Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eliza
“No legacy is so rich as honesty.”
—William Shakespeare, All’s Well That Ends Well
Sunday morning came quickly, and our driveway filled with cars for the Founder’s Day Tea. I sighed and leaned my forehead against one of my bedroom windows as I watched the guests parade down the driveway to our backyard.
Reed was officially late and hadn’t texted me all morning.
What if he didn’t come? Maybe I overdid it with the shirt and watch battery? But he did seem to like the shirt and he had smiled—sort of—at his watch with a new battery…
Then again, judging from the over-the-top outfits strolling down the driveway and around back, maybe it wasn’t enough? Since when had a tea party turned into a derby race?
I didn’t remember everyone and everything being so superficial when Grandma and Grandpa had been here to help host it.
The townspeople of Fairfield had looked one another in the eye and called each other by their first names, not their last. They’d asked questions about the “family” and not chitchatted about their high-paying jobs. I missed that kind of Fairfield.
But then a familiar old truck pulled up.
I threw open my balcony door and hurried out to the railing, squinting for a better look. Reed stepped out from under the shadow of the trees, and my heart drummed inside my chest at the way the sunlight made his dark hair glow amber.
I flew back into my room and raced down the hallway and stairs. By the time I opened the front door, he stood on the top step of our porch. He wore khakis, the shirt I bought him, and a light blue tie. “Where’d you get that?” I asked, pointing to the tie.
“I bought it after you dropped me off at my truck. Like it?” He smiled, and something hummed and zipped through me from head to toe.
“It looks great.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, stepping closer.
“Thank you.” I tugged at the skinny belt around my sunflower dress. “What’d your nana think about you coming here?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “She, um, doesn’t know yet. She and Granddad had a bit of a fight this morning. Wasn’t the right time.”
“Oh.”
“Wasn’t the right time”?
I hadn’t thought it was the right time to tell Dad, but I still did. When would the right time be for Reed?
Chill out, Eliza. Stop jumping to conclusions.
Reed held out the crook of his elbow, and I looped my arm through it before leading him down the steps toward the back of the house. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He stopped at the gate to the backyard and looked down at our arms. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean, we don’t have to walk in, like—”
“It’s absolutely okay.” I stretched up onto my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Dad did give his blessing.” Sort of.
I opened the gate and walked with Reed next to the rosebushes until he stopped short again. “Whoa,” he said, scanning the party. “This is…”
“Over-the-top.” I smoothed out the bottom of my dress. “I know.”
Our yard had a huge white striped tent in the middle, with twenty or so tables with small vases of pink and white roses on each.
Dad hired a band from Raleigh to play cheesy elevator jazz music under our gazebo.
Dozens of people milled about the grounds, many of them stopping to talk to my parents, who stood near our garden pond filled with different species of goldfish.
Bright green lily pads with deep purple flowers dotted the water.
A waiter walked by and offered Reed and me drinks in tall champagne flutes filled with natural strawberry lemonade my mother had ordered from the Brew. A fresh sprig of mint sat on top of each drink.
“Champagne glasses?” Reed asked, lifting his for a better look. “I thought this was a tea party.”
I shrugged. “Grandma always had tea, but Dad loves an excuse to call in the expensive party rentals from Clairview.” I hated how it made us look extra snobby. We had a perfectly good place downtown we could’ve used, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the lemonade.
Reed offered his arm, and I took it gratefully as we strolled toward the white tent. Gazes followed our footsteps, but with Reed next to me, I could handle them all.
“E!” Lauryn waved to me from next to one of the tent poles, where she stood with TJ, who shoved an entire cucumber sandwich into his mouth and grimaced as he swallowed it down.
I waved back and leaned in closer to Reed. “You cool if we go over there?”
“I’d much rather be near those two than the rest of these people. Just don’t tell TJ I said that,” he whispered.
I laughed.
Lauryn gave a small clap as we walked up. “Wow. You look great, Reed.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Nice tie,” TJ mumbled. The collar of his button-up was open.
“Thanks.” Reed tugged on it. “I hate ties.”
“Me too. Tossed mine under one of those tables thirty minutes ago.” He stepped closer to us. “So at what point can we sneak away from this shitsh—”
“Who’s your friend, Eliza?” an overly sweet Southern voice asked behind us.
Well, hell.