Chapter One
“W hat’s he doing here?”
Chloe Cramer, still riding the high from her Madrigal Dinner solo, dragged her attention reluctantly back to her cousin, Jessica Maye. Finally, Chloe had had the opportunity to sing the plaintive and beautiful call to buy her lavender at the annual South Point Abbey College Madrigal Dinner that was a fundraiser for the small but prestigious college’s music conservatory and fine arts department. Held the Saturday before Thanksgiving, the Madrigal Dinner kicked off Belmont’s holiday season and Chloe’s favorite time of year.
“Who?” Chloe didn’t look where Jessica pointed. Instead, she tilted back her head to stare at the panoply of stars. “It’s a night full of stars and possibility,” she sang out, still riding the high of the night.
“No. Just no,” Jessica said. “Not him.”
Chloe and Jessica had just finished loading the last of the rented linens from the annual event into laundry bags. Already a team of fraternity brothers from South Point Abbey folded up the tables and rolled them toward a storage area in the back of the small, Gothic-like campus chapel. Chloe loved how the many groups on campus jumped in and pulled off so many events throughout the year.
She continued to hum the song she’d just performed. It was, in her opinion, the most beautiful feature of the Belmont Madrigal Dinner, which the Maye family had launched decades ago.
“Look!” Jessica gripped her arm, halting her progress across downtown’s large Maye Park. “It’s him. I know it is. I can’t believe he’s returned to Belmont.”
Chloe stared dreamily at the “interloper.” She’d been sneaking peeks at him most of the night. How Jessica had only now noticed the bad boy of Belmont was a travesty. Chloe had been dreamily staring at Rustin Wildish since childhood. She’d noticed him at the beginning of the night unloading steaming tureens of stew from a black van.
She, of course, had been running late. She’d dashed across the park towards the dinner under medieval-looking tents—although there had been merry party lights casting a golden glow. She’d ducked behind a fat dogwood trunk and wiggled into her serving wench costume. She loved playing a serving wench because she could be cheeky with the guests and other wenches, and often broke into quoting medieval poetry or song. Jessica and her two accomplished, elegant and sophisticated sisters always played a lady and sat at the head of the table as hostess.
“Jessica, Belmont is Rustin’s—”
“Sh…sh…sh…sh.” Jessica clapped her hand over her mouth like she was still eight and had blurted an embarrassing truth. “Don’t say his name.”
Chloe dragged Jessica’s hand off her mouth. She was so over how everyone shaded the Wildish family, especially Rustin. Belmont was better than this, or it should be, and all the Maye family—not just Grandma Millie—should step up and set the example.
“What is he, Voldemort ?” Chloe rolled her eyes and shifted her focus back to Rustin—a much more enjoyable view than Jessica’s peevish pout. Even from yards away, Chloe could see the flex of muscle in Rustin’s forearms and part of a tat as he loaded tubs of dirty dishes into racks in the back of a black van.
She sighed in pleasure. He’d always moved like water. And his focus was hot. Even from here, she could see that his rangy frame had filled out: broad shoulders, narrow waist, tight butt, and long legs.
Yes, please.
Not that Rustin Wildish would ever notice her. She was small and unremarkable and considered the “odd Maye.” Not even a Maye by blood but a charity child Miss Millie Maye had generously raised.
“What’s he doing here?” Jessica again demanded as she peered around the tree then spun back and flattened herself against the trunk like they were playing hide-and-seek.
Jessica had already changed out of her medieval costume. Chloe had forgotten where she’d stashed her bag of street clothes.
“Jessica, you’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting? Oh, dear Lord.” Jessica crossed herself and Chloe crossed her eyes. “Rustin Wildish is back in Belmont.”
“I know,” Chloe said, devouring Rustin with her hungry gaze. “He looks as delicious as his stew.”
Jessica made a weird choking sound that made Chloe laugh, but she noticed, Jessica too still stared at Rustin who’d kept the rumor mill full of grist since kindergarten. Grandma Millie joined Rustin. She was tall, slim, and spry even in her late seventies. She paced beside him as he toted dirty dishes, her ringed fingers weaving in the air as she no doubt detailed another long list of directions for him to carry out. She’d always worked her employees and volunteers hard, but fairly.
