Lemonade Love (Orange Falls #1)

Chapter 1

Astrid

I tossed a roll of ribbons and a bundle of fairy lights into a cardboard box, which was already packed with planners, scattered notes, and enough crafting supplies to open a small store.

Before sealing it shut, I had a mini heart attack and dove back in, searching frantically for sticky notes and binders—my notorious forget-me-nots. Thankfully, they were there.

For a wedding planner, those two were like coffee and comfortable shoes, yet somehow, they always slipped my mind until I was standing in the venue, desperately digging through my emergency kit as if hunting for the lip balm I knew I’d packed but hadn’t.

I nudged the box aside with my foot and turned back to my bedroom closet for my essentials—my ride-or-die skincare, the hair ties that vanished into thin air no matter how many I stocked up on, and the scrunchies that’s sole purpose was decorating my wrist rather than holding my bun.

I opened the small drawer where I usually kept the scrunchies, expecting nothing unusual, certainly not the brown leather watch tucked among them, its cracked dial quietly staring up at me, a memory patiently waiting to be noticed again.

I picked it up, brushing my thumb gently over the cracked dial. My throat tightened. I hugged it close to my chest, gripping it as if it could somehow bring him back.

Bring dad back.

His voice rang softly in my mind.

“You know why I call this my lucky charm, Astrid?” Dad asked, fastening the watch onto his wrist.

“Oh God, Dad, not again.”

“Yes, again,” he said, grinning. “Because every time I wear it, I win. Never lost a single case.”

“Maybe your lucky charm could take a break?” I teased. “You know, let your actual talent shine for once.”

He shook his head, a smile reaching his eyes. “Sorry, kiddo. That’s not up for debate. This is the first gift you gave me. It stays right here”—he tapped the watch affectionately— “until my very last breath.”

Tears blurred my vision, slipping hot and fast down my cheeks.

My glasses fogged up, and I tugged them off, pressing my eyes against the sleeve of my shirt.

Dad had worn this watch every single day since I'd given it to him on his fiftieth birthday, even during his last breath, exactly as he'd promised.

My phone rang, snapping me out of the memory.

I was halfway to placing the watch safely back into its drawer when I paused.

One breath. Two. A heartbeat of hesitation, and then, as though it had always belonged there, I fastened the watch around my wrist. The strap hung loosely even on the tightest notch, the oversized dial swallowing my wrist whole, yet somehow it felt perfect.

I tore through the house searching for my phone, clueless as to how I'd managed to lose it again. Thankfully, whoever was calling had zero intentions of giving up as my phone rang relentlessly until I finally found it hidden inside one of the already-packed boxes. Kelly’s name flashed impatiently on the screen.

Of course, it was her. Nobody else would consider twenty missed calls a casual check-in.

The second I tapped the green button— “Where the hell did you drop your phone, Azzie? I aged five years waiting for you to pick up.”

Scolding first, greeting second, my best friend’s go to response.

“Oh no!” I gasped dramatically. “Are the wrinkles coming in?”

She snorted. “Yep, and you’re funding my Botox.”

“Finally accepting your age, I see. Proud of you, grandma.”

She groaned loudly. “I hate you!”

“Love you too!”

Kelly and I met on our first day of college.

Exhausted by overly peppy seniors determined to sell us freshmen on every historic brick of that campus, I’d escaped to the library. Apparently, I wasn’t the only escapee.

An agriculture major and a business major—what could we possibly have to talk about, besides debating crop rotations and quarterly profits?

But all it took was one shared granola bar, five minutes of whispered jokes escalating into uncontrollable snorts, and nearly getting kicked out by a librarian who took personal offense at giggles—for Kelly and me to become instant best friends. Still are.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Kelly said. “You got everything packed?”

“I could’ve driven myself, Kel. Orange Falls is only five hours away. I have a perfectly functioning car, a charged phone, and GPS for if I somehow manage to get lost.”

Moving to a small town like Orange Falls had never been part of my plan. But life had a funny way of flipping everything upside down without so much as a heads-up. Four months earlier, I’d lost my dad—and with him, the last piece of family I had left. My anchor, my person gone.

I'd tried immersing myself in work again, but the second a father took his daughter’s arm to walk her down the aisle, something inside me cracked. I broke down and walked away. After that, I stopped accepting events altogether. My heart couldn't bear being shattered repeatedly.

