PROLOGUE #2
“I only wear them at night.” He crosses out his name and adds mine so it reads: Annie gets glasses.
“I’ll have you know, I have perfect vision. That’s why you should believe me about the otters.”
“Oh, I believe you think you saw otters.”
“Why is he such a wet blanket?” I ask Pepper.
“Imagine having to live with him,” she sympathizes. “No ice cream for breakfast. The trials I endure.”
“We were out of ice cream,” Brandon says exasperated.
I write: Pepper gets ice cream for breakfast.
My sister joins us at the table holding Edward’s hand, “It’s not exactly breakfast, but we always have ice cream with our midnight waffles,” she explains.
“You do?” squeals Pepper. “Then I have to stay up until midnight.”
***
Rain lashes against the windows of Bumble Cottage as we while away the hours eating finger food and sipping eggnog by a roaring fire.
Our New Year’s Eve parties tend to be mainly family and J.J.
—another widow like my mom and a close friend of the family.
It’s kind of a big deal that my mom invited Brandon and Pepper to this exclusive party.
But they feel like they belong. And ever since Brandon bought the park, he’s been in everyone’s good graces.
We play charades and the name game and another fun game J.J.
brought. Elinor casually sits on Edward’s lap.
The two often whisper and laugh in a way that makes my heart pang.
I’m not sure if I’m jealous that Edward has taken my spot as the most important person in my sister’s life, or that Elinor has found someone that makes her annoyingly happy.
Ever since Edward moved to Norland Park, she has been positively glowing.
The two of them just go around smiling all the time. It’s insufferable.
Alas, I have no one to blame but myself.
After all, it was because of my expert scheming that they ended up together.
The two of them canoodling on the loveseat are proof that, when I put my mind to it, Annie Greenwood can make things happen.
Here’s hoping I can use those same problem-solving skills to fix my own life.
***
A little before midnight Pepper drifts off to sleep in her dad’s arms. “If your arms get too tired,” I tell Brandon. “You can put her down in my mom’s bed.”
“Oh! Now you tell me.” He says with a hint of smile.
“They’re already killing me.” He stands up, carrying his droopy daughter, and follows me into my mom’s room on the ground floor.
By the light of one small lamp, I pull back the covers, and Brandon gently places Pepper in bed.
My heart squeezes as he pulls the covers up to her chin and kisses her forehead.
We both stand in the dark room for a moment. I’m not sure why I’m lingering.
“Were you serious about getting a job and leaving Norland Park?” he asks quietly.
“I should have done it a long time ago.”
“What are you going to do?” he asks. I guess we’re going to have this conversation now, with hushed voices in this dark room.
“I don’t know. I have few marketable skills. Maybe teach English? Maybe work in a flower shop? I don’t think I can make a living playing piano.”
“Probably not,” he agrees.
“It’s embarrassing talking to you about this.”
“Why?” he sounds a little surprised.
“Because look at you,” I wave my hands toward him. “You have your whole life figured out.”
“You think I have my life figured out?”
“Yes! You have everything I dream of—a career, a house,” I point to Pepper asleep on the bed, her hand curled against her cheek. “A beautiful daughter.”
“What about love?” Brandon asks, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d guess that would be high on Annie’s Greenwood’s list.”
“It’s at the top. But you’ve had love—you were married once. And it must have been a great love. Everyone knows you haven’t dated since your wife’s death.”
Brandon nods, his eyes unfocused the way they often are whenever someone mentions Pepper’s mom. “That doesn’t mean I have my whole life figured out.”
As we step out into the hall, we run into the others heading to the front porch to greet the new year.
“What have you two been up to?” asks J.J. with a sneaky smile. “Has my prediction already come true?”
I should have known it was J.J. The woman lives for the gossip she gleans from working the front desk at Norland Park. She doesn’t do it for the money. She’s independently wealthy and only works at the park because she loves being right in the middle of everything.
“I was helping Brandon put Pepper down to bed,” I explain. “Absolutely no kissing.”
“You should get right on that,” she nudges Brandon. “It’s good luck to kiss someone at the stroke of midnight.” J.J.’s words fill me with pleasant anticipation.
“You could, you know,” I say jokingly to Brandon, secretly hoping he’ll agree. It would be good to kiss him, just once. I’ve often wondered how Brandon would kiss: slow and tender or rough and passionate? “It would just be for tradition,” I say. “It wouldn’t have to be a big deal.”
“No,” he says abruptly, his eyes pinning me. “If I kissed you, Annie, it would be a very big deal.”
He turns quickly and walks out to the porch, joining the revelers banging pots and pans. I lean against the wall for support, feeling a little weak in the knees. If I kissed you, Annie, it would be a very big deal. Why did that one comment take my breath away more than any kiss?