Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ISLA
“And we’ll have the string quartet here during dinner,” Lucille is saying as she gestures around the lodge at Everton Estate, the wedding planner following behind her.
“This is gonna be perfect,” Luke says, his arm draped over my shoulders. “What do you think, babe?”
“I love it,” I say. “Everton is gorgeous in the summer.”
It’s been a very busy two weeks since I got the flu. I’ve been working hard perfecting my recipes for Magnolia Day, with Grace and Charlotte as my taste testers. I’ve finally nailed down the selection of macarons I’m going to offer: dulce de leche, Earl Grey tea, raspberry lemonade, blueberry basil, and peanut butter and jelly. That one was Grace’s request. She loves PB&J.
I still have to figure out what else to make. I want to keep with my theme of going to an eccentric aunt’s house for tea. Maybe Bakewell tarts? And croissants are a must—every guest at the Thorn gushes over my croissants.
The more I practice and plan, the more I have this itch to do more. To dream bigger. Maybe open my own bakery one day. But I keep those dreams private for now. One step at a time.
Today is for wedding planning. It’s nice that Luke is here, since he’s often been too busy to come to these meetings. And I know Caden is at Reggie’s working on the booths, so there’s no chance of any more awkward encounters.
Luke has suddenly been in town a lot more these past two weeks. Every night, in fact. He’s been sleeping at my place. It’s not ideal—my bed is pretty small, nothing like the California king at his apartment in the city. But I wouldn’t want to stay at his parents’ house. I do wish he wouldn’t leave dirty dishes lying around, though I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with maids.
I glance toward the mansion looming in the distance. I haven’t talked to Caden much since that weekend, except for some friendly small talk when I drop Grace off at the garage. I wonder if he’s made any progress with his mom’s case, but he hasn’t offered any information and I haven’t asked. Grace has thrown herself into learning about carpentry, and plumbing, and anything else Caden can teach her. And I’ve finally started to realize why.
Now she can help Dad out with the house. He and Grace have been doing projects around the Thorn, tackling some things that have been on the to-do list forever, like fixing the shutters on the back windows, putting fresh varnish on the banister, and sanding the Adirondack chairs in the backyard.
I turn away from the mansion just as Daisy Everton approaches us, her strawberry blonde ponytail swinging back and forth, a tray with two flutes of sparkling wine in her hands. “Hi guys,” she gushes. “Here, compliments of the estate. This is the latest vintage of our sparkling rosé. If you like it, we can serve it for the toasts at the wedding.”
I take a sip—the wine is lovely and fragrant, like peaches and strawberries, but with a delightful crispness. “Wow,” I say. “Daisy this is fantastic. What do you think?” I ask Luke.
He takes a big swig and shrugs. “Whatever my queen wants,” he says. His arm tightens around my shoulders.
Lucille sweeps over to us, clearly finished with her instructions. Daisy smiles at her.
“Hello Mrs. Richards,” she says cheerfully. “Is there anything I can help with? We’ve hosted lots of weddings here at Everton Estate and we’re so pleased this is where Luke and Isla have chosen?—”
“No, no, I’ve got it all planned out,” Lucille says brusquely. She eyes the glass in her son’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a sparkling rosé from Everton,” I say. “It’s really good.”
Lucille takes Luke’s glass and sniffs it. She frowns. “No, this won’t do at all. Carla!” The wedding planner scurries to her side. “We’ll need Dom. Lots of it. And for white let’s do Sancerre and for the red…oh a Rioja would be lovely.”
Daisy does her best to hide her disappointment, but I feel a pinch of irritation.
“We have to have at least one wine from Everton,” I say. “I mean…we’re getting married here.”
Lucille narrows her eyes. “We do not have to do anything, dear,” she says tartly. “Luke, how do those options sound to you?”
“Isla is right, Mom,” Luke says. “Hey, how about we do both—we can use this for the toasts and then you can do whatever you want for the other wines.” He glances at me. “Sound good?”
“Yes,” I say, as Lucille’s mouth presses into a thin line.
“Great,” Daisy says. “Just let us know when to expect the deliveries of the other wines and we can store them here for you.”
I’ve always been impressed by her professionalism, and how she’s tackled running the tasting room at such a young age. She’s only twenty-four—the same age I was when Caden left.
We walk out onto the wide veranda that overlooks the little vineyard and I try to stifle my frustration at my future mother-in-law. Everton wines are top notch. It wasn’t like I was asking to serve Franzia.
I’m glad Luke stood up for me.
