Page 63 of Left of Forever

“Busy for this time of year, though?” she observes, sounding a little harried. “You might have to hire more people when I’m gone.”

I don’t pull on my end of that conversation thread. She’s down to partial days on the few that she comes in, and I’ll be just fine when she officially retires. I’m on enough of the local counties’ recommended vendors lists for larger events, and the seasonal influxes are reliable, too. I can afford to hire more staff. While I’m excited to be able to call the place mine, I’ve got no reason (or right) to push her out too quickly.

“It’ll always be Savvy’s, Mom,” I tell her.

“It won’t, sweets, and it’ll be better for it,” she says. “New beginnings are best when you get to pick and choose what you carry over from the old.”

“Subtle.” I laugh. “What happened to not putting a burnt cake back in the oven?”

“That’scake, babe,” she says. “But think of all the things that only get better after they’ve been burnt. Caramelized sugar, flambéed bananas, flambéed apples, for that matter… ooohhh, a Basque cheesecake…” She trails off just as I hear a strange rubbing sound and spot something blow up from the vineyards and into the road before me.

“Hey, Mom? I gotta go.”

CHAPTER 32

ELLIS

When my eyes slit open, daylight is blazing through the room, and a sunny Wren is sitting cross-legged on the bed, chin in hand and watching me sleep.

“Apparently, you snore these days, too,” she says. “Good morning.”

I close my eyes and growl appreciatively. “Must have been extra tired.”

She gives me a sympathetic cluck and ruffles a hand through my hair. “You did work very, very hard last night. I’ve got the beard burn to prove it.” I can hear the blush in her tone.

“Yeah?” I blindly grab at her ankle and lift up her skirt to see. She bats my hands away.

“Nah-ah, we don’t have time for that. We’ve gotta pack up, and we’ve been invited over for breakfast at Bernie and Bob’s, who also comped our stay. I ran into them on a little walk a bitago.” She escapes my wandering hands again and glides off the bed.

“Hey, Byrd?” A yawn rolls out of me and I stretch. Something crackles in my knee.

“Yeah?” she says, trying to manage her wild hair.

I sigh happily at the sight of her concentrated pout in the mirror. “Why is there another man in our room?” I ask.

She grabs the inflatable doll propped up against the wall beside her and spins around with him. “Oh, do you mean him?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She gives him a jovial shake. “When I was on my walk, he came drifting across the road on the breeze, like some sad tumbleweed of depravity,” she explains with a sigh. “I didn’t want him to end up in the pond or for some sort of animal to choke on him or something. Between this and the groomsman I saw passed out on one of the porches, my best guess is that the other cottages are occupied by the bridal party.”

I’m still slow on the uptake, I think. “What sort of animal is gonna choke on a whole-ass inflatable doll?”

She gives a bratty scoff. “I mean if it, like, popped or something,” she says. “Why, you jealous of my new friend?” She hugs the thing a little closer.

I’m so happy I feel sick, actually. “Wren, I can still taste you in my mustache. I can’t think of a single person on the planet to be jealous of right now.”

Her mouth falls into a littleOand her eyes go round, cheeks and chest blushing a pretty pink. “We need to go to breakfast,” she says, husky and unconvincing. At whatever my face is doing, she adds, “I mean it, Ellis. We haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. We’re supposed to be there already,” with a laugh.

I unfold myself from the bed and scratch at my chest. WhenI catch her ogling me in my briefs, I lift a brow at her like a final offer. The color on her cheeks heightens.

“I’ll be outside,” she clips, rolling her suitcase behind her.

Breakfast ended up being a delight. For Wren and me, at least. Bob and Bernie intercepted Tabitha and her future groom somewhere and wrangled them and their crew into joining us, and I got to be smug over the fact that, after calling me old, theyoungstersall looked like they didn’t think food would ever be good again. Meanwhile I was upright, feeling great, and wolfed down my omelet and fried potatoes with enthusiasm.

We’re now more than four hours into our five-hour drive time (predominantly spent in companionable silence or, if you’re Wren, snoring softly), and it’s flown by with ease.

Which, naturally, has started to make me uneasy.