forty-six | emberly
FORTY-SIXEmberly
“I don’t want to go.”
Brighton sighs as she tosses a pair of jeans into her suitcase.
“I don’t want you to, either.”
I’ve loved sharing a bedroom with her and Iris over the past month. Three twin beds, layered with quilts and fluffy pillows and stuffed animals, line the walls. I’ve never been to summer camp or had sisters, but I imagine this is what it’s like. And I’m loving both.
“You’ll be graduating soon and then your magic violin will take you anywhere you want to go,” I tell her.
Brighton played a solo during the church service yesterday and she has an incredible talent.
Will’s eyes were glistening (and he claims he doesn’t have a melty center) but he should be proud. He’s the reason Brighton was able to pursue her dream of becoming a concert violinist.
I met Lexi during her weekly Facetime call to Iris. She’s serious and steady, the kind of person who rolls with whatever happens, which makes her the perfect military wife. I’m looking forward to seeing her and Eric in person when they come home for Christmas.
I pull a shirt out of the closet and hold it up. “Do you like this? The color makes me look like I have the stomach flu, but I bet you’ll look great in it.”
“It’s cute.” Brighton sniffles.
I know it’s not because she’s overwhelmed with emotion for raw silk.
“Hey … what’s the matter?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and we plop down on Iris’s bed, upending Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, and a heart-shaped pillow with Declan Murphy’s picture that I ordered because I knew Iris would love it—and also because I wanted to see Will’s reaction.
“I’m always a mess when I have to leave at the end of the summer,” Brighton confesses. “It’s … hard.”
I get it. I flew to Olivia’s hometown in Connecticut to help her shop for a wedding gown and the three days I was gone felt more like three weeks.
Whitney was there, which could have been awkward but wasn’t.
We were celebrating Olivia, so she was our focus.
Rachelle had chosen not to be included in the bridal party and I didn’t ask why.
There are people who let go of you when life changes and people who hold on tighter. I know which one I want to be.
I squeeze Brighton’s hand. “Iris and I are already planning to fly out to see you, but act surprised, okay?”
“I will.” She leans against me. “I’m so glad you’re here, Em. Will … you’re good for him.”
We’re good for each other.
Brighton folds the shirt into a neat square and puts it in her suitcase. “I think that’s everything.”
I give her one more hug.
Reeve and Knox are already standing beside the convertible when we go outside. Brighton insisted on flying coach, but it would have meant leaving a day earlier than planned, so I contacted Skylar. She muttered something about renting a hangar at the local airport and I hope she wasn’t kidding.
“All set?” Will’s voice is brisk as he strides around the corner of the cabin, but he’s totally faking it. He isn’t looking forward to this goodbye, either.
“Yup.” Brighton flashes a sunny smile. “Where’s Iris?”
“She said she had something to do, but she should be—”
“Here I am!” Iris is racing across the lawn, Juni at her heels. “Sorry! I had to get this.” She’s clutching something against her chest and hands it to Brighton.
We crowd closer as she carefully unwraps the paper. I recognize the painting. It’s the one on the easel. Only now, it’s finished.
“Did you do this?” Brighton looks at Iris in wonder.
“Uh huh. Do you like it?”
Brighton tears up again. “It’s great.”
Will doesn’t say anything and I reach for his hand. His fingers weave through mine.
“Iris … this is … wow,” he finally manages.
She beams up at him.
Knox flicks Iris’s ponytail. “You’ve got some talent, Petunia.”
I wasn’t too sure about Knox when I first met him, but now it’s easy to see why Will considers him family.
Brighton picks up her carry-on. “Declan Murphy wouldn’t happen to be on my flight, I suppose?”
I laugh. “Not that I know of.”
Will laughs, too, and I’m relieved he no longer scowls every time he hears the country music star’s name.
Strangely enough, Knox is the one who’s scowling.
We form a loose circle and Brighton initiates another round of hugs. By the time she reaches Knox, he’s checking the air in Rosie’s back tire.
