Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
VIOLET
I ’d slept so badly the night before, I’d circled back home after dropping the kids off at school. Another couple of hours had done me good. Nothing pressing had awaited me at the office in earlier hours, though the afternoon was a different story.
Forrest and Sierra were coming on-site to look at engagement party spaces. I didn’t want to be dragging when we met. They’d be getting a lot more than the ten-cent tour of our entertainment venue. I wanted to be alert—and social—during lunch.
It was 10:20 before I rolled in to the office—time to ready a pitcher of sweet tea and put out glasses in preparation for their arrival. They would come straight to the events barn, where I would walk them through showroom decor. I was also prepped and ready for my weekly check-in with Chase, which was slated for 10:30. Scratch that—I was prepared to walk through the agenda. Seeing Chase would be a different story.
For the first time since I started school, Chase had missed coming over on Saturday. All weekend, he’d been working with Forrest. It brought back all kinds of things I didn’t want to think about. Chase had been as steady as a rock in our lives—been there for us like clockwork. Now, going back to the fire service, he would surely return to working odd hours.
That wasn’t all I was dreading. Now, he would come home with a different kind of shop talk altogether. Less about the orchards and the supper club; more about the calls and the guys. The part I struggled with now was my own resentment. But resentment of what? Chase owed me nothing.
You owe him an apology.
I heard the scolding of my inner bossy voice as I slid open the door to the barn. Then, I saw that something was amiss. The lights downstairs were on, including the spotlights that illuminated the model tables on display. A light was also on in the loft, but only one—the lamp on my desk.
Curious, I made my way forward, across the showroom floor, and up the stairs. As my desk came in to view, my stomach flipped. Sitting upon it was one of the largest bouquets of flowers I had ever seen. The winsome array was rich in my favorite color, which Chase always joked was a bit on-the-nose given my name. I was underwhelmed by actual violets. But I loved the smell of lavender and purple roses, and I adored the look of snapdragons and bells of Ireland and green button spray mums.
These could only be from one person. If I had any doubt as to his identity, the plate of cinnamon rolls next to the vase gave it away. No one had ever sent me apology flowers and it stole my breath a little. As did the handwritten note propped up on the vase. On it were written the two words I had felt deeply myself. Seeing it released fears I’d been holding on to—fears that things would never be the same. I didn’t like fighting with Chase and we didn’t do it often. I just wanted us to be us again.
The rolling slide of the same barn door I’d just recently walked into sounded from downstairs, along with the jingle of Jameson’s tags. My heart lifted to see that it was Chase. He stopped in the middle of the showroom floor and looked upward, catching my gaze.
“You found your flowers?”
I nodded. “And your note. Chase. I’m sorry, too.”
He came up the stairs hastily, taking them two at a time and greeted me with a hug that didn’t feel customary. This one lasted longer, with him holding me tighter and sighing into my hair. I didn’t know how much I’d needed this comfort—needed to feel the energy to flow between our bodies to tell me it would all be okay.
We pulled back after a long minute and he offered an impish smile.
“You sharing those cinnamon rolls?” he asked.
“You mean my favorite ones that you baked?”
“The ones that are still warm from the oven.”
I smiled slyly. “I think there’s milk in the fridge.”
I liked mine with coffee. He liked his with a cold glass of two percent.
“I think there’s cold brew in there, too.”
Cold brew that hadn’t been there yesterday.
“You know me too well.”
It came out sentimentally, so much so that he held my gaze. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Jameson, who had followed Chase upstairs, suddenly turned tail and dashed back down. Before another word could be said, the heavy barn door slid open. I swung my gaze toward it in time to see Forrest and Sierra step inside with Everest, their Bernese mountain dog. They laughed at the sight of Jameson rushing them.
“Hey, we’re up here!” I called from the loft, smiling down at our friends. “Come on up! Chase made cinnamon rolls.”
Forrest wasted no time heading toward the stairs. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“So tell me about the proposal,” I implored Sierra as we strolled, elbows linked, twenty feet in front of Chase and Forrest. Eager to walk off our cinnamon rolls, we’d decided to start with the tour. They already knew the scenic orchard road where we served dinner at The Noble Pig. Weather-wise, that would be risky for late fall, which left us mostly with indoor spaces, or a few outdoor ones that could be set up with heaters and tents.