As Lucille talks to Daisy about what sort of furniture they have available for the outdoor space, there’s the sudden roar of an engine and a motorcycle speeds down the driveway, kicking up dust in its wake. It pulls up to the house and I see a familiar figure in a black leather jacket climb off it.
I turn away, my heart pounding. Since when does Caden ride motorcycles? And isn’t he supposed to be at Reggie’s? What’s he doing here?
Oh my god, Isla, he lives here, I remind myself.
“Goodness,” Lucille says with an exaggerated cough, swatting at the dust in the air. “What on earth was that?”
“Sorry,” Daisy says, her cheeks burning. “My brother just got a motorcycle.”
Luke is watching Caden with a stormy expression. I see a muscle twitch in his jaw.
“I promise that won’t be an issue on the day of the wedding,” Daisy continues. “He won’t be here then.”
“Good,” Luke says.
“Thanks so much for accommodating us on short notice,” I say to Daisy. I turn my back to the house and look up at the lodge. A thrill runs through me—I can actually see my wedding playing out here. I can see all the flowers Lucille and I have picked out, see the dress I had the final fitting for two days ago, see my friends and family gathered around, eating canapés or having a blast on the dance floor.
It hits me suddenly that it’s the end of July. The wedding is only three weeks away.
The pacing of this whole thing makes me feel a little dizzy. That’s just how Luke is, though—everything immediate, everything a whirlwind. From the extravagant trips to the last-minute yacht outings to the proposal itself. He took me to Aruba in a private jet to surprise me at sunset on a beach. Sometimes it’s the most exciting thing ever, but sometimes I just want to curl up with a mug of tea and a good book.
The afternoon wears on. We go back to the Richards’ mansion to try some more appetizers for the cocktail hour. They all taste great to me but Lucille rejects half of them. Luke seems more relaxed now that we’re at his house—at least, he stops hovering over me. When his phone buzzes, he glances at it and sighs.
“I gotta run into the city,” he says. “Work stuff.”
“Now?” I ask. Wedding planning has been more fun with my fiancé around. “It’s nearly five. And it’s Friday.”
“Isla, dear, when a man needs to work, a man needs to work,” Lucille tuts. I get that Luke’s new responsibilities are important, but I can’t see what kind of work he’d need to rush in to do on a Friday night.
“Sorry, babe,” he says, kissing my cheek. “I’m going to have to crash at mine tonight. Why don’t you come into the city this weekend? I’m getting kinda sick of Magnolia Bay.”
I try not to let the offhand comment sting.
“Sure,” I say, leaning up to peck his lips. “That sounds great.”
Luke leaves and I spend as much time as is polite with Lucille before excusing myself. I drive back to my apartment to find the cocktail dress I bought for the rehearsal dinner has arrived. I should try it on and make sure it fits.
Instead, I flop onto my couch. I’m feeling a bit wedding-ed out at the moment. What I need is some pure Magnolia Bay time. I wash my face and change into my favorite rainbow-patterned romper. Then I grab a book and my purse and head out to the Crooked Screw.
It’s bustling like usual on a Friday but there’re a couple open seats at the bar.
“Hi Isla,” Jake says, sliding a napkin in front of me. “What can I get for you?”
“Something sparkling,” I say.
“You got it. Hey, I can’t wait to check out your Magnolia Day booth this year. Mrs. Greerson won’t stop talking about it. She’s like a walking billboard.”
I grin. “I should have her stand out front to get customers.”
Jake chuckles. “The way you bake? People will be lining up.” I flush as he pours me a glass of sparkling rosé. The familiar scent of strawberries and peaches washes over me.
“Is this from Everton?” I ask.
“Yeah, just got it in yesterday.”
I bring the glass to my lips when a voice from behind startles me.
“Is this seat free?”
I turn and see Caden standing there, hair mussed, leather jacket covering his hulking form. I’ve never seen him wear a leather jacket before. It’s gives him a very bad-boy-James-Dean vibe.
“No. I mean, yeah. I mean…no one’s sitting here.” I gesture to the empty bar stool. He slips off his jacket and hangs it on a hook under the bar before he sits. He orders a beer from Jake then turns to me.
“Saw you at the lodge today,” he says.
I nod.
“Wedding’s soon, huh?”
“Yeah.”
There’s an awkward pause. Part of me is happy to see him and part of me wishes he’d gone somewhere else to get a drink. Part of me wants to insist he tell me why he left, as he was almost about to do that weekend I was sick. Part of me thinks it would be best to chug my drink and leave.