Wow, even the way Rustin cocks his head and listens is sexy.
“Unbelievable,” Jessica said and glared as if scandalized. She looked at that moment, exactly like her mother, and Chloe laughed, hoping to help Jessica snap out of her unusual judgey mood.
“C’mon. It’s funny. Same as when we were kids. You, shocked by all things Rustin Wildish, and me, sneaking around and spying on him.”
Chloe had been fascinated by Rustin. She saw through his impressive brood to the hardworking boy who wanted to be the man to pull his family out of the dark and cold of poverty. Most everyone else in town had fueled the dismissive rumors about generations of lazy, addicted criminals and skanks of the Wildish clan. But even the worst gossips couldn’t deny the Wildish men were panty-flaming hot.
Jessica peeked around the tree trunk again.
“What is Grandma Millie thinking? He shouldn’t even be in North Carolina, much less Belmont!”
“He’s using the skills that Grandma Millie taught him to help the college.” Chloe felt her patience slip. “Why are you being so rude?”
“He’s probably stealing from Grandma Millie.”
“Dirty dishes?” Chloe loved Jessica, but she’d always been way too critical of Rustin. “Please. He worked for Grandma Millie for years as a kid. She taught him how to be a chef. He’s volunteering, which is an homage to his…”
“A chef,” Jessica interrupted and rolled her beautiful green eyes. “He was a dishwasher and left town without graduating high school.”
“He went to culinary school,” Chloe defended.
“How do you know that?” Jessica crossed her arms, her expression tight with disapproval. Color slashed across her high cheekbones. “Rustin is trouble just like his whole family tree.”
“That is not fair, Jessica, and you know it.”
“He’s bad news,” Jessica insisted.
The critical behavior was so unlike Jessica that Chloe stared at her, mind whirling. What was the cause of her intense dislike? To Chloe’s knowledge, Jessica hadn’t seen Rustin since high school. She sounded more like her father, Sean Ryan Maye, than her usual thoughtful, kind self.
“Don’t crush on him again, Chloe. Steer clear. He’ll smash your heart.”
“Like there’s a chance of that happening,” she said good-naturedly. If she had a chance with Rustin, she’d willingly risk any level of heartbreak.
“Seriously, Chloe, steer clear.” Jessica gave her a quick, fierce hug. “You’re so sweet you give everyone the benefit of the doubt. You don’t know what Rustin’s like.”
“You do?” Her interest flared.
Jessica took a step back, her leaf-green eyes wide in her creamy white skin. “Of course not.”
Jessica seized her hand and dragged her across the downtown park of Grandma Millie’s historical home. And what a home it was: a beautiful famous landmark, eight thousand square feet of fully restored and preserved antebellum architectural history delicately perched on two acres of manicured lawns backing up to a small man-made lake and fountain. It had been in the Maye family for generations, and Grandma Millie had moved into the house as a bride and still ruled there. Her one son had married and raised his three daughters in the house, but he and her aunt had bought a house on Lake Wiley after Jessica, his youngest daughter, had left for college.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Chloe pulled her arm free. “You’re like six-inches taller than I am and a total runner and with all the gardening you’ve been doing to update Grandma Millie’s old farm property, you’re practically an Amazon.”
“Maybe that’s what Grandma Millie’s text was about to meet her at the house. Maybe she needs help getting rid of Rustin.”
“Unlikely. She always took an interest in Rustin,” Chloe said, and then she pulled her cousin’s stiff, slim body into a tight hug, wanting to will her suspicion and bad mood away. “Please, Jessie.” She resorted to the nickname from childhood. “We’re all grown up. Give Rustin a chance.”
“No,” Jessica said.
*
Jessica’s sisters, Sarah and Meghan were already assembled in Grandma Millie’s parlor. They too had changed from their medieval costumes into knit dresses with matching blazers and colorful high-heeled ankle boots. It shamed Chloe that she could barely walk in high heels much less run across a park like Jessica had.
