Chapter 4 Eva
My feet dangle over the shallow water as I sit on the edge of the crooked dock.
With a steady heartbeat, I breathe in the crisp air and watch the ripples in the water from the slight breeze.
My hands are tucked into my coat to protect them from the cold, even though I’m wearing gloves. As I sit here and take in the serenity of Peppermint Lake, I try to process my best friend taking the biggest leap of her life.
Marriage. It’s not like I’m afraid of commitment, but marriage is huge.
Divorce is even bigger.
Not that Maddy’s marriage to Myles will end in divorce, but is forever really forever?
“Shut up, brain,” I mutter.
A dark gray frog with mottled skin suddenly appears and sits on a log floating not too far from me. He eyes me dubiously. At least, I think he’s eyeing me, but it’s hard to tell with his beady eyes.
“I’m calling you Houdini since you magically appeared out of nowhere,” I tell him. “When I move in here, I promise to find you a bigger log to chill on if you promise not to poison me.”
Houdini ribbits, then hops into the water like he’s tired of my BS already.
The natural beauty of this place gives me an escape from my thoughts.
My dream is to one day restore the old Edwardian house next to this rusted old dock, which I probably shouldn’t be sitting on, and make it my own.
People think I’m crazy, and when I say people , I mean Maddy and Billie.
The house is dilapidated, and nothing at all like the other old properties in town, which are very well maintained.
It would need so much work, but that makes me want it even more.
Every time I visit, I imagine just how beautiful the property could be with the right vision—and money.
I’ve tried to explain it to Maddy and Billie several times, the feeling that consumes me when I’m here, but they try to bring me back to reality.
Permits, demolition, construction workers who bend over and expose way too much ass crack. I didn’t think that was a thing until we needed some floorboards repaired in the store.
Some things I can never unsee.
I have my deposit saved, ready to strike when the owners who inherited the land are ready to sell. I got my realtor to reach out to them last year, but their lawyer said it was a family property, and no amount of money would make them sell. He wouldn’t tell us who owned it.
I call bullshit. How important could it be if they left it to rot all these years?
Still, I long for the day I’ll be able to get my hands on this place and officially call it mine.
My vision board has a photo of the house, one I took at the end of last year.
I promised myself this would be the year to finally follow my dreams. After spending all my time focusing on the café, I’m ready to make the next move as long as business remains steady and the bank loans me the rest of the money.
But until they’re willing to sell me the property, my small apartment will have to do.
I sit for a while longer, and as always when I’m here, time is lost on me.
My phone pings with a text.
Maddy
I’m on my way. Do we want tacos? Chinese? Pizza?
I quickly respond.
Me
Why are you even asking? All three please.
Maddy
Roger that
“Goodbye, Houdini. See you soon.” I smile as I stand, then make my way to my car to drive to my actual home.
My home is far from a mansion. It’s the exact opposite.
It’s a one-bedroom apartment above the café.
Since my whole life revolves around the café, it made sense to rent it.
Plus, it allows me to save money. The owner, Mr. Wilburn, charges me low rent in exchange for free coffee and donuts whenever he visits.
The man is too generous, always reminding me I’m the granddaughter he never had.
The complex consists of two apartments. Mrs. Sherman lives on the second floor, and she’s lived there forever.
She keeps to herself, never complains, and as far as neighbors go, I think I got lucky.
My apartment is on the third floor. Besides a living room combined with a kitchen, there’s a bathroom, a laundry alcove, and a decently sized bedroom with a walk-in closet.
There’s a view of the town church from my bedroom, not that I spend much time gazing out the window. When the bells ring, it’s close enough to wake me up from my slumber.
It’s nice, and it’s convenient, and it will do for now.
As promised, Maddy brought all three cuisines over, and now I’m in a food coma.
There’s a bottle of Pinot Grigio teasing me from my kitchen countertop. Actually, it’s two bottles, since there was a sale at the liquor store and I thought why the hell not . If I twitch my nose, maybe I’ll have some magical power to move objects… or, I can get off the couch.
Beneath the beige faux-fur throw, my warm body refuses to move.
I wrinkle my nose, only to get up anyway and take the two steps over to the kitchen to grab a bottle and two glasses. Maddy brought a Merlot, which I’m so not a fan of.
“I forgot to ask you, what did the priest say?” I question Maddy as she sinks into my sofa with a glass of red wine. My eyes watch her cautiously, since red wine and ivory fabric do not mix.
