Page 105

I want to make the booth perfect for Isla. It needs to stand out, to draw a crowd, to really wow. I’ve done extra detailing on the exterior and hand cut all the shingles myself. Mrs. Greerson even offered up some antiques that she’s letting me use: a turn-of-the-century walnut inlaid cabinet and marble top brass lamp, along with some old shawls that I can drape in what I hope will be an artistic fashion over some of the other furniture. Isla wants this to look like an eccentric aunt’s house and that’s the vibe she’s going to get.
The garage is quiet for a Wednesday afternoon. I’m putting an extra coat of varnish on the rocking chair when I hear the faint sound of footsteps. I look up and all the blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy. Isla stands there nervously. Her hair is in a braid that falls over her shoulder and her face looks paler than usual.
She clears her throat. “Hi,” she says.
“Hi.” My pulse pounds in my temples, making the dizziness worse.
“Hi Isla,” Cody pipes up, looking back and forth between us.
“Cody, can you give us a minute?” I ask.
Cody’s eyebrows shoot up like two excited caterpillars. “Sure, sure. Let me see if Reggie needs me in the office.”
He leaves and for a moment, there’s nothing but the faint crackle of classical music coming in through the old radio.
“How are you doing?” I ask at last.
She cracks a half smile. “I’ve been better.” She scratches her ear. “At least I’m not engaged to a cheating jerk anymore.”
“Silver lining,” I add in a pathetic attempt at humor.
“I’m glad you punched him.”
“Me too,” I admit. She grins at me, and I feel like a balloon is expanding in my chest, pushing against my ribs.
“Charlotte threatened to cut his balls off and feed them to him.”
“Charlotte is full of great ideas.”
Isla chuckles. She walks over and looks at the various pieces I’m working on then sighs. “I can’t do the booth anymore,” she says quietly.
“What?” I cry. “Isla, no—what are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry, I know you’ve done all this work?—”
I wave a hand. “Who cares about that, this is aboutyou. You’ve got to do the booth. You’ve been working so hard!”
Tears glint in her eyes and something in me cracks to see her pain. “Caden, everyone is talking about me. I see the looks, I hear the whispers. Broken engagement, Luke’s affairs…I can’t really blame them. It’s some high-quality gossip. But the last thing I need is to feel like a pariah on Magnolia Day.”
“Fuck the gossip,” I say. “Who cares what people are saying? Besides, Mrs. Greerson is shouting to anyone and everyone how you were too good for Luke. We’re onyourside, Isla. This town may love its gossip, but it loves its people more. Once they try your recipes, they’ll shut right up. This is your chance to knock everyone’s socks off. Change the narrative.”
She glances up at me. Her green eyes flicker with hope. “You really think that?”
“I really do.” I step toward her, her cinnamon scent filling my nose. “Forget about small town gossip. Forget about the engagement. What doyouwant, Isla?”
The hairs on my arms stand on end and a craving to touch her makes my palms itch.
“I want to have my own booth,” she says, determined.
“Yes,” I say, smiling at her.
Her mouth twitches. “I want to do more than the booth though.”
“Now we’re talking,” I say eagerly. “More like what?”
“More than just working at the Thorn,” she says.
“Yes!” I say punching the air. “Keep going…”