“Guess what?” Jessica burst out, and Chloe sighed heavily.
It wasn’t like Rustin was guilty of anything except being incredibly hot and not particularly friendly and coming from a rough, disadvantaged family. But she didn’t blame him for that. He couldn’t help who his family was any more than she could help that her family had abandoned her like a Christmas morning fruit basket on the Maye’s massive and elegant front porch.
Like her, Rustin had done his best to help his family. Sure he’d been an indifferent student probably because he’d been hustling for work to help his single mom who had rheumatoid arthritis and four kids to house and feed.
In her mind, Rustin was a hero, like Heathcliff or—
“So nice of you to join us girls,” Grandma Millie interrupted Chloe’s thoughts.
One night in town, and I’m Rustin-obsessed again.
Grandma Millie sat in her usual cherry winged-back armchair with the brilliant silk peacock-patterned upholstery.
“Let’s get to it,” Grandma Millie said briskly as soon as Jessica perched on a chair and Chloe chose a matching ottoman. Seeing Jessica’s perfect posture, Chloe made an effort to think like the ballerina she’d never been. While all of the Maye sisters looked calm, likely they all wondered about the summons following the Madrigal Dinner. Sunday dinners at Grandma Millie’s was when they would “autopsy” any family news or event the family spearheaded.
“Girls, I have an announcement,” Grandma Millie said. She took a sip of tea and then looked at each of them.
“What?” Meghan made a rolling hand motion, as if rolling out a red carpet, to hurry along Grandma Millie.
“Meghan Carlingford Maye, don’t hurry me,” Grandma Millie said, and as if she pulled a string, Meghan shot ramrod straight. Twin slashes of color stained her cheeks. Gone was the corporate attorney.
Chloe bobbled the teapot. She wasn’t technically a Maye sister, though she’d grown up alongside them and was often lumped in with the Maye girls, even now that they were women. But she’d never called Sean Ryan Maye Daddy . And Elizabeth Katherine Maye would have had a stroke if she’d once called her Mama . Grandma Millie had been Grandma Millie as long as Chloe could remember, and the few times she’d inquired about her past—Jessica called it her origin story —Grandma Millie had called her a blessing in a tone that warned her to leave the topic alone.
And for the most part, she tried to.
Grandma Millie looked at each of them, one by one. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath. Chloe heard the grandfather clock, a relic brought over by boat from Ireland, mark the time. That clock had terrified her as a small child.
“The town is changing,” Grandma Millie said, and she took a fortifying sip of tea.
They all waited. No one interrupted Grandma Millie. And they couldn’t disagree.
Belmont was changing. The mills that once had made Gaston County an economic force had closed decades ago. The Mayes had owned three of those once thriving mills but had turned the market crash into property development, and the completion of the highway over a decade ago had made the charms of historic Belmont more accessible to Charlotte residents. The pandemic had brought more development as young professionals jettisoned their condos, wanting yards, open spaces, coffee shops, wine bars and restaurants and activities to raise a family.
“We can fight the change or lead it.”
Grandma Millie took another sip of tea and then carefully put down her teacup and saucer and blotted her lips with a linen napkin.
“Why would we fight change?” Chloe wondered. Jessica lightly tapped her arm, a subtle warning.
“I’m a fighter.” Again, she drilled them with a stern look. “As are all of you.”
Chloe sat straighter on the ottoman. She’d always wanted to be a true Maye and often felt like she fell short. But she wouldn’t let Grandma Millie down. Not ever.
“Mayes are one of the founding families of Belmont,” Grandma Millie intoned, “yet none of you are married. It’s past time.”
No one spoke. An image of Rustin—black hair tumbling over his brow, tatted forearms flexing as he carried the tub of dirty soup tureens—popped in her head, and she felt herself flush.
“I don’t think any of you are even dating.”
