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“Then speak to him,” urged Fiona. “Get it all off your chest. I know you want to.”

“I do, but—” Pausing, she fussed with the spoon.

“But…what? You wait another thirteen years?” Fiona blinked. “Evie, there will never be a perfect time and you’ll never be one hundred percent ready. Bottling up what you really want to say isn’t good for you—or your Crohn’s.”

“You sound like Sam.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “He wants you to talk to Nick, too, right?”

“No! He thinks revisiting the worst time of my life will cause more stress, not less.” Evie banged the spoon on the edge of the pot, dislodging a gluey blob of oats. “And ultimately, what will it get me? A bunch of silly excuses? A half-assed apology?” She huffed. “He was a crappy, immature boyfriend—end of. I’ll do this job, be a pleasure to work with, then move on.”

“While keeping his DVDs and bowling shirt?”

She dodged Fiona’s stare.

“Eves, I know they’re Nick’s. You hate Grease 2.”

I wouldn’t say hate. Evie cleared her throat. “I meant to toss them but got busy and forgot.”

Fiona’s expression relaxed. “Forgot or—” Jamie tramped back in, and she paused abruptly.

“I gaffer-taped the napkin and cutlery boxes to the table in case the winds pick up.” He tugged his hoodie, clearly pleased with himself.

“Smart call!” Evie smiled, hoping some positive reinforcement might spur her cousin on to further good deeds.

Diving into the fridge, he loaded up a tray with the oatmeal toppings. “I’ll keep lids on till we’re ready to serve.”

“Perfect, thanks.” As Jamie left, Evie looked at Fiona fiddling with her costume. She dipped the spoon into the pot, the oatmeal’s consistency as thick as the atmosphere between them. Perhaps a change of subject might clear the air.

But Fiona leapt first.

“Whether you admit it or not, I think Nick still means a lot to you. It’ll give you some peace if you can find a way to be friends.”

Or dig up old unwanted feelings. Evie’s eyes skated across the Ring of Brodgar postcard—a thank you note from Gemma—taped to the truck wall. “Some things aren’t meant to last, Fi. Flowers wilt, the sun sets, relationships run their course…”

Fiona’s stare wasn’t budging, so Evie threw her a breezy “Fine, I’ll think about it” and her friend relaxed into a satisfied grin while adjusting her Victorian nightcap.

“I can’t wait to see Tarq’s costume.”

“Tarquin’s an extra?” Evie moved a stack of serving bowls closer to the oatmeal.

“Was supposed to be Leia, but Nick put her to work altering costumes.”

“Who’s looking after Luke?”

“Rupes.” Fiona chuckled. “Here’s hoping he’ll find three kids, a dog, and a barn full of animals too much and will stop asking when we can have another baby.”

Evie smiled. “Did you hear back about the dig?” The summer archeological excavation at the Ness of Brodgar, a substantial Neolithic find of stone buildings dating back five thousand years, was recruiting volunteers. Fiona was hoping to dust off her degree and put it to good use.

She nodded. “I haven’t told Rupert. Didn’t feel like the right time with Poppy being unwell.”

“Starts soon, right?” Evie spied the crew and extras congregating outside as well as Sunita walking up the path, swinging bags of shopping.

“Beginning of July,” replied Fiona. “I have to tell him soon.”

Sunita rounded the doorjamb. “Bon matin, mes amis!” She held up her bags. “I come bearing croissants, blueberry scones, and carrot muffins.”

“More muffins?” asked Fiona. “Eves baked some last night.”