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“Is that the only church on the island?” Landon asks, stopping in front of a small stone building with a steeple on top. Ivy crawls up the sides, the leaves turning red with the autumn chill.
“It is.”
“But how do you all fit inside?”
“We don’t,” I say simply. “Do you not think it a narrow view that meeting God in the confines of a room is more likely than under the cover of the trees or in the open air of the fields?”
Landon pauses, considering the church. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
He looks at the building for another moment before falling in step beside me. We turn onto Main Street, and I watch as the charm of it washes over him, brightening his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Landon, are you ready to experience the best cheese of your life?” I ask.
“That’s a lofty statement, Miss Fairchild.”
“I stand by it,” I say.
Landon tips his head to the side, considering me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
The bell rings as we enter the Mouse Trap, and Mrs. Cotts runs out from the back to greet us. Her eyes widen and her smile spreads as she takes in the sight of the island’s highest daughter and the mainland’s most powerful son together.
Landon takes my hand, a confident smile settling on his face.
And so it begins.
thirteen
Once we’ve filled our picnic basket with meats, cheeses, bread, and rose water, we make our way to our last stop on Main Street: the perfumery. Wisteria hangs from the top of the stone storefront, filling the air with its sweet fragrance, and we walk inside to a group of mainlanders who look up as we enter.
Silence creeps through the store like fog through the trees.
I instinctively look down, but Landon keeps his head high. He turns to me and lowers his mouth to my ear. “Don’t let them off so easily. It’s rude to stare,” he whispers, so quietly only I can hear. “Let them know it.”
I look back up and make eye contact with each of the mainlanders, and each one looks away as if I’ve caught them stealing.
It feels good, letting them know I’ve noticed their scrutiny.
Finally, they begin chatting again, keeping their voices low as they walk out the store and leave us to ourselves.
“Scaring away our customers?” Dad asks with a wink when he walks out of the back room.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.” Dad gives me a soft smile before disappearing.
“So, this is your family’s shop,” Landon says as he looks around the room. It’s bright and airy, with wooden shelves the color of honey and white wallpaper walls printed with delicate ferns outlined in black. Dozens of plants sit on the shelves between rows of glass bottles, and a small chandelier with crystal lights in the shape of rosebuds hangs from the ceiling. Votive candles are nestled on the shelves, and small glass bottles filled with coffee beans sit beside them.
Dad is humming in the back, and it somehow adds to the charm of the perfumery.
“It is,” I say proudly, looking around the room.
I love it here.
“It’s something special,” he says. I look up at him and smile.
“I think so, too.” I lead him to the shelf that holds our more earthy, spicy colognes. “I’d love for you to pick one to take home with you.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyes drifting over the labels. He looks delighted, and it fills me with happiness.