None of the Maye sisters spoke. They were a little pale, and their fingers fidgeted on the teacups, and no one looked at Grandma Millie. Chloe figured they were all thinking their love lives—or lack of them—were none of Grandma Millie’s business, but they were too polite to say so. Chloe knew Grandma Millie not only considered all of her family’s lives her business, but all the goings on in the town her business as well.
“Well?” Grandma Millie demanded. “Nothing? Do I have to do everything myself?”
“You want to find dates for us?” Chloe tried to cut some of the tension.
Jessica pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but Sarah and Meghan looked a little scandalized.
Grandma Millie made a sound that on another woman would have been described as a snort.
“It’s tradition for Mayes to lead this town, and it’s time you all stepped into your roles.”
No one spoke, but the schooled expressions likely hid many thoughts.
It’s like we’re in a play, but we don’t know our lines.
Grandma Millie picked up her teacup and saucer again, a small smile ghosted as she clearly savored the drama.
“I am stepping down from my leadership in the Belmont Ladies’ League, and the four of you are taking my place.”
Sarah’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Jessica regarded Grandma Millie like a prospective client she wasn’t sure she wanted to take on. Meghan examined the linen napkin in her lap like she’d never seen it before.
“What exactly does that mean, Grandma Millie?” Chloe finally ventured.
Grandma Millie was incredibly busy chairing many committees in town and at church. A few months ago, she’d shuttered her diner, Millie’s , a town institution, for renovations, and she hadn’t allowed any of them to see the progress, even Chloe who’d practically grown up in the diner.
“I’m retiring,” she said succinctly. “Perhaps this calls for something more celebratory, girls. Sarah, champagne,” Grandma Millie instructed.
Sarah jumped up as if Grandma Millie had jerked a string.
“I’ll help, Sarah,” Jessica said and carefully put down her teacup, though it rattled in the saucer.
No one spoke until Sarah returned with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Jessica carried a tray of champagne glasses.
“You planned this big announcement, Grandma Millie?” Jessica’s voice strained with shock.
“I always have champagne in the fridge. All hostesses do.”
Good to know.
Chloe had never hosted anything ever, though she’d been Grandma Millie’s minion—as had the Maye sisters for as long as any of them could walk and talk politely.
“Don’t tell me.” The tension in Meghan’s voice could cut glass. “The champagne was already chilling in the ice bucket and the glasses were trayed.” Meghan had always had the syrupy sarcasm down to a bless your heart art form. Probably why she was an attorney and rarely fooled.
“Sarah, pop the cork,” Grandma Millie spoke into the tense silence. “And then we’ll toast your next challenge.” She smiled like a shark, and Chloe’s tummy flipped. Grandma Millie had always been kind and supportive, but she did not suffer anything less than your best.
Chloe felt her best fell short on too many occasions.
“Or two,” Grandma Millie added.
“What exactly do you mean, Grandma Millie?” Sarah asked, her voice perfectly modulated, but her body was tense as a violin string as she expertly popped the cork.
She poured and Jessica handed the flutes around, the first to Grandma Millie.
“A toast,” Grandma Millie said. “To the Maye family and their continued good health and prosperity as they steward Belmont into a new era and start their own families. Drink up.”
The girls all sipped like it was poison, and they had a gun held to their heads, Chloe thought a little dramatically. She sat on the edge of her seat. The portentous tick-tock of the clock reminded her of a bomb in an action-adventure film.
“I know you girls have careers, and it’s important for a woman to establish herself, to pursue her dreams, but family too is crucial.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all chorused, and Chloe wondered if at the end of Grandma Millie’s sermon she should shout hallelujah.
“Belmont is important. We were a small town far away from big-city greatness, and now we are considered one of the most desirable bedroom communities of Charlotte, with a strong tourist draw, unique shops, professional businesses, good schools, a desirable liberal arts college with a respected music conservatory and fine arts program”—and she smiled at Chloe, the only one of the Mayes who’d attended South Point Abbey, which the Mayes had helped establish.
“Mayes are integral to the community with their service and expertise,” Grandma Millie nodded at Sarah and Meghan. “We’ve built a strong town and a strong community and a stronger family.”
