Chapter 47
forty-seven
Willow
Before leaving the store, I touch base with Dean and Elaine about the Bitch Brigade’s plan.
“Wouldn’t dream of interfering with the ladies,” Dean says.
Elaine gives me a wide smile. “It’s about time my department gets some recognition.”
Lane leaves with me. “I can’t wait to open up all these dusty photo albums,” she says. “But what’s this home invasion thing?”
Speaking in hushed tones because we’re on the street, I fill her in on Ms. Angela’s idea, then lay out the role she needs to play to make it work.
I can feel her hesitation, but I know this will be good for Lane.
Her coming to the store this morning shows a shift is happening inside her.
Taking her mind off her own problems will help further.
And I also don’t believe Gail will move into Lilyvale based only on Ms. Angela’s word. She’ll need some serious coaxing.
Enter Lane.
“I’ve never hidden the fact that I hate her,” Lane tells me when I lay out my idea.
“Frame it differently. You haven’t seen her in a while.
You’ve matured. The death of your father brought you and Gail closer, and now you’re set to unite with her against me—the intruder.
The gold-digger. You could even play on the next generation, and how this whole…
” I gesture toward her belly “situation, is making you see things differently.”
She pulls a face. “And then what?”
“Then, the fun begins. There’s a reason she hated Lilyvale and Emerald Creek.” I don’t want to say it out loud, in case I jinx it.
The mansion looks at me kindly as we walk up the path to the front door. It’s been nothing but warm vibes since I’ve lived here. For whatever reason, Lilyvale has always been welcoming to me. That doesn’t mean she can’t feel differently about someone else.
As we brush against the cornstalks Beck attached to the pillars, Lane reads my mind. “That doesn’t sound like a safe situation.” The front door creaks ominously as we enter.
A small smile spreads on my lips. “How do you mean?”
“Gail is vicious. She’s gonna snoop around.”
“Let her. We’ve got nothing to hide.” Well, I might tell Noah to hide the prenup. She could draw conclusions. And that fake-marriage contract we signed too. We can’t risk her finding that.
While Lane goes on her search for photographs, I give Mom a call instead of sending my customary text message. “I heard there’s some hoopla going on with that woman,” she tells me. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. But thank you.” It means a lot to me that Mom is finally taking my side.
“Let me know if you need help,” she adds before ending the call.
For the next hour, I work from the kitchen on my laptop, following up on our Christmas orders.
Our pumpkin-scented garlands of dried leaves are so popular this season we’re almost sold out, so I’m ordering double quantity of pinecone-cinnamon-orange rind-evergreen garlands for the holidays.
Then I open my Ideas document and type, Talk to Autumn about offering a Christmas decoration service through the store.
With a happy sigh, I walk to the office.
I’ve gotten rid of all the heavy, dark-colored drapes—which for the most part, literally fell apart when we pulled them down.
In their place, gauze curtains and organdy panels filter the autumn light.
Large bouquets of hydrangeas grace each room.
Instead of changing the drab looking sofas, I’ve opted to have them reupholstered in warm neutral colors.
Throw pillows in bold patterns uplift the tone of each room.
Noah surprised me by having some of my nature watercolors professionally framed, and although my art is amateurish, it’s now adorning several rooms.
Walking down the hallway, I’m filled with joy.
Lilyvale has become my home.
I’m back in the kitchen, making apple cinnamon tea, when Lane comes in, her bottle-green sweater smeared with grayish dust. She places a stack of old photos carefully on the counter.
“I’ll do it under one condition,” she says. I realize I was almost hoping she’d say no. I’m becoming intensely conflicted about this plan. I instinctively feel how it might work. At the same time, having Gail here feels like a violation.
“Okay?”
“Beck and Griff have to be here. At all times.”
That sounds reasonable. “I’ll work on it.”
“Good luck tying Beck down, and Griff won’t come,” Noah says, surprising us as he comes into the kitchen.
He seems relaxed, looking devastatingly handsome with his three-day stubble, a lock of hair falling on his glasses, flannel open on a T-shirt.
“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks me, standing behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re so tight.”
He starts kneading my knots. “We don’t have to have her here,” he offers. I shake my head, but he continues. “I don’t believe it’ll make a difference in the end.”
“It will,” I assure him. Especially if it goes the way I think it will. “We just have to get through this and she’ll be gone. Aagh…” I moan as he works a knot where my shoulder meets my back.
“Better? Come on, lets go.”
I don’t need to change. These days I’m always dressed for a walk.
Jeans and hiking boots are my go-to, seeing as I’m on my feet all day at the store.
Today I threw on a rust-colored Henley with cute little flowers embroidered down the opening, and a Fair Isle cardigan.
You could put me on the cover of a fall magazine.
“I’ll go drop these pictures off at the library so Sophie can blow them up,” Lane says. “You should go. Enjoy this day.”
I follow Noah out the kitchen door, Calla, Maple, Muffin, and Myrtle nearly toppling me over as they rush out.
I take a deep breath, enjoying the warm sun on my face.
Noah and Lane are right. I needed this, and we should enjoy every day while we can.
Even if we get to keep Lilyvale and Emerald Creek intact for the next generations, this particular day will never come back: The swathes of white against the pure blue sky.
The deep purple of the asters. The pile of pinecones on the side of the driveway, accumulated by some organized chipmunk.
“I think it’s time for Myrtle to move to Alex and Chris’s,” I say as we reach the curve up the trail leading to the entrance of Emerald Creek. “Alex seemed to be doing well today. She looked rested. Myrtle is pretty independent from the pack, and gentle. What do you think?”
Calla ambles in front of us, oblivious to the fact we’re discussing her daughter. I can rationalize that she’s a dog, and that in all likelihood they’ll still see each other, but it still makes me emotional.
Noah wraps his arm closer around me. “Let’s wait until all this mess is behind us. Just a few more days until we’re back to normal.”
“How worried are you about Gail?” I ask my husband, squeezing his hand.
He stops and wraps me tightly in his arms. His heart beats loudly in his chest when he talks.
“There’s more to life than a legacy. There’s more than passing things on to the next generation.
There’s baring your soul to another. There’s feeling like you’re jumping off a cliff and you’re not sure the water is deep enough where you’re landing, but what the hell, if I’m jumping I’m holding your hand.
There’s realizing the best part of the day is seeing my wife’s lovely eyes open when I bring her coffee in bed.
There’s adopting stray dogs, and making love on a staircase, and a million little things that will be forgotten when we return to ashes, but that will have made my life meaningful.
This time with you is giving my life meaning. ”
He loosens his hold on me so he can look me in the eye. “I’ve never felt so alive than since I’ve been with you. So yeah, sure, I hope we don’t lose the things. But as long as I have my people, I’m a happy man. And no one can take my people from me, least of all my wife.”
I run a hand on his jaw, cupping his face. “Damn right they can’t.” A gust of wind twirls leaves around us, the air suddenly cooling. “So, you are worried,” I say.
He thinks on it, then kisses me lightly. “I’m worried I’ll lose my temper. I’m worried I’ll use foul language at town hall. I’m worried Gail will try to insult you again. That’s all I’m worried about.”
The smile that fills me is contagious, and soon we’re both beaming like idiots. “It feels like rain,” he says as sudden clouds form above us.
“Let’s go home.”
When Lilyvale appears, Lane is outside, hands on her hips. We unleash the dogs, and they make a dash for her, leaving us behind. As we get closer, we can make out the frown on Lane’s face even as she pets Maple.