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“No, I have no idea. She stopped answering my calls around the time she met Maeve. Something about enabling me.” He shrugs, but the gesture is less casual than it should be. Darren’s feelings have always been too big to contain. Only basketball and alcohol have ever managed to dull them. “Bad timing too. Had some big news to share.”
“What’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” He shakes his head and kicks the carton of fries.
The birds descend on the loose fries like vultures.
Only, they’re not vultures.
They’re bluebirds. Dozens and dozens of bluebirds.
17
HOPE
“What time is the appointment with the baker?” Tessa sounds muffled, like she’s cupping a hand over the phone to keep from being heard. In the background, dishes clatter and my two nieces argue about who gets to hold the remote. My brother-in-law’s voice reveals he’s trying, and failing, to act as mediator. “I need to get out of this house. Maybe I’ll make an excuse and meet you.”
“Meet me?” My voice hits a high note.
“You made the appointment, right? I told you he’s only available to meet with new clients the first Saturday of the month. That’s today.”
“Yes, I did. Of course.” The phone number for Rhode Island’s most famous bakeshop, which I highlighted and taped to my laptop, stares like an accusation.
“So what time?” Tessa sounds impatient. No, she sounds like she doesn’t believe me.
I rub at a sudden tightness around my chest, as if lying to Tessa had a physical consequence.
“It’s just that ... I’m going with Will.”
My pulse ticks up, though that’s not exactly a lie. I am going with Will. We’re just not going to the baker.
“Will? Roof-deck Will? Kingsette Inn Will?” A crash punctuates her question, and guilt screws up my face.
“Yes, that Will. But don’t read anything into it. He’s just doing his job.”
“Mm-hmm. His job is to make sure you have enough tables and chairs in the ballroom. I doubt he goes to bakery appointments for all his clients.”
“He’s invested in this party. It’s the first official event he’s overseeing from start to finish.”
“Oh, he’s invested in something, all right.”
“Tessa,” I warn, but halfheartedly. For the moment, my nonexistent relationship with Will is safer territory than my nonexistent baker appointment. There will be time later to manage her expectations about Will.
“Okay, okay. But I want details.”
“There won’t be details, but let’s catch up tomorrow.” I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in forever, my cheeks have a little color—probably from the extra hikes I’ve been taking to the lake and the time spent helping Maeve with her garden. As it turns out, I still have a green thumb.
“Fine. Meet me for a run tomorrow. I decided I’m going to do a 5K this fall, and training starts in the morning.”
I agree, and Tessa hangs up as the shouts erupt into full-blown shrieks. Once things settle, I’ll take the girls for a sleepover and let Tessa and Noah have a night to themselves. Maybe Will would be willing to let me reserve one of the honeymoon suites at the Inn. The girls would love it.
Will’s text interrupts my best-aunt-ever daydream:You sure you don’t want me to ring your doorbell and come in? I feel obnoxious sitting in my car and texting you to come out.
Nope. Text is fine.
Will:Then...I’m here.
Me:I’ll be down in two seconds.
