Chapter Thirteen
Rosie
Rosie spread a tablecloth on one of the eight tables set up around her backyard, keeping a close eye on the few dark clouds
overhead that punctuated the sky like shadowy specters haunting an otherwise perfect day.
She hosted these events once every few years, but that was more than sufficient. Every time, she forgot how much work they
involved, though she wasn’t responsible for anything but providing the venue and contributing a potluck item.
Rosie didn’t consider herself an overly social person. While she enjoyed her book club and the occasional dinner out with
friends, she was mostly happy here in her garden or with her books.
Still, these neighborhood parties were always enjoyable. They were a great opportunity for her to keep up with things happening
in their small town, to connect with neighbors and friends she only saw in passing.
Even hosting it wasn’t particularly onerous, when she really thought about it. How hard was it to straighten up her yard and
set up these tables and chairs other neighbors had been dropping off throughout the week?
“Are these for the tables?” Emma asked as she carried out a tray of vases holding simple flower arrangements Rosie had put
together from her garden.
“Yes. That’s the plan. There should be a few extras. They can go on the food table.”
This would be Emma’s first neighborhood party, her first social gathering of any sort, since she had returned to town. How would Rosie’s neighbors accept this prodigal daughter who had finally returned to the fold?
She had no idea. She could only keep her fingers crossed that people would be welcoming to Olive and Emma.
She didn’t really have misgivings about that. Most of the people who lived in and around Wood Briar were kind and generous.
There were always a few outliers, unfortunately, strongly opinionated folks who seemed to think they knew what was right and
proper for everyone else in their sphere of influence.
“What time will everyone be here?” Emma asked.
“In about an hour. Thanks so much for coming home early from the bookstore to help me set up. I know you’re in the middle
of a hundred different things.”
“They will all be there tomorrow, too. If I had stayed late again, I’m not sure how much I would have gotten done anyway.”
Her daughter looked tired, with circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier in the week. Rosie gave her a look of
concern. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard you moving around pretty late. Did you have trouble sleeping?”
Emma gave a tight smile. “I’m fine. I have a lot on my mind right now.”
“The bookstore refresh?”
“That’s a big part of it.”
“Was Bryce there late last night?”
Emma looked away. “Not too late. We didn’t end up painting but he took about half of the shelving units to work on at home
in his spare time. And, yes. I tried to talk him out of it without much success.”
“Bryce can be stubborn when he wants to be.”
“I am beginning to figure that out. Thanks again for taking care of Olive last night.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome. I love having her here.”
Rosie slanted a look toward the sandbox she had created by pouring bags of sand inside an old tent. Olive seemed to adore
it.
Gary probably would have called it silly to put a sandbox in the yard when they lived right next to a beach full of miles
and miles of sand, but Rosie adored the idea of a tent sandbox so that Olive could have a covered place to play, even if the
weather was bad.
Sylvia had seen the idea on social media and immediately suggested it for Olive. Now Rosie’s mother sat outside the tent opening
in her favorite lawn chair, chattering away to her great-granddaughter.
“How many people are you expecting tonight?” Emma asked as she set out biodegradable plates, napkins and utensils on one of
three tables set out for food.
Rosie held up her hands. “Maybe two hundred. It’s hard to know for sure, especially in the summer. People come and go.”
Emma blinked. “Two hundred people. And you all do this several times a year?”
“Yes. Everyone enjoys them.”
“Where do you have them in bad weather?”
“We always schedule out a year in advance and reserve the community center in town as a backup.”
“Smart.”
“It’s not as formal as it may seem. We try not to make a big deal about it. Everyone brings potluck salads and desserts and
we all donate a few dollars for the main dish, which is usually pretty basic in the summer. Grilled brats, burgers, chicken
breasts. Don’t worry, we always have a few meatless options too. We have plenty of vegetarians in the neighborhood.”
“Good to know.”
“Looks like somebody’s here early,” Sylvia called.
Rosie turned in time to see a small late-model luxury convertible heading up her driveway.
“The party’s not supposed to start for an hour. Are you expecting a friend to help you set up?” Emma asked.
Rosie shook her head. “No. That’s just Pam. She’s dropping off a few papers for me to sign for one of our projects that needs
an extension on the building loan.”
For some reason, Emma’s mouth drew into a tight line. Her eyes suddenly seemed as hard as agates as she watched Pam walk toward
them.
