Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
“LOSING YOUR WIFE must have come as such a shock,” Deckard said.
Nick took a sharp inhale, then released it. “It was a terrible shock.”
“Had she displayed any symptoms in the days leading up to her death?” Harper couldn’t stop herself from asking.
So many questions rattled her brain, but she needed to wait for the right time for each one to be asked, and she definitely needed to space them out so Nick wouldn’t feel pressured or grow curious about why she was asking.
Just a friend wanting to understand. That’s how she’d play it.
“No signs.” Nick shook his head. “She played tennis that morning. The EMTs said the strain on her heart might have been too much.”
Taylor played tennis all the time and never had a problem.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me.” Nick turned for the back of the house and the dining room. “I’m going to add these cookies to the table. You two make yourselves at home,” he called behind him.
She elbowed Deck and gestured toward the fire pit out back with plenty of open seats.
“You grab your coat,” Deck said. “I’ll grab us each a warm drink.”
“Deal.” Retrieving her evergreen overcoat from the rack, and Deck’s black denim jacket, she headed for the sliding doors.
“Want anything to eat?” Deck asked as she passed back by him.
“I’m not really hungry right now.” Her stomach was still bobbing. “But the hot drink sounds great.”
“You got it.” He winked, and she smiled. She so wished Taylor could have met Deck. She would have loved him.
She moved on to the sliding door, and Susan caught sight of her and waved. She waved back and noted George, Nick’s frat buddy out there. Joy. He was such a pleasant man.
Stepping outside, she grabbed a blanket off a table laden with them and moved to sit beside Susan. Before she could sink into one of the Adirondack chairs, Susan stood and enveloped her in a giant hug. She smelled of the sweet scent of Taylor’s favorite perfume—lavender, cassia, and honeysuckle.
“Serene Secrets?” Harper asked, noting the scent.
“Yep.” Susan wiped tears from her eyes. “Taylor had the company ship me a bottle just last week. She was always so thoughtful with little gifts.” She sniffed.
“She sure was.” Always tiny, wrapped surprises in tissue paper with pastel ribbon curled into loops.
Taylor loved giving far more than she liked receiving.
Such a generous soul. At least that was a consolation—Taylor knew Jesus.
She was in heaven with their Savior, and it wasn’t truly good-bye.
It was see you in a while. That made it bearable. Not easy, but bearable.
“Come sit down,” Steve said, patting the open seat next to Susan. “Wrap that blanket tight around you. Even with the fire, it’s chilly.”
“But it’s too crowded in the house for us,” Susan added as she retook her seat.
Sinking into the patio chair brought a wealth of memories swooping over Harper. All of the parties Taylor threw—birthdays, holiday celebrations, weekend barbecues—all spent out here. It was hard to wrap her head around it all. It seemed too surreal.
“You okay, honey?” Susan asked, patting her on her knee.
Harper nodded as tears stung her eyes. She fluttered her lashes, hoping to dash them away, but they fell all the same.
Deck managed to exit the door holding two plates, each balancing a steaming cup.
He caught her gaze, and his eyes softened—blue with the sexiest crease lines.
Should she even be thinking sexy at a remembrance ceremony?
Though, she imagined, it was just a factual statement.
Just like he had a cowboy face—rugged jaw, sun-weathered skin, and eyes that popped compared to his almost-perpetual tan.
It was hard to believe he’d only lived that lifestyle since he’d become an adult. It felt so intrinsic to who he was.
“Here you go.” He handed her a cup of steaming something.
She lifted it up, inhaling the swirling vapor. Apple cider with cinnamon sticks. Yum. Next, he handed her a plate. “What’s this?”
“Nick’s mom’s homemade apple cobbler. She insisted I bring you some.”
She smiled. Of course Dorothy had. She loved Nick’s mom.
Just the man himself she wasn’t wow on. But she had to gain a neutral stance.
She was going in too hot and too strong to be truly observant.
She’d miss the forest for the trees—by focusing on all the little things rather than the overarching picture.
“Who’s your friend?” Susan asked with a smile.
“Oh, sorry. This is Deckard MacLeod.” How she wished she could say something far more personal, but she let that drop too.
“Nice to meet you,” Susan greeted Deck.
Steve finished his sip of whatever he was drinking and nodded a greeting. He wiped his mouth of . . . chocolate?
“Let me guess. Aunt Rose?” Harper asked. His aunt was famous for her homemade hot cocoa, and the lady was a little infamous too, but those were stories for another day.
“Yep.” Steve nodded. “Amazing as always.”
She turned to George—tall and lean with thinning brown hair. Young for thinning hair. “And this is George.”
“Nice to meet you,” George said, then shoved another bite of green bean casserole into his mouth.
Never a conversationalist.
“How do you know the family?” Deck asked.
“I went to college with Nick,” he said between bites.
“Oh nice. Where at?”
George swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Northwestern.”
“Great school.”
“It is.”
Definitely not a talker.
“I heard you moved here,” Harper said.
“Yep.”
“Oh, really.” Deck smiled. “From where?”
Was it just her, or did George seem increasingly irked by their questions?
“From Chicago.” He shoved another bite of the casserole into his mouth.
“Oh. I hope you’re enjoying it here,” Deck said.
“It’s fine.” George shrugged.
“George and Nick were in the same frat,” Susan said in between sips of her own steaming drink. “Isn’t that right?”
George nodded.
“Nick’s got a photo of them back in the day on the bookshelves in the front room. You’ll have to check it out,” Steve said. “They all had the 2010 hairstyles.” He chuckled.
“Nick always talks about the frat like those were his glory days,” Susan added.
“Because they were,” George said, grabbing his plate and getting to his feet. “I’m heading inside. Nice to meet you.” He gave a chin lift to Deck.
Harper waited until the sliding door shut behind him. “He’s not what you’d deem the friendly sort.”
“You’ll have to excuse George,” Steve said, poking his food around with his fork. “This has got to be a really bad reminder for him.”
“Bad reminder?” Harper leaned forward.
“Of his wife.” Steve set his half-empty plate of food on the arm of his chair.