“Can’t forget your fiddle.” Will sets it next to Brighton’s suitcase in the backseat while she tucks the painting back into its tissue paper cocoon.
As she drives away, I slip my hand into Will’s.
“It won’t be long,” I remind him.
“I know.”
“And we’re going to see her in a few weeks,” Iris pipes up.
“You’re welcome to come with us,” I tell Reeve.
“Hey!” Will complains.
“Sorry.” I’m really not. “Girls’ weekend.”
Reeve chuckles. “I might accept your invitation. But right now, I have to run. Hazardous materials training this morning.”
“And I have to get back to the Grill,” Knox says. “I got a text from Dawn that my new line cook called in sick again.”
“I think it’s a terminal case of laziness.” Reeve shakes her head. “Fire him.”
Knox rolls his eyes. “You only say that because you have a never-ending supply of brothers to step in when you need help.”
“I’ll lend you some of them.”
The banter continues as they walk to their vehicles and Iris waves to someone on the dock.
“I promised Michael that I’d give him some fishing tips,” she tells Will.
“He’s eleven,” I murmur. “No criminal record. Likes Star Wars.”
“Have fun,” Will says.
Iris and Juni sprint across the yard and his gaze settles on me. He wiggles his brows.
“Alone at last.”
I count at least a dozen guests enjoying what’s left of their summer vacation and laugh. Because we’re never alone and because I love this playful side of him.
“I have to go, too. I promised Scott I’d stop by the spec house this morning.”
“How did your meeting go with the Realtor yesterday?”
“Good.” I’ve been using the studio as a temporary office, but it looks like my top choice is going to work out. “I think I found something.”
“That’s great.”
“And I can live there, too.”
Will tries to hide his disappointment with a smile, but we both know that Iris needs a space of her own, too.
And to be honest, after she goes to bed, when Will and I are snuggled up together on the couch, it’s getting more difficult to say goodnight with a kiss.
The changes for both of us have come so fast, but some things are too important to rush.
“It’s close to the resort. I didn’t want to say anything because the house wasn’t technically on the market, but the Realtor has been negotiating a deal and it looks like they’re going to accept my offer.”
“You put in an offer on a house that wasn’t for sale.”
It doesn’t sound like a question, but I answer with one.
“Yes?”
“How close is it?” Will is frowning. It’s his thinking frown, though (see? I’m getting better with the eyebrow cues!) so I’m not worried.
“Just down the road a few miles … the split-level log house.”
Will’s mouth drops open. I didn’t want to tell him until I knew for sure it was going to happen, but realize a few strong hints might have been in order. I love surprises, but I forget there are people who prefer some advance warning.
“You bought the Jackels’ place?”
“I don’t think that’s their name.”
Will winces. “It isn’t. That’s what Knox calls them. Long story. It’s the Hackels. They moved to Minneapolis a few years back … and their house is a vacation rental now. I actually built the sauna.”
“There’s a sauna?”
“You didn’t know this?”
“Well … it wasn’t on the market, remember? I haven’t exactly seen the inside. But it’s only a few miles away.” Which was my main criteria, so …
Will is shaking his head.
“Is it awful? Is it going to be a money pit? Because I can hire someone to fix it up. I don’t expect you to do the work. I am sooo impulsive.” I groan. “And … why are you laughing?”
Because he is. Will laughs more often now, but I never get tired of the sound.
I want to close my eyes and soak it in, the way I soak up the loon’s mournful song and the crackle of the campfire.
The rumble of Will’s lawn mower as he drives past me and waves.
Yes, the lawn mower. I’m completely, head over heels in love with the man.
And he’s still laughing.
“Will? Be honest. What did I do? I’m supposed to meet with the Realtor and sign the contract tomorrow, but I can back out.”
“What did you do?” Will’s hands clasp my shoulders and he leans forward until our noses are almost touching. “You bought my competition.”
“Your competition?” Now I’m frowning. How dare those Category Twos (I’ve been here long enough to pick up some of the language) pass up Pinehart’s adorable cabins for a faux log home?