Pam, as usual, was stylishly dressed, with perfect makeup and not a hair out of place. Rosie always felt a bit frumpy next
to her. Still, she was beyond grateful for Pam’s dedication to the company.
“I need to go in and work on my salad,” Emma said, her voice suddenly flat. “Is Olive okay out here?”
Rosie gave an airy wave. “Totally fine. Your grandma and I will keep an eye on her.”
Emma hurried into the house without even taking time to say hello to Pam, whom she had known most of her life.
Rosie frowned after her but didn’t have time to do more than wonder at her strange behavior before Pam reached her.
“Your yard looks fantastic, as always,” Pam said, looking around with admiration at the flower beds and the winding gravel
paths that led to Sylvia’s charming little cottage, the chicken coop, the gardening shed. “I honestly have no idea how you
do it. You make me sorry I only have a boring old condo instead of all this gorgeous space.”
“I enjoy it.”
Rosie didn’t bother telling Pam that working in the yard was therapy of sorts for her, a way to unwind after long hours at work.
“And I always forget what a fabulous view you have from here.”
Rosie looked out at the ocean she could see beyond her yard. She never tired of watching the clouds roll in or the sun setting
on the waves.
“Are you staying for the barbecue?” Rosie asked.
“Not tonight, sorry. Tony and I are heading into Lincoln City for a concert at one of the casinos.”
She named a group that Rosie remembered as being popular when she was younger. “Oh, are they still together?”
“Reunion tour, apparently. It should be fun. I went to see them when I was in high school. I think I got high just from the
secondhand pot smoke. Now I’m sure the audience will smell like arthritis medicine and heart disease.”
Rosie laughed. “No doubt.”
Pam held out a manila envelope. “I only need two signatures and three initials. I’ve put stickies on the spots for you.”
Efficient, as always. Rosie scanned the papers to be sure all was in order then quickly signed the indicated spots.
“Thanks for dropping them by.”
“No problem,” Pam said. “I should have had you sign them in the office yesterday but I was so worried about Phoebe it slipped
my mind.”
“Any improvement?”
“Yes, actually, or I would have called off the whole concert. She is doing much better today.”
“Oh good.”
She and Pam chatted a bit longer before her friend excused herself to get ready for her date and with a breezy wave, headed
out again.
Rosie found Emma in the kitchen, slicing cucumbers for a salad with unsettling vigor.
Every line of her daughter’s body seemed tense. Rosie frowned, wondering what she might have said or done to upset her now.
Not everything was about her, she reminded herself. Emma had the right to be upset about things that had nothing to do with
Rosie.
“Is something wrong?” she finally asked as she took out the fruit plate she had prepared earlier.
Emma opened her mouth as if to answer then gave a slight shake of her head.
“No,” she said, clearly lying. “Everything’s fine. It’s been a long day.”
“If you’re too tired for the party, don’t worry about it. People will understand.”
“I’m looking forward to it. This will be fun.”
Emma still seemed distracted over the next hour but she seemed to throw herself into the party preparations, even after people
started to trickle into Rosie’s yard.
Most neighbors walked, since everyone invited lived within a few blocks of her place, but a few of the older residents with
mobility needs parked in her driveway.
Rosie directed them and had finished helping Polly Anthony, one of her favorite people, from her vehicle when she spotted
Andrew Morgan and his children approaching on foot from the direction of Stormhaven.
To her surprise, Finn pulled away from the other two and rushed to her, throwing his arms around her waist. “Hi, Rosie!” he
exclaimed.
“Hi there, Mr. Finn,” she said as she hugged him back. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“Me, too. Dad says we’ll only stay a few minutes, though. Only long enough to eat and meet a few people.”
She met Andrew’s gaze and saw with amusement that he looked chagrinned at his son’s candid revelation.
“Sounds like a good plan,” she answered. “There should be plenty of good food. Thank you for coming.”
Zara smiled back, already looking around with an eagerness that told Rosie she was probably looking around for someone she
might know.
“Where’s Dottie?” Finn asked.
“She’s over with my mom in the shade there by the tent. I believe your grandmother is over there, too. That’s a sandbox, by
the way, if you’re interested.”
He looked skeptical and confused. “A tent in a sandbox? That’s weird,” he said.
“Finn,” his father said, again looking mortified at his blunt child.