For months, Kelly had been trying to convince me to move to Orange Falls, the small town she'd grown up in, insisting that a change of scenery would help. I turned her down every time. No amount of picturesque charm could put me back together again.

When she finally stopped bringing up the whole change of place conversation, I assumed she'd accepted my no until a week ago, when she called me with the most absurd news I'd ever heard.

The wedding planner for Kelly’s neighbor had backed out at the last minute “scheduling conflict” being obvious code for “found someone richer.” So, Kelly, in all her brilliant impulsiveness, offered me up. Without asking.

She'd sold the poor couple on the idea that I was some sort of wedding-planning legend, shamelessly bragging about all the billionaire clients I'd supposedly handled.

And of course, they believed her instantly.

With only ten days until the big event and zero other options, what choice did they really have?

“If it were up to me, I’d have told you to drag your own butt here,” Kelly complained. “But Mom, sorry, your godmother , gave me specific orders to personally escort you to Orange Falls, as if you’re made of glass or something.”

“Can’t blame her,” I laughed, “We both know I’m her favorite child.” It was Kelly’s classic running joke that her mom had secretly swapped us at the hospital, then finally realized her mistake and tracked me down.

“I’m almost packed,” I said. “Just need to toss in a few personal things, then I’m good to go.”

“Don’t forget those tiny cocktail umbrellas,” Kelly reminded me. “Amy’s been sending me hourly reminders, as if the whole wedding will be canceled if those paper parasols aren't perfectly arranged along the aisle.”

“Oh, trust me, she’s mentioned it.” I sighed. “At least ten times.”

Amy was the bride that Kelly sold me to.

For the past week, I’d been on nonstop calls with her and Isaac.

the groom, picking up where their previous planner had left off.

Between sorting through contracts, confirming bookings, packing my entire life into cardboard boxes because yes, I'd impulsively decided to move and repeatedly reassuring everyone that, yes, the wedding was still happening, I’d barely had time to breathe, let alone think about anything else.

After Kelly finished relaying Amy’s extensive rundown of reminders, I ended the call and resumed packing. Not long after, the doorbell rang. The moment I opened the door, I was swept into the kind of rib-crushing, lung-emptying hug only Kelly could give equal parts affection and attempted murder.

“I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” I hugged her back tightly. It had been a month since we’d seen each other. After dad passed away, Kelly had made a habit of dropping by regularly, making sure I was still eating, still breathing, still alive.

“You better have. I didn’t drive five hours just to have my best friend not miss me,” she teased, grinning as she glanced around at the half-packed boxes. “Need help?”

“First of all, you didn’t drive,” I corrected her. “You spent half the bus ride scrolling Instagram and probably slept through the rest. But yes, I missed you, and yes, I’m absolutely taking you up on that offer.” I pointed her toward my half-packed personal items, then headed to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, I'd finished packing up the kitchen essentials—a coffee mug, the coffeemaker, and a handful of utensils, but still, not a peep from Kelly.

Was she still packing?

There wasn’t even that much stuff left to sort. Curious, I wandered back into my room and found her cross-legged on my bed, hunched intently over my brown Cryptex box, spinning the dials with the intensity of someone attempting to crack a bank vault.

Damn it!

Damn it!

“Thank God you came.” She looked up sharply.

“I was two seconds from hunting you down for the password. I’ve twisted every stupid dial, and this thing still won’t open.

” She pressed the box to her ear and shook it vigorously.

The rattling inside sent my anxiety skyrocketing. “What the hell is inside—”

I lunged forward, grabbing the box so fast it startled her.

“It’s…it’s nothing. Just some old stuff,” I said quickly, my fingers gripping the box tightly, the weight of five-year-old memories pressing into my palm. My secret. The only thing I'd ever hidden, even from Kelly, had been quietly collecting dust inside this box.

“Old stuff?” She eyed me suspiciously.

“Something childhood related,” I said, trying to sound as boring as possible.

Her eyes sparkled instantly. “Now, I definitely need to see what's in there.”

Wonderful!

I’d just handed her a shovel to dig up my grave.

“Come on, Kel. We can look at it later,” I urged. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll probably reach Orange Falls around midnight.”

“Fine. I’ll come back to this later,” she said reluctantly, sighing. I let out a breath of relief. With Kelly, later usually meant never, as long as the box stayed safely out of her sight. Her goldfish memory had become my saving grace.