Chapter 4 Jude #3
Henry laughs handsomely while I continue to lurk next to them like a tree with anxiety issues. “No, definitely not. For one, my pockets aren’t that deep, and two, a place like this deserves better than a bachelor with a secret Bagel Bites addiction.”
At this, Gracie’s lips quirk into an almost-smile, and an unexpected twinge of jealousy has me speaking up for the first time. “Henry is my best friend. He’s also the probate lawyer handling the transfer of the estate. Henry, this is Gracie Holland, Larkwood’s wedding planner.”
“Don’t you mean ex–wedding planner?” she says, leveling me with a gaze sharp enough to slice through my button-up. “Or have you decided that you actually care about preserving your grandmother’s legacy?”
Henry shoots me a nervous look. Some small, rational part of my brain is shouting at me not to take her bait. But all my hurt, grief, and anger roar louder, and I may as well be a dragon she just poked directly in the eyeball.
“The responsibility of preserving my grandmother’s legacy is exactly that: mine. And while you may think you knew her, I’d thank you for trusting that I was a little closer to her than an employee.”
At this, Gracie stands straighter, the light flush of her cheeks deepening to a color so pretty, I notice it even in my state of ire. Until she says, “That’s funny, because I only ever heard her refer to you as the ‘grandson who doesn’t visit enough.’ ”
Her words burrow deep as daggers, and I struggle to recover.
She has no idea. No idea how difficult it is for me to even stand in this house’s shadow, let alone enter it.
She has no idea how cowardly I felt every time I turned down an invitation to visit, or how the shame of every missed opportunity now drags behind my every step.
She goes on. “If you were actually close with Agatha, then you wouldn’t be dismantling everything she worked so hard to establish.”
At this, the guilt she stoked in me at the memorial burns to life, but my fury flares hotter.
I step closer, nonnegotiable anger urging me forward until she has to tip her head back to look at me.
“You think I don’t know that she loved turning this place into a wedding venue?
” I bite out. “Of course she did. She was sentimental and lonely, and frankly, it was good business.” Her eyes go wide and indignant, but I keep going, unable to stop.
“But if there’s any silver lining about her passing, it’s that I can finally find a use for Larkwood that doesn’t feed some commercialized fantasy of Happily Ever After. ”
She blinks, unable to hide the hurt my words have inflicted.
My guilt is instant, even if everything I’ve said is true.
Considering the current divorce rate, it’s ludicrous that people spend so much on a single day they’ll probably have to legally untangle down the line anyway.
In my admittedly unpopular opinion, the wedding industry is a callous, exploitative machine, and hopeless romantics like Gracie just perpetuate it. And no, I’m not fun at parties either.
“Well, at the very least, now I know who I’m up against,” she says, staring at my face like she’s finally got the right measure of me, and it isn’t impressive.
“You mean the most qualified person to make decisions regarding the estate?” I clarify.
“I was going to say the Scrooge of weddings, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Ebenezer,” she tosses at me.
From my left, Henry snorts, and Gracie and I both startle, having totally forgotten his presence. Gracie looks flustered and says, “Anyway. If you aren’t here to frog-march me out of my home yet, then I’m going on my run. Henry, it was nice to meet you.”
And with one last glare at me, she takes off.
In an effort not to run after her to either argue some more or grovel, I turn to Henry, who’s covering his grin with his fist. At the look I give him, he lowers his hand, forcing his face into a semineutral expression he’s able to maintain for less than three seconds.
“Well, it’s a good thing you handled that so tactfully. Really could’ve screwed yourself if—”
“Please shut up,” I groan, turning to walk back to the house.
He falls into step beside me, still grinning. “You know, I’m more than happy to take over negotiations, Ebenezer.”
“No,” I snap. “Just let me deal with it.”
Henry gets to the door first and opens it for me, but mutters, “Just trying to help, man.”
I exhale, digging a hand into my hair. “I’m sorry. I know.”
“Look,” Henry says as he closes the door behind him. “It’s obvious you’re both hurting over Agatha. Use that, Jude. Connect over your mutual loss instead of bickering over who knows what’s best for Larkwood.”
“But I do know what’s best.”
Henry sighs, grabbing his folio from the kitchen island and walking toward the exit. “Good luck, Judy. Text when you need me to save your hopeless ass.”
He walks away without waiting for a response, hand lifted in a wave. Miserably, my gaze swings to the window, looking at where Gracie literally ran away from me.
Earning her trust again won’t be easy. But if I want any chance of getting that cottage, I’ll need to find a way back to her good side—even if it’s just a sliver of a ledge that I’m destined to keep falling off.