Epilogue
Beatrix
Two Months Later
“Was that Ella Fieldstone?” PJ asks, coming up behind me as I say goodbye to a guest outside the inn.
“Yup. She’s thinking about having her wedding here in a few months. We just toured everything. I think she liked it.”
The inn has been booked solid since we opened, and we have weddings practically every weekend through the fall. If I thought I was good at multitasking before, having a husband and a baby and a busy job has pushed me to new levels. Gotta admit, I couldn’t love it more.
PJ pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through social media as we walk toward the old brown barn. “She’s engaged to Jimmy Angelo, the lead singer of Catalog Twenty. Do you know that band?” Before I can answer, she pulls up a song, and it starts blaring from her phone.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“So, big celebrity wedding. That’s exciting.” PJ loves celebrity gossip almost as much as she loves wine country gossip. Almost.
The apple trees are almost all picked over, but it’s too early for summer fruit. The trees we pass on the way to the barn are leafy but mostly barren. I spot one dangling apple and yank it from the tree.
“She hasn’t decided yet. He’ll probably want to see it too. Don’t get too excited.”
PJ shrugs. “Eh, he probably won’t care. I think this is, like, like his third marriage, and he’s your age.”
“How do you know all of this?” I ask, deciding whether I’m offended that she made “my age” sound ancient.
She shrugs. “It’s my job to know who’s doing what.”
“In Napa.”
“No, everywhere.”
We arrive outside the barn and follow Archer inside to grab coffee before our family meeting, which we’re having outside because the weather is so perfect. Bluebird skies, flowers in bloom, ground squirrels running beneath the vines.
“Well, I’ll let you know the second I know if Ella Fieldstone is a go, so you’ll know what she’s up to.”
“What did you just say?” Archer’s voice booms with his usual annoyance and disdain. He’s the last person likely to be wowed by an actress. He spent the year after college living in Los Angeles and says he got his fill of “model-actress-whatevers.”
PJ waves him away like a gnat. “Relax, Mr. Star-phobe. This doesn’t concern you.”
Dash comes in and grabs a mug. “Hey guys.”
Archer doesn’t answer. He shoves between PJ and me and pins his index fingers against his temples like he has a headache. “Did you say Ella Fieldstone? ”
“Yeah. She just came to look at the inn for her wedding.”
Archer shakes his head. “No. Absolutely not. She can’t have her wedding here.”
I feel my hackles shoot to attention. We each have our bailiwicks, and he can’t tell me how to run the inn. “She can if her check clears.”
“No, she can’t.”
“Why not?” PJ asks, scrolling through her feed again as though it will provide answers quicker.
“He hates her, that’s why,” Dash supplies, smiling innocently at Archer, who presses his lips together so hard they turn white.
“Why do you hate her? What did she do?” PJ asks me. I shrug.
“She’s awful,” he says.
Before we can pump him for more information, a car screams up the front drive of Buttercup Hill like it’s running from the law. Dash looks up from the coffee machine and raises an eyebrow at me. “Someone expecting a fighter jet?”
“Seriously, do we need to install a speed limit sign?” I look down at where I have Daisy swaddled against my chest. Her soft brown hair is standing up in places, and I smooth it down. Bringing her to work with me is my new way of multitasking, and she seems to love it as much as I do, cooing softly until she falls asleep.
“Do we? Do we need to do that?” My voice goes up an octave as I coo at my sweet girl, whose eyes blink open at the sound of my voice before she falls back asleep.
“You’re ridiculous,” Archer says. “If you caught me doing the baby talk thing, you’d be laughing your ass off.”
“Not if the baby was as cute as this one,” I coo, just for emphasis. I’m treated to an eye roll.
“Just glad you’re happy,” PJ says.
“So happy,” I sing.
In the months since she was born, the Otters have won their first playoff games, and Ren feels optimistic about their chances of going all the way. His playoff beard is already looking healthy, which only makes me want him more.
The pregnancy hormones have converted into maternal hormones, and I’m just as hot for him as ever. His game schedule is relentless, and so is Daisy’s sleep schedule—in other words, she’s not on a schedule at all, and I’m constantly tired. We haven’t had extended time together at my house, where we’re living, but that will change when the season ends. We’ll be working on the renovation of his house and sleeping at mine until it’s finished. As long as we’re together at the end of every day, my heart will be full.
Then again, I’ll be planning our summer wedding, so there will never be a dull moment.
Dash and I leave the staff lunchroom of the old brown barn to find the source of the noise, only to see our half brother Graham slam the door to his truck. Jax gets out the other side and stomps toward us with a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“We just came from the fire inspector’s office.” Graham waves the pages around.
“This again?” Archer comes down from his office, clearly alerted by the car noise. “And you should learn to drive, by the way.”
“Sorry. I was in a hurry to tell you what they found.” Graham starts pacing and shoving a hand through his hair.
“Dude, relax. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
Graham starts shaking his head. Or maybe he’s just shaking—it’s hard to tell, given how wound up he is.
Jax shakes his head. “You’re definitely not gonna think that when you see the findings. Someone was hired to start the fires, and he’s already been apprehended.”
“That seems like a good thing.” I look down at Daisy to make sure all the commotion hasn’t woken her, but she’s still out cold, snuggled against me.
“Not when you see who hired him to commit arson.” Graham nudges Jax, who hands the pages to Archer. “Unless we’re reading something wrong, the one who paid him was our dad.”
“Wait, what?” Dash asks, looking over Archer’s shoulder at the pages.
“Yup,” Graham says, pushing his hands into his pockets and finally calming down a bit.
Jax chimes in, sounding more reasonable. “That’s what it looks like. He paid someone to set fire to Buttercup Hill. Then the wind took it next door. Bottom line, it looks like Dad tried to torch this place.”
“But why? For insurance money?” I ask.
“Maybe it’s his dementia. Maybe he didn’t know,” Dash says.
The air hangs heavy around us as we try to read over Archer’s shoulder for any shred of explanation. Archer looks at the sky before throwing the pages in the air. “Fuck!” he shouts. “Like this day couldn’t get any worse.”
Almost on cue, my phone buzzes, and I walk a few paces away from my family to take the call. When I return, I share the news. “Ella Fieldstone loved the inn. She’s a yes. Her wedding is going to be at Buttercup Hill.”
Archer looks at me with a scowl, and I know the next few months are going to be very interesting.
Thank you so much for reading Beatrix and Ren’s story—I hope you fell for the cinnamon roll hockey hottie!