Out of all the firefighter wives, I liked Sierra the most. By day, she was a ranger at Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Being a uniformed official herself, she knew how to wrangle the kind of men who she and Forrest worked with. Watching her take down unworthy opponents was a true delight.
“He proposed to me on our meadow…” Sierra was starry-eyed.
“The two of you have a meadow?”
Sierra nodded. “It’s a secret meadow in the park—a place where we like to go, you know, for picnics. We’d been there for a while, on our picnic blanket, just lying down and relaxing. Then, he told me Everest was getting restless and wanted to play fetch. He tricked me into standing up to throw her a ball. When I turned back around, he was on one knee. He even got Everest in on it. When she came back, he said, ‘Come on, girl. Ask Momma.’ He’d taught her to lift up one paw and cock her head.”
Both of us erupted into giggles.
“He sure knows how to pick a ring.” I’d been admiring it since she’d walked in the door. It was hard not to notice: at least two carats—cushion cut—set up high on a simple platinum band. Smaller pavé diamonds elevated the crown and flattered her slender fingers and elegant hand.
“Honestly?” She gazed down at it. “I didn’t think of myself as the kind of girl who was into fancy jewelry. Now, I hate taking it off.”
“I wouldn’t want to, either.” I threw her a knowing glance.
She returned it with a softer one. “Was it hard? Not wearing your wedding rings?”
That was another thing I’d always appreciated about time I spent with Sierra. She never walked on tenterhooks around me, or avoided asking questions about Todd.
“Todd and I didn’t have real rings.” I smiled at the recollection. “We just eloped one night. In Las Vegas while we were already there. We flew in for my friend’s wedding. By the time we left, we were married ourselves.”
Sierra dropped her jaw in a way that made me smile more widely at her response. “Please tell me you did not let Elvis marry you.”
“I did not let Elvis marry me,” I parroted back.
She narrowed her eyes, as if suspecting trickery. Forrest called from behind us, “She’s lying!”
Sierra stopped short and looked at me with wide eyes. “You got married by an Elvis?”
The guys caught up to us and Chase chimed in. “It would all make sense if you’d known Todd.”
“He was the life of every party.” Forrest slung his arm over Sierra’s shoulder. “He came up with the wackiest schemes, and he’d somehow convince you to do them. Brought fun with him everywhere he went.”
“And you were never mad about it,” Chase said. “You never woke up the next day like, ‘why the hell did we go along with Todd last night?’ He was just charismatic, and a shitload of fun.”
“So, wait…” Sierra turned to me. “You’re telling me you never had a big wedding and you never had a big ring, and now you’re a wedding planner?”
“Technically, yes.” No one else had ever said it out loud, but there was no point in denying it.
Sierra looked stricken. “And you never wanted one yourself?”
I didn’t know how to answer. My wedding had been spontaneous, and romantic, and the two of us had been in love. It had held its own perfection. But Forrest was right about how Todd had been. He’d had a special kind of charisma that made people want to follow his lead. And I’d been more vulnerable to his charm than anyone else.
“Maybe,” I hedged, relieved that we were nearing the venue we called the red barn. “But that doesn’t diminish how much I love doing what I do. If I did, how would I create this?”
I opened the door with a flourish to reveal the setup space inside. This afternoon, we were hosting a small wedding—one with a similar number of guests as Sierra and Forrest planned to host. Showing them this space now would let them see what it looked like fully decorated, with tables, and finishes, and florals.
Raising kids and working odd hours didn’t exactly go together. My event setup process was a well-oiled machine. Over the years, I’d come to rely on a small handful of trusted vendors who knew the ins and outs of every space. I also had an hourly employee who came in before each event to check that everything was right—that it met the high standard I expected. As usual, it did.
Sierra actually gasped as her gaze began to wander. “Vi.” She shook her head. “This is exquisite.”
The room had been set up in the style of a banquet, with connected tables forming long rows. White bunting draped airily from the rafters to create a sense of magic in the space. In place of centerpieces, a wide path of flowers ran down the middle of each table—runners made of lilacs and white roses and green leaves the color of sage. Light, wooden cross-back chairs painted rustic white gave it an air of country chic, as did the heirloom plates and flatware. Small crystal chandeliers had been dropped from the ceiling at intervals over the table. It was amazing what a little lighting could do.
