The rhinestones on Gram’s sweatshirt flashed as she waved a hand in the air. “Whitaker’s got more grease on him than the fry basket at Holloway’s. Man couldn’t tell a Douglas fir from a Noble if we bashed him in the head with them.” Her eyes shifted to me. “Maybe we should.”
Jude snorted into his coffee.
But Gram wasn’t done. She wagged her finger at Dad, then turned back to me with the pivot of someone who had never once lost the thread. “Aggie and I were talking last night—don’t roll your eyes, Levi, you know I’m right—we said if Whitaker thinks he’s going to shove people out of Riverside Pines, he’s got another thing coming. Aggie’s already organizing half the knitting circle to go to the next town meeting. You try moving those ladies and see what happens.”
Mom sighed fondly as she set a plate of lasagna in front of me.
“Heaven help anyone who crosses Aggie,” she said. “Or you.”
“Damn straight,” Gram huffed. Then, without pausing for breath: “But back to the topic at hand. Becca is single. What are you going to do about it?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. I glanced at Mom, hoping for a rescue, but she just pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. Jude’s grin widened. Dad raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Gram,” I said carefully. “It’s not that simple. Becca’s got her own life, and I don’t think she’s looking for anyone to wade into it.”
My voice came out weaker than I’d hoped. Gram studied my face with the expression of someone who had been reading Barretts for eighty-odd years and found me entirely transparent.
“Well, whatever,” she said, in the tone that meant she had already decided. “Stop thinking and just listen. Your mama made way too much lasagna. Take some to Aggie and Becca and tell Aggie I’ll see her at the next knit night—I can’t make it to this one. Boom. There you go.” She sat back. “We’ll have coffee tomorrow morning and figure out what to do next.”
“What?”
She pointed one rhinestone-adjacent finger at me. “No thinking. Just listening. Chill out and do what I say. You’ll be with Becca before you know what hit you. Meant to be, the two of you. I’ve always said it.”
Jude leaned back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. “Yeah, chill out and listen to Gram, Levi.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled and picked up my mug.
But I didn’t chill out. I didn’t stop thinking. And I definitely didn’t listen in the way Gram meant. Because the second she mentioned Aggie and Becca, something tightened in my chest.Lasagna. Groceries. An excuse to see her wrapped in aluminum foil.
I knew what this was. We all knew what this was. My father definitely knew what this was, judging by the expression on his face as he shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth.
“You’re smiling,” I accused him.
“I’m eating,” he said innocently. “Also smiling. Your grandma is the one attempting to meddle. Your mother is almost ready to wade in, too.”
Mom swatted his arm with a dish towel. “Go get the containers from the fridge, Levi. And take the good ones. Not the cracked lids.” She beamed at Gram. “This is a great idea.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, because old habits died hard in the Barrett house.
I packed up the lasagna while Mom hovered, adding garlic bread and a bag of salad just in case, until the paper sack was heavy in my hands. It felt ridiculous to be nervous about dropping off leftovers. I’d run into burning buildings without blinking. I’d carried strangers out of smoke-filled rooms. I’d faced down worse than a potentially awkward conversation.
But Becca Hartford had always been different.
The thing about Sweetbriar was that errands were never just errands. They were opportunities. Intersections where past and present collided, whether you were ready or not.
“Don’t overthink it,” Mom called after me.
I paused, hand on the knob, the paper bag warm against my arm.
Too late.
Chapter 4
Becca
“Welcome back toSomebody Said in Sweetbriar. Today’s topic: Humiliation. If you ever need proof that the universe has a sense of humor, try embarrassing yourself before breakfast and then wait to see who shows up next.”
By late afternoon, the rain had settled into a soft, persistent drizzle. The kind that blurred the edges of things and made time feel slower. The day had stretched on in that strange way where nothing happened, yet everything felt heavier for it.