“The inside has been totally renovated,” he continues. “There’s a media room. Five bedrooms. A gourmet kitchen. A hot tub.”
I’ll bet it’s all taxidermy deer heads and buffalo plaid. Not that they don’t have their place, but like Will, I’m realizing that I love to incorporate nature and a bit of whimsy into my designs.
“It’s not a money pit?”
“It’s not a money pit.”
He presses a kiss against my forehead. “Don’t be surprised if Cab invites herself over every day.”
“I would love that.”
I also love when Will’s lips trace a path down my cheek. I wrap my arms around his waist as he claims more ground. The base of my neck. The spot above my collarbone where my pulse thrums like the bass guitar in a Declan Murphy song.
A cell phone begins to ring—Will’s this time—and he ignores it.
“Will …”
His breath warms my skin as he exhales and takes a step back.
We smile at each other. Interruptions are inevitable, but it makes the time we’re together even sweeter.
“Woman … what you do to me,” he murmurs.
I go up on my tiptoes and answer with a lingering kiss, just so he won’t forget.
He winks at me and answers the phone. “Pinehart Resort.”
I point at my watch. I have some blueprints to review. And I have to talk to Samantha about her latest idea for their property. She wants a tree house that looks like a pirate ship for her children and I just happen to know a guy …
Will catches my hand, holding me in place.
“Thank you. That sounds great. I’ll check my calendar and we can set up a time that works for both of us.” He hangs up. “That was Mrs. Raleigh.”
“She got back to you already?” I can’t hide my excitement. “What did she say?”
“She would love to give Iris private lessons after school … and she’ll consider teaching some basic watercolor classes for the guests next summer.”
The lessons were my idea. The schools in Cedar Bridge had canceled the art program several years ago and the YouTube videos Iris has been watching isn’t the same as having one-on-one sessions with a retired art teacher.
The classes … that idea came from Will himself.
Now I’m wondering if he’s having second thoughts about allowing people to use the studio.
“The classes can wait, Will. You don’t have to make a decision right now.”
His expression clouds and I tuck myself against him.
“Mom would love it. I was just thinking … how much she would love you. My dad, too. I wish you could have met them.”
I feel like I have. Will’s parents might not be here, but I see them when I look around Pinehart.
I see them when I watch the guests enjoying a little slice of heaven the Hartleys could have kept for themselves.
I see them in the photographs and the flowers planted beside the cabin.
In the funny quotes and inspirational verses that hang on the walls.
I see them when a smile dances in Will’s blue, blue eyes and in his attention to detail. I see them when he thanks God whenever we sit down to eat. When he checks on Iris after she goes to bed every night, even though she sighs that she’s thirteen and he doesn’t have to anymore.
I see Will’s parents in the man they raised. And I look forward to the future, because I know the good that we have right now is only going to get better.
“I don’t know.” I peek up at him through my lashes. “Their only son and a Summer Barbie?”
Will growls. “I’m going to kill Knox.”
“Reeve spilled the beans. And I do drive a pink car.” I also like heels and cute accessories.
“There is no one else like you,” he says almost fiercely. “I love you, Em.”
“I love you, too.” Now it’s my phone that beeps a warning.
“And I’m officially late. I can’t tell Becky I got tied up in traffic, either,” I mock complain.
“You can tell her you had to stop for a flock of turkeys. She’ll understand.”
A flock of turkeys. I love this beautiful, wild place.
Will reluctantly releases my hand and falls into step beside me. “How about a date night at the Dairy Den? After you’re done with work, you and me and Cab can take a walk through the house you bought sight unseen.”
I wince. “I should have told you what I was thinking. I won’t do it again. Promise. Fairy godmother syndrome. It’s really a thing,” I add the last part just to tease him.
“The only promise you ever have to make is that you’ll keep surprising me. And …” Will’s eyes twinkle. “Who knows? Once in a while … I might surprise you, too.”
“I don’t need surprises.”
Because everything I need—everything I want—is right here at Pinehart.
Five stars.
Highly recommend.
The End