I seem to have a lot of parts at the moment, and I can’t reconcile any of them.
“So you ride motorcycles now?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth pulls up into a crooked grin. “I’m full of surprises.”
Jake puts the beer in front of him and he takes a long drink. I can’t help the way my eyes trace the length of his neck as he swallows.
“It’s nice to see the Screw doing as well as ever,” Caden says. “Hey, remember that time Reggie and Dev had their anniversary party here and Dev gave that speech full of cheese puns?”
I snort. “He still does that. I made some fresh baguettes for one of his tasting tour groups and he said they looked “gouda enough to eat.”” I roll my eyes.
Caden chuckles and he scratches the stubble that shadows his cheek. “Mom booked them a spa weekend as a gift for that anniversary,” he says quietly. “Dev shrieked so loud I though the windows would crack.”
I smile at the memory. Marion was always so generous. A truly thoughtful person. “So…how’s the case going?”
“I have a suspect,” Caden says.
“Really?” I scoot to the edge of my stool. “Who?”
“This guy who used to work for Everton. Carl Fillion. I just need to find out where he lives so I can go talk to him. I called Dad’s PI, since he offered to help, but he’s on vacation. I’ve been waiting to hear back from him for a couple weeks now.”
“That’s great, Caden,” I say. “A real lead. Wow. Did you tell Noah?”
“Yes, and he’s being extremely unhelpful. Keeps saying there are certain lines he can’t cross.” Caden huffs. “I did talk to Mrs. Greerson about the party the other day though, just to see if she noticed anything.”
“She notices everything,” I say.
Caden points a finger at me and grins. “Exactly.”
“What did she say?”
He takes out his phone and opens his Notes app. “She said: All those fluency girls—I think she meant influencers—with their poofy lips and fake tans were taking pictures of everything.”
I chuckle. “There were a lot of influencers there.”
“I looked at some of their photos on Instagram to see if anything jogged in my own memory but no dice.”
“Okay, what else?” I ask.
“She said Jake disappeared for an hour.” We both glance up at Jake, who is pouring a pint for a customer. He grimaces.
“I was looking for your Dad’s wine cellar,” he admits.
“Seriously?” Caden says.
“I can only imagine the bottles he has down there.”
“You should have asked,” Caden says. “I would have taken you down.”
Jake looks embarrassed. “You were busy. Didn’t seem appropriate. What else did Old Greerson tell you?”
Caden keeps reading. “She says she ran into Noah quote “wandering the halls” though she couldn’t say which hall exactly.”
“There are certainly a lot of them,” I agree.
“She saw Mike Cochran loudly wondering how much the Picasso in the front room cost. And Linda May was trying to sneak some of the shrimp home in her bag.”
“Ew,” I say.
“She was pretty drunk that night,” Jake says.
“Mrs. Greerson did add that she wrapped them in a napkin first,” Caden says.
“I’m not sure that makes it any better,” I say.
“And finally,” Caden finishes, “she said she saw Reggie offering advice to one of Dad’s clients about how to properly maintain his BMW.”
“Very suspicious,” I say.
“Indeed.”
I like this. I like feeling included in Caden’s investigation—I want to know what happened to Marion too. And I like that Caden and I are talking like friends again. I’ve missed that.
“So basically, Mrs. Greerson was a bust,” Caden says, putting his phone away. “I really wish Fred would call me back.”
We sip our drinks in silence for a moment. I watch the ink-drawn patterns ripple over Caden’s arm as he puts his beer down on the bar.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“You can ask me anything,” he says.
I reach out and run my fingertip over one of the vines. His skin is warm, and I can feel the hard muscle beneath. Something crackles where I touch him, and I quickly pull my hand away.
“Why did you get this?” I ask.
Caden’s lips are parted. He blinks and looks down at the spot where my hand was.
“It’s for Everton,” he says. “For my family. To memorialize the people I care about most. These grapes are cab franc. That was Mom’s favorite.” He looks up at me. “Yours too.”
My breath catches. “You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I look down at his arm and try to calm my stuttering heart.
“But what about all the bugs?” I ask.
He chuckles and I feel it like a faint tickle that shivers down my stomach into my thighs.
“Insects,” he clarifies. Then he falls quiet for a moment. “They’re cicadas. And locusts. Deathwatch beetles too. Insects that symbolize death.”
I glance up at his profile, the slope of his nose, the sharp planes of his cheekbones. His mouth is pressed into a hard line.
“For your mom,” I whisper.
He nods.