Maddy is quick to correct me: “Minister.”
“Potato, potahto,” I mumble.
“He brought up my virtue like I thought he would, so I kinda lied.”
“Maddy!” I shriek, hugging the cushion in my arms tighter. “You’re going to hell for lying to a minister.”
Maddy sighs, obviously bothered by something. Earlier today, she was bouncing around like a kid in a candy store, eager to show off her gorgeous ring and tell the world her news. Upon closer inspection, her shoulders are slumped, and her previously styled hair now looks unkempt.
“Look, I have bigger problems to solve.”
I sit up, suddenly worried. “Why, what’s wrong?”
There’s a sadness in her eyes. She shakes her head as if to fight off tears, then blurts out, “It’s just my mother—she called me before I saw the minister.
She seems less than thrilled at having to fly back here to be mother of the bride.
I get it, the whole wellness retreat or whatever the hell she’s doing, but this is my wedding. ”
The first time I met Patricia Beaumont, I was so taken by her poised manner and class. She always wore Chanel and carried herself like the queen of the castle. Not that they live in a castle, but more of an incredibly large mansion overlooking the town.
They have a maid, a gardener, and a cook, if my memory serves correct. At the time, they were the wealthiest family in Cinnamon Springs, and God forbid Mrs. Beaumont ever lifted a finger.
The woman was beautiful, there’s no arguing that. Yet, she barely spoke, always shadowing her husband. Their marriage felt forced, the complete opposite of my own parents, who enjoyed each other’s company.
I have no idea what to say, given that Mrs. Beaumont isn’t exactly maternal.
“You can’t be worried about others, Maddy. This is your day, and the only people who need to be happy are you and Myles.”
“Yes, I guess so… I just thought things would be different. I’m her only daughter. I thought she’d want to be more involved.”
Leaning forward, I place my hand on her knee and whisper, “I know it’s hard. But you can’t change her, and you’ll go crazy trying. You’re creating your new family now, and when you have kids one day, you’re going to be an amazing mother.”
Maddy nods quietly with glazed eyes. “I’m going to be a soccer mom. Hanging out with the other soccer moms while I cheer on my kids and hand out homemade baked goods to everyone around me.”
I chuckle heartily. “Sounds like a plan, though you suck at baking.”
“Yes, but you can bake for me. Do you think I need to drive a minivan to be a soccer mom? I’m not a minivan person. I don’t think it will go with my aesthetic.”
“Your aesthetic of being a mom?”
“No, like I want to be a proper mom but also hot. I don’t want to be picking up my kids in sweats with questionable hair that hasn’t been washed in God knows how long,” Maddy quips.
“Okay, you’re spiraling,” I inform her, taking a long sip of wine. “Let’s focus on getting you married. So, tell me what you have so far.”
Maddy pulls out her mood boards for the wedding.
She’s always been a girly girl, experimenting with colors and different styles but also holding a feminine touch.
It comes as no surprise most of the inspiration photos are wedding pictures with lavender and white—the flower arrangements, table settings, and even the bridesmaid gowns.
“Lavender it is,” I say with a small laugh. “You mentioned the reception is at the Grand Honey Lodge, and they’re catering?”
“Yes, Martha is the wedding coordinator at the Honey Lodge, so all that reception stuff will be taken care of.” Maddy inhales a deep breath, then releases it.
“We need to sort out the dresses, hair, makeup, cars, photographer… What else am I forgetting? Georgina, Myles’s mother, is organizing the floral arrangements and—”
“The invitations? And what budget are we working with?”
Maddy rolls her eyes. “Georgina has the invitations sorted. She said they must be handwritten by a calligrapher. As for budget, Daddy Dearest is paying, so no limit, but Myles doesn’t want to go overboard. He wants to keep it simple and intimate. Also, no swans or doves. He has a fear of birds.”
I motion for her to take another deep breath.
“Nothing that can fly and attack you, got it. If Georgina is handling the invitations, I assume she’ll keep tabs on any dietary requirements.
Also, I can speak to the caterer to make sure we have backup meals in case anyone changes their mind or forgets to inform us. ”
Across from me, Maddy stares at me with confusion. “Have you done this before?”
“Done what before?”
“Planned a wedding, duh.”
“No, but I watch a lot of TLC. And before you start, let’s not get into how much free time I have because there’s no man in my life.”