“I got out early,” she replied gallantly, while Wykofski made a silent slicing motion over his throat.
He eyed his aunt. “Are you sure?”
“It was allterriblydull,” she complained, “so I excused myself, all right?”
Wykofski said, “We might need to find a new physical therapist.”
“Lala!” Oliver scolded.
Eula waved her hand defensively. “Oh, don’t give methat. There’s too much to do! As you can very well see,” she added, referring to the sack of mail on Juliette’s desk. “And I am deeply sorry for the surprise invites, but I began thinking . . . if this is my last great hurrah, whyshouldn’tI invite everyone I’ve ever known?”
Juliette said, “This is a lot of people, Eula.”
“Too many,” Oliver agreed.
“Half would be good,” Yafir said. “There’s no way we’ll be able to fit that many people anywhere on the grounds. Right?”
And they all turned to me.
Naturally. Because you’d ask the gardener about the grounds.
I hesitated. On one hand, I agreed that five hundred people was more than a crowd, but on the other hand . . . itwasEula’s retirement party on top of Lilymoor’s bicentennial anniversary. After a moment of thought, there wasoneplace . . . Though it would take a lot of work. “We could fit them in the Willow Grove, if we opened it again?”
Immediately, Oliver shook his head. “No, I don’t think—”
But Eula interrupted him with an enthusiastic “That’s a lovely idea!”
He shot her a sharp look. “Lala, it’s been closed for over a decade.”
“Which is why we should open it again,” she replied. “Let in some fresh life.”
“But—”
“Oliver.Ollie,” she added, giving him a tender look. “It’s okay.”
If he had anything else to say, he swallowed it all, crossing his arms to trap whatever words were bouncing around in his chest.
“Besides,” she went on, “whoever will inherit Lilymoor will have to inherit all of it. The good, beautiful things, and the things that ought to be forgotten. Right?” And she slid a glance over to her nephew. His shoulders stiffened, and he looked away. He seemed like the obvious choice to inherit the estate. Why did he look so disenchanted at the prospect?
For the next half hour we discussed what it would take to open the Willow Grove, from mowing the expansive lawn, to clearing the debris that had collected over the last decade and a half, to the health of the willow trees themselves. I’d only ever given the field a passing glance, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was agreeing to.
“And, obviously, your contract will need to be amended again,” Eula added.
I shook my head. “Oh no, it’s fine—”
She held up a hand to silence me. “I insist. Now …” And she looked over her shoulder at Wykofski. “What do we all say to lunch? Are you a bit peckish? Then afterward we’ll start sealing those letters to mail off?”
“Sounds like one hell of a plan,” the maintenance man replied, and with a silent yet incredibly vocal look to us, he wheeled her to her bedroom.
Everyone split off to lunch, leaving Oliver and me standing in the empty office. He picked up the letter I had opened—the one to Cyrus—and tore it in two without a moment of hesitation. Then he dropped it into the trash bin beside Yafir’s desk, turned to me, and asked, “Have you had lunch? I’m craving a lobster roll.”
“I haven’t . . .”
“Then we’re having lobster rolls for lunch,” he decided, and when I tried to stop him, he was already out of the office and halfway to the stairs.
I guessed I really didn’t have a choice. Though as I left, I picked up the torn letter out of the trash and stuck it in my pocket. Then I followed him out.
13