“The wildflowers are for my sisters,” he says, turning his arm to show me the tiny blooms hidden among the vines. “A daisy for Daisy, of course. A lupine for Von—they’re meant to symbolize perseverance and inner strength.”
“That’s a nice way to describe Siobhan,” I say.
The crooked grin is back. “How would you describe her?”
“Scary,” I admit and Caden laughs.
“Not sure there’s a wildflower for that.”
“What about this one?” I ask, touching a sleek hare peering through the vines.
“That’s a rabbit for Alistair,” Caden says. “They symbolize luck. With all the antics he’s gotten up to in his life, he’s lucky he hasn’t ended up in jail by now.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s luck and nothing to do with being the son of a billionaire,” I say dryly.
“Fair point.” Caden turns his arm so I can see a bird perched just above his elbow. “This is a falcon for Finn. Supposed to represent regality. God knows Finn would love to rule over us all.”
I grin. “Yeah, I think Mayor Davis is worried Finn might be gunning for his job.”
“Nah, he always had his sights set on Congress.”
“What about your dad?” I ask.
Caden’s eyes harden and he pulls his arm away. “He’s not on there.”
Before I can press him, Noah strolls up to us. “Hey guys,” he says, sliding onto the bar stool next to Caden. He looks at his best friend. “Any new leads?”
“According to Mrs. Greerson, you were wandering the halls in a suspicious manner the night of the party,” Caden jokes.
Noah chuckles. “I was using that half bathroom you have in the library to avoid waiting in line to take a piss. What else did Old Greerson tell you?”
“Reggie knows his way around a BMW,” Caden says.
“So no real suspects?” Noah asks.
“I have one, but since you are determined not to help me in any way, I’m not going to talk to you about that.”
Noah rolls his eyes and turns to me. “Caden would like to get me fired by using DMV files to get an address for him.”
“Carl Fillion?” I ask.
Noah nods. “I told him, the sheriff talked to Carl. He had an alibi. He was with his wife that morning.”
“And a wife never lied to protect her husband?” Caden growls.
“That’s fair,” Noah admits. “But I’m still not getting fired over an address. Where’s your PI at? I thought he was going to help.”
“Still on vaca—oh, hold on, that’s him,” he exclaims as his phone begins to ring. “Fred! Great to hear from you…”
My own phone buzzes, pulling me out of the conversation.
It’s Luke.
Hey babe. What are you up to?
Just having a drink at the Screw, I reply.
With who?
With my book, I write back. It’s not really a lie. I didn’t plan on running into Caden here and I certainly didn’t come to have a drink with him.
How’s work? I ask.
Fine. Gonna be a late night. Not sure if I’ll be around tomorrow.
Okay, I say. I need to work on my croissant options for Magnolia Day anyway.
Don’t worry too much about that, Luke says. Whatever you make will be a hit—and more importantly, you’re getting married in three weeks!
That’s right, I reply, adding a heart emoji for good measure. Okay I won’t keep you from work. Have a good night!
I put my phone down and feel a strange sort of dizziness. Why is this suddenly overwhelming? I’ve known this day was coming. I’ve been in planning sessions with Lucille all summer. But the reality is hitting me in a way that’s disorienting.
I tune back into Caden and Noah and realize they’re having an argument.
“You can’t just go interrogate people,” Noah is saying.
“You’re the one who told me I had to get new evidence by the end of the summer,” Caden insists. “ This is new evidence.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“It’s the best lead I’ve got and you keep throwing random rules in my face.”
“They aren’t random. Police have to follow procedure.”
“ I’m not a cop,” Caden snaps.
Noah’s face crumples. “At least don’t go by yourself. If it is Carl, as you seem so certain, it could be dangerous to confront him on your own.”
“What, you think Carl is going to shoot me?”
“That’s not funny,” Noah says. I agree. “Wait a few more days, until I have a day off and I can go with you.”
I also agree that Caden shouldn’t go by himself. I don’t know anything about police procedure, but don’t detectives work in pairs?
“I’ve been waiting for two weeks for this address,” Caden says. “I’m not waiting any longer.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel like that was probably the wrong move—Luke wouldn’t be happy about it. But I want to help. Caden deserves answers. His whole family does. Heck, this town deserves to know what happened. We are all invested in this. Marion’s death affected everyone.
“Really?” Caden says.
I nod. “I just have to take care of some things at the Thorn first.”
“Are you sure, Isla?” Noah asks.
I’m feeling a little tired of men questioning my every move.
“Yes,” I say tartly. I finish my wine in two swallows. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Caden before I head out the door.