A chill froze Chloe.
“You’re not sick, are you Grandma Millie?”
One of the reasons Chloe hadn’t objected when Grandma Millie told her to choose South Point Abbey’s music conservatory and live at home for college instead of moving away like her cousins had done was because Chloe hadn’t wanted her grandma to be alone, even though it was impossible to imagine such a busy woman lonely.
Grandma Maye sipped her champagne, her posture exemplary.
“Certainly not. But I’m not getting any younger. We need to prepare for the future.”
Chloe relaxed and took another, heartier, sip of champagne. Dang it was delicious. She hardly ever drank, and she imagined the bubbles going straight to her brain.
“The Mayes have help to build Belmont with other families. We were initially farmers, then industry and now businesses. We fundraised for the church, the parks, the hospital, schools and helped establish the college. But what is it for if there is no one left to carry on the legacy?”
“Sheesh, Grandma Millie.” Meghan looked at her watch. “Let me schedule in time to pop out a baby. You’re still accepting new patients aren’t you?” She looked at Sarah.
“Enough,” Grandma Millie said tartly. “I’ve made my decision. Now for the challenge.”
Sarah looked like she’d bitten into a lime instead of taking a sip of Salon Champagne Brut Blanc de Blancs. Meghan tossed back the remaining champagne, put down the glass and rubbed her hands together.
“Oh goody. Dukes up, girls.” She made fists like a boxer.
“A challenge within a challenge,” Grandma Millie said cryptically. “And while I expect you to help each other, one of you will have to take charge. You can volunteer or we can pull cards.”
Choosing the high card draw was Grandma Millie’s favorite way to make a decision when the four of them had been in disagreement.
“For what?” Sarah asked warily.
Grandma Millie looked at Sarah for a long moment, and Chloe wondered what she was looking for, or what she wanted to see but didn’t. She clutched her champagne glass and went to take a sip but it was empty.
“Each of you will head the committee of the four major events that the Maye family sponsors each year, starting with the Movable Feast.”
“That’s in three weeks,” Sarah objected. “Most of the work’s probably been done.”
“It’s the tradition that has the most individual freedom for the participating families on Belmont Circle,” Grandma Millie nodded. “And yet the families apply and are chosen. Yes, the participating families have been chosen, but the menu has not. The meeting to approve the menu and the theme is tomorrow at my house at three p.m. Keep in mind that it’s tradition for this home to anchor the event by offering a main course, so whoever takes the event will also be in charge of planning and cooking an entrée. Who will take over for me this year?”
Grandma Millie sounded like she had a clipboard and pen as she stared down Jessica, who nearly bit off a chunk of the champagne flute. “You’d be the obvious choice, Sarah, as the eldest, but Jessica has the organizing and IT skills as a CPA, and it’s not tax season.”
Chloe practically heard Jessica gulp.
“Meghan, you are an excellent delegator. Persuasive and quite brilliant as the lawyer in the family. Cooking a showstopper entrée for up to two hundred guests is a bit more of a challenge, although you will have volunteers helping, of course. The college groups are already signed up to help to serve and clean up. I have faith in each of you.”
No one spoke.
Chloe wasn’t sure what happened. It was like she was under a spell. Grandma Millie hadn’t even mentioned her—of course. But why not? As a teacher she made lesson plans, managed students, planned field trips, chaired committees, and organized concerts for her small acapella choir at the high school and the college.
Shame stirred in her. And anger. Maybe it was because she hadn’t eaten all day and had merely gulped down a mug of mulled wine backstage when she’d learned she was finally going to sing a solo at the Madrigal Dinner and chased that with one bite of delicious stew.
“I’ll do it.” She jumped up from the ottoman so quickly that it tipped back and clunked on the gleaming hardwood floor and antique handloomed carpet. She held up her empty flute, upside down. Oops. She righted it. How had she gulped the champagne so quickly? “I’ll do it,” she sang out. “I will keep the Maye tradition of Belmont’s Movable Feast alive and delicious!”