evie’s right side, she bent slightly so her face was closer to the shell and started making ocean sounds. She was going for waves crashing on the shore, but it sounded a little more like she was fishing for stations on an old AM radio.
Evie made a sound that was like a hiccup and a sob combined, and then she started giggling. Gwen did her best to maintain the bad ocean sound, but it wasn’t long before they were both giggling. And she was relieved to see that, when Evie wiped tears away, they were tears of laughter and not sorrow.
“I guess being able to mimic waves isn’t one of those hereditary skills, like curling your tongue,” Gwen said when she could breathe again. Evie immediately stuck out her tongue, curling up the sides until her tongue made a perfect tube, and then she grinned triumphantly. “Show off. I swear, I didn’t inherit any of the fun stuff.”
“You inherited Dad’s habit of making up stories,” her sister said. “And then, unlike Dad, you made a career out of it. Nobody pays me to roll my tongue.”
“There’s probably somebody on the internet who would pay to watch you do that,” Gwen pointed out, and Evie laughed again before gently putting the shell back in its spot on Dad’s dresser.
Gwen held her breath as her sister ran a finger over the curve of the shell, but when Evie turned back to her, she was smiling. The tears had passed. And as their gazes met, her sister shook her head. “You really are the worst at ocean sounds. But I love you, anyway.”
“I love you, too, even though you have a weird tongue.” And then Evie stepped forward and Gwen wrapped her arms around her. It felt good to hug her sister, and they stood together in their parents’ bedroom until she felt the tension ease from not only Evie’s body but her own.
“You’re still in your pajamas,” Evie pointed out as she released her.
“One of the perks of my job.” She followed her sister out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. “I’m just getting a quick snack and taking it back to my room before I forget what I was going to write next.”
“Food in your bedroom?” Evie gave an exaggerated gasp and clutched her chest.
“Don’t tell Mom,” Gwen called as she grabbed a bag of chips and a bottle of water and fled the kitchen.
“I’m going to need a spreadsheet to keep track of the secrets I’m keeping for you,” Evie shouted after her.
Once back in her room, Gwen set the bag on the table and settled herself back in the rocker with her laptop without letting herself go to her window. It would be pointless anyway, since Case was at work, but mostly she was doing her best not to let thoughts of him creep into her head, where they could drown out how she was going to wrap up a plot thread still dangling in her manuscript.
Still, she itched to call him. Or send him a text message. They’d barely had any time to talk since she’d done her walk of shame across the street, and she missed him. And that was why she didn’t let herself pick up her phone. Realizing she missed him when it was simply being busy that kept them from having time alone made her realize she wasreallygoing to miss him when she went home to Vermont.
That scared her. Her longtime crush and succumbing to the chemistry sizzling between them was one thing. Those feelings weren’t supposed to become anything more, but missing him was a feeling. And thinking about how hard it would be to leave him wasdefinitelya feeling.
Because it was easier to worry about dangling plot threads than obsess about whether sleeping with Case had been a huge mistake, Gwen opened her laptop and started typing.
“I can’t believe how much you guys have gotten done.”
Ellen’s voice echoed through the taproom, surprising Case and almost causing him to smash his thumb with the hammer he’d been swinging for two hours. He’d known the electrician since middle school and they’d managed to knock a little off the estimate by offering up Case to do menial tasks—like nailing in the staples that neatened and secured all the wiring run through the walls. He could definitely use a break, he thought as he set the hammer down and moved his arm to stretch the muscles.
Much to his disappointment, Ellen hadn’t brought Gwen with her, but she had brought lemonade, which he accepted with gratitude. “We’re getting there.”
“Is Lane still downstairs?” she asked, setting the other lemonade on the edge of the bar, which was still covered in paper and plastic to protect it.
“Funny how that beer has to be babysat when there’s manual labor to be done,” he teased, and then he immediately regretted it when her expression changed. “That was just a joke, Ellen. I give him a hard time, but I’m just teasing.”
Her relief was evident, but there was still some tension around her eyes and mouth. “I know we’ve asked a lot of you, Case. But I’d rather lose the house and the thrift shop than have this come between you two boys.”
“The thrift shop?”
“David took out loans against both properties,” she said. “I thought you knew that.”
He hadn’t. He wasn’t sure Lane did, either. No wonder she looked exhausted. She really could lose everything.
Since she looked like a woman who could use a hug, he set his lemonade down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I promise it won’t come between us. Lane and I are okay, and that’s not going to change. And you’re keeping your thrift shop and absolutely not losing this house. Boomer and I don’t want new neighbors.”
After giving him a tight squeeze and releasing him, Ellen smiled and looked around the open space. Case hadn’t been lying. Theyweregetting somewhere, and it was starting to look like a real taproom.
“When do the lights go up?”