“Engagement parties are more understated than weddings.” My voice went quiet, honoring the sacred feeling of the space. “If this seems more formal than what you need, don’t worry—it can be toned down.”
Forrest and Sierra pushed farther inside, volleying ideas as they continued their slow stroll. As usual, I gave the couple space to discuss their vision.
Chase fell in next to me and remarked without confrontation, “See why I don’t want you to quit?”
Later that day, staring out my office window, echoes of the visit stayed with me. Sierra and Forrest had chosen the red barn for their affair. I met with couples in love every day, but touring with them had been different—it had taken me down memory lane.
Chase being there had snapped things into a different focus. With every venue we’d viewed, he’d described how I had transformed the space, adding my design sense to defunct areas of the farm and “making magic.” Chase had always liked to flatter me, but it felt like more than that. I couldn’t deny the reverence in his voice.
And it wasn’t just the way Chase talked about me that gave me all the feels. Now that I was leaving, it was bittersweet to look back at all I’d done—to be reminded of how little of this had been here three years ago when Chase had given me a job. I was firm in my decision to strike out on my own. But it was only just starting to dawn on me—how hard it would be to walk away from all I’d built.
And then there was Forrest and Sierra, taking us through their own memories of the farm—how they’d come to The Noble Pig as their first official date; how they’d listened to bluegrass music while Sierra had leaned in to Forrest and he’d held her with his arm around her shoulder; how they’d seen fireflies by the lake and shared their first kiss.
All of it was messing with my mind. It made me want what they had. Our slow, strolling perusal made me remember all the beauty of the farm and how much I would miss it once I left. Us not fighting anymore made me not want to leave Chase. It had been nice, walking next to him, our friends and the two dogs our companions as we shared our own stories of the farm. In the sweetest moments, it felt like ours.
Except it isn’t ours.
That was what I had to keep reminding myself. Wanting it too much was why I had to leave.
Now, back in my office, it was time to close up shop; to walk Jameson back up to Chase’s house; to go home and play with my kids and help them with their homework and—after I put them to bed—to take out my planner and start working on my business. I had just zipped my phone into my purse and started down the stairs when it began to ring and buzz. No matter how recently I had put away said phone, finding it again was always a fishing expedition.
“Hello?” I managed to pick up on the last ring before it would have been sent to voicemail.
“Well, hello, gorgeous. It’s Rodney. I just got back from my trip.”
“Oh!” I hoped I sounded more excited than astonished. “How was it?”
With all the changes that were happening on my end, I had all but forgotten about him. Had it already been two weeks?
“Transformative, as usual. When you’re in the bush, it’s hard not to feel the pulse of life. I never mind giving over my time in service of those gorgeous creatures. We poached the poachers, if you know what I mean.”
I did not know what he meant, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But more pressing matters were at hand, like the fact that the guy who I hadn’t expected to hear back from was actually calling.
“I thought about you.” His voice lowered a little. “I’d like to take you out again, maybe something more traditional. We could go to Knoxville and grab a beer.”
I hadn’t given too much thought to whether I wanted to see Rodney again. I didn’t dislike him, but I didn’t feel a spark.
For one, he talked a lot and seemed pretty into himself. But a lot of men were like that. Maybe this was just par for the course. And I wasn’t even really looking for a relationship, so maybe I didn’t need to like him. Maybe I just needed to remember how to put myself out there—to make conversation and get to know another person.
There was one thing I knew I liked: he hadn’t been all over me physically, or looked at me in that wolfish way men sometimes did. I liked that he seemed to want to take things slow. That was what I had to keep reminding myself: I wasn’t looking for a new husband, I was looking for a path forward in my own life.
“I’d love to,” I blurted, before I could think about it too hard. There were other reasons why I had to do this. It was like Jules said—I couldn’t just keep on canceling dates. And I’d never have what Forrest and Sierra had if I never put myself out there. Fake it ’til you make it had to be my new M.O.
“Perfect. I made reservations for Saturday.”
Jeez. Presumptuous much?
“Saturday sounds great.” I kept my voice light and chided myself to give him a chance.
“I can’t wait to see you, Violet.” Rodney said my name with affection. “I’ll pick you up at six.”