Wykofski said, refilling her glass, “Imagine if theothergreat-nephew was here, too.”
She moaned. “No! Donotspeak it into being! One nephew is enough. I’d rather go on a billion bad dates.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I chastised her, and a sheepish smile stretched across her face.
“Fine,” she admitted. “You’re right. But still. I wish he’d let me do my job and just …” She motioned away with her hands.
Wykofski said, having given it a long thought, “You know, I’ve known Ollie for years, and he just likes to busy himself in everything, you know? He’s not the kinda dude who just sits around.”
“He’s like Eula,” I said.
“Boredom is kryptonite for this family,” he agreed with a serious nod.
Juliette sank lower in her chair. “Lucky me. I’m trying not to stress too much about this. How’s the Willow Grove?”
“One-quarter mowed,” Wykofski said.
“And weeded,” I added. “We’ll need to fix the wall at the back of the garden, and rehome the voles, but it really isn’t that bad.”
She let out a breath. “Thankgod, at least one thing’s going according to plan.”
“Don’t jinx us,” I warned.
She laughed. “Sorry, sorry …” She was quiet for a moment, rubbing her thumb against the condensation on the glass. “Oliver’s going to inherit Lilymoor, isn’t he?”
“Probably,” I said, and Wykofski agreed.
“But you never know,” he added, “maybe the other nephew will surprise us.”
“No offense, Ned,” Juliette muttered, “but I, like, haven’t been surprised by a man in years.”
“None taken. But you know what they say—the people who don’t want the goose end up takin’ the proper gander.”
I said, “Wykofski, I don’t think anyone says that.”
“Nah, I’m sure they do.”
That evening, the door was in the Hedges again.Finally.It had eluded me all weekend, so it was a sight for sore eyes. Glancing around to make sure I was alone, I pulled open the door and stepped through.
The secret garden was the same as it was, quiet and sunny and mostly dirt. Cyrus’s suit jacket was hanging on the knob of a crab apple tree beside where he’d staked my shovel. I absently touched his suit sleeve, finally thinking how odd it was that he was in a suit of all things. People sometimes dressed up to come to Lilymoor, but notthismuch. Slithering out of his coat pocket was a pretty purple tie. A suit and tie . . .
While he was a lawyer, I couldn’t imagine him dressingeveryday like this. And hadn’t he talked about a party when I first met him?
Tucking the tie back into his pocket, I found Cyrus lying down in the gazebo, feet propped up on a pillar and arms folded behind his head. He must’ve heard me approach, because he cracked open an eye and then righted himself quickly. “Sophie! You’re back.”
“The goose regrettably didnotget me,” I said with an artful bow.
“My savior,” he replied sardonically.
I sat down beside him in the gazebo. “I didn’t realize you were scared of a little goose.”
“Little g—” He strangled himself silent, then started again, this time more levelly. “It was a very big goose, Sophie.”
“And I took a very tall tumble, Cyrus.”
“Rus,” he corrected.
“Rus,” I repeated. “I think I’m allowed to tease you for a second—I fell off a wall for you.”
