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Toby walked off and Coop was left standing there, holding the box in his gloved hands. He’d wait all year long for summer to come, to see Taylor and compare their promises. Neither one of them had ever failed to keep their promise to each other. Coop loved the competition it represented, but it was more for Taylor. She was a staunch believer in keeping her promises. It was ingrained in her and to his knowledge, she’d never broken one.

But he’d forgotten about the box, putting it out of his mind over the years. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, twelve long years and countless events had happened since.

Cassie walked up, her gaze fixed on what he held in his hand. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. It’s just an old box. It got dug up with the gazebo.”

“Really? Can I see it?”

“Uh, sure. But don’t open it.” He handed it over carefully.

“Why not?” Cassie asked.

Because I don’t want to see what’s in it.

Because it had once meant a lot to me.

And because, if it was empty he wouldn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“It’s not yours to open, Cassie. Remember how we respect other people’s property.”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. She turned the box over and inspected all sides, then handed it back to him. “It’s just an old box anyway.”

“Right,” he said. “Hey, we’re finishing up out here. Why don’t you clean up and let Taylor know you’re ready for her?”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, Cass?”

“What’s Taylor’s last name?”

“Preston, why?”

She glanced at the box again, noting the carved initials, and smiled. “No reason.”

Grimacing, he scratched the back of his neck as Cassie walked into the house. Sometimes, his daughter was just too doggone astute for an eight-year-old.

Coop marched over to his truck and set the box inside the glove compartment. He’d decide what to do with it later. Taylor had a right to it, but he wasn’t ready to hand the box over.

He wasn’t ready to lose one more thing from his past.

Not just yet.

*

Taylor set outher sewing box in the parlor, then grabbed her tape measure and notepad. She could make Cassie’s flower girl dress with her eyes closed, but it’d been a while. The last time she’d designed a child’s dress had been for Simone’s little sis who’d needed something special for her solo piano performance. As Taylor recalled, the dress and the recital had been a hit. And now, here she was, years later, making one for Coop’s eight-year-old daughter. This one would have to be just as special for Julie’s wedding.

Cassie entered the room and parked herself right smack in the middle of the parlor.

“Are you ready?” Taylor asked.

The girl gazed at the sewing supplies curiously and nodded.

“Okay then, in order for me to make you the perfect dress, I need to take your measurements, so the dress fits you just right. But first of all, we need to take the hard hat off.” Though she looked adorable in it, the hat was a distraction. The little girl stood steady as a rock, like a frozen statue. “And second of all, you can breathe, Cassie. Actually, you must breathe.”

Cassie giggled and her smile came out, all toothy and sweet.

Taylor smiled too. “Do you like working with your dad?”