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“Sounds like she’ll only be here for the summer while she figures some things out. I’m going to help her with repairs at the house. It’s probably best you give her space. Besides, you’re getting hitched next month. You’ve got enough on your plate with Emme and the wedding. So don’t worry, I can make sure Lacey is okay.”

He stared up at the sky and let out a long breath. I hoped the agony I perceived in him would go away. “You’re right. I’m glad I talked to you about this. Thanks.”

“Anytime. I’m always here for you.”

He gave me a final nod and walked back to his truck.

As I picked the hose back up, I couldn’t help but feel some of the weight in my chest lighten. Carson was in love with Emme. That wasn’t changing. He only thought of Lacey as a friend. But I didn’t dare let on yet that I could be something more to her.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not—every single time my eyes set on Lacey, something stirred inside of me where it hadn’t in years. I didn’t think I could ignore it any longer.

7

GOSSIP AND GUMPTION

LACEY

By the timeI hit my third stop in town, I wanted to pack my car and forget I’d ever come back to Poppy Valley.

The clerk at the hardware store gave me a once-over, like chic designer clothes meant I didn’t know what a paintbrush was. At the grocery store, two women I vaguely remembered from school whispered loudly as I felt the options for a ripened avocado.

“Lacey must think she’s better than us, waltzing in from New York like a shiny penny.”

“I heard she forced Carson into promising to marry her by thirty if neither were attached.”

“Well, clearly he thought little of it and proposed to Emme. If I were Lacey, I’d never be able to show my face in town again.”

“She always did have a thing for drama.” That one looked me dead in the eye as she said it when I rounded the produce aisle.

I didn’t flinch. My spine stiffened and I stood taller, as if my silk scarf was armor instead of a flighty accessory from the clearance bin at H & M on Fifth Avenue.

By the time I returned to my car, nerves had me shaking. That familiar weight of being misunderstood, and not goodenough, hit me like an old friend. Well, I’d escaped this small-minded town once before. I could do it again.

I floored it home, and after I carried in the paint cans and groceries, I could no longer hold my chin up. I sagged against the cabinet like the weight of the world had followed me home and where it still smelled like Mom. Even now I could discern her floral scent from the dust like she was just here yesterday, as if snapdragons or lilies grew wild in here.

“I miss you so damn much it hurts.”

The pain ripped through my heart. There was no way I could face this town, the house—visit the cemetery. I flew down to my room and pulled out my suitcases. I stuffed my clothes in, not bothered to fold them nicely.

The cases bulged and wheels squealed along the floor of the hall. I left them there and sat down on the old, creaky stool by the island and opened my phone. My thumb hovered over a message to Archer, the most sensible person—friend?—I had in New York.

Lacey: Maybe I should come back. I’m not sure there’s anything left for me here. Job offer still stands?

I hadn’t hit send yet when a knock on the screen door startled me.

I turned and blinked. “Mama Goodson?”

She smiled, soft and warm, holding a basket of baked goods in her arms like she’d stepped out of a Southern welcoming committee.

“Hi baby girl. You gonna just stand there and let my knees give out on your porch?” Her thick twang as soulful as Mom’s, and the size of her about the same as well, my eyes betrayed me at first. My heart lurched wishing for a hug, for strong arms anda warm bosom to lay my head on, belonging to a woman who had lived through it all and had the stories to tell about it.

I batted away a few stray tears and moved quickly, opening the door. “Sorry. Come in, please.”

She breezed in and hugged me tight. Yep. Her soft chest smelled like cinnamon and the same perfume she wore the day of my mother’s funeral. Mama Goodson had been Mom’s best friend, and like a second mother to me.

“You look thin and pale,” she said, pinching my cheeks for color. “You eating enough? Don’t tell me you’re one of them fancy girls up north who starves themselves to fit into the latest fashion.”

“I just get busy. A lot on my mind.”