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“You’ve reached Fred Norman. I’m out of the office on vacation through the end of the month. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll return your call as soon as I can.”
Fuck. I leave a message anyway.
“Hey Fred, Caden Everton here. Listen, I was wondering if you could help me find an address for someone. His name is Carl Fillion. He used to work for Everton until Dad fired him. Let me know as soon as you can. Thanks.”
I lean back in my chair, feeling invigorated. I’ve got a lead. For the first time, I feel a sense of hope.
I wonder what Mom would say if she were here. If she’d be proud of me. If she’d feel vindicated.
Actually, she’d probably say something like…I’m just glad you’re home.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ISLA
“And we’ll have the string quartet here during dinner,” Lucille is saying as she gestures around the lodge at Everton Estate, the wedding planner following behind her.
“This is gonna be perfect,” Luke says, his arm draped over my shoulders. “What do you think, babe?”
“I love it,” I say. “Everton is gorgeous in the summer.”
It’s been a very busy two weeks since I got the flu. I’ve been working hard perfecting my recipes for Magnolia Day, with Grace and Charlotte as my taste testers. I’ve finally nailed down the selection of macarons I’m going to offer: dulce de leche, Earl Grey tea, raspberry lemonade, blueberry basil, and peanut butter and jelly. That one was Grace’s request. She loves PB&J.
I still have to figure out what else to make. I want to keep with my theme of going to an eccentric aunt’s house for tea. Maybe Bakewell tarts? And croissants are a must—every guest at the Thorn gushes over my croissants.
The more I practice and plan, the more I have this itch to do more. To dream bigger. Maybe open my own bakery one day. But I keep those dreams private for now. One step at a time.
Today is for wedding planning. It’s nice that Luke is here, since he’s often been too busy to come to these meetings. And I know Caden is at Reggie’s working on the booths, so there’s no chance of any more awkward encounters.
Luke has suddenly been in town a lot more these past two weeks. Every night, in fact. He’s been sleeping at my place. It’s not ideal—my bed is pretty small, nothing like the California king at his apartment in the city. But I wouldn’t want to stay at his parents’ house. I do wish he wouldn’t leave dirty dishes lying around, though I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with maids.
I glance toward the mansion looming in the distance. I haven’t talked to Caden much since that weekend, except for some friendly small talk when I drop Grace off at the garage. I wonder if he’s made any progress with his mom’s case, but he hasn’t offered any information and I haven’t asked. Grace has thrown herself into learning about carpentry, and plumbing, and anything else Caden can teach her. And I’ve finally started to realize why.
Now she can help Dad out with the house. He and Grace have been doing projects around the Thorn, tackling some things that have been on the to-do list forever, like fixing the shutters on the back windows, putting fresh varnish on the banister, and sanding the Adirondack chairs in the backyard.
I turn away from the mansion just as Daisy Everton approaches us, her strawberry blonde ponytail swinging back and forth, a tray with two flutes of sparkling wine in her hands. “Hi guys,” she gushes. “Here, compliments of the estate. This is the latest vintage of our sparkling rosé. If you like it, we can serve it for the toasts at the wedding.”
I take a sip—the wine is lovely and fragrant, like peaches and strawberries, but with a delightful crispness. “Wow,” I say. “Daisy this is fantastic. What do you think?” I ask Luke.
He takes a big swig and shrugs. “Whatever my queen wants,” he says. His arm tightens around my shoulders.
Lucille sweeps over to us, clearly finished with her instructions. Daisy smiles at her.
“Hello Mrs. Richards,” she says cheerfully. “Is there anything I can help with? We’ve hosted lots of weddings here at Everton Estate and we’re so pleased this is where Luke and Isla have chosen?—”
“No, no, I’ve got it all planned out,” Lucille says brusquely. She eyes the glass in her son’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a sparkling rosé from Everton,” I say. “It’s really good.”
Lucille takes Luke’s glass and sniffs it. She frowns. “No, this won’t do at all. Carla!” The wedding planner scurries to her side. “We’ll need Dom. Lots of it. And for white let’s do Sancerre and for the red…oh a Rioja would be lovely.”
Daisy does her best to hide her disappointment, but I feel a pinch of irritation.
“We have to have at least one wine from Everton,” I say. “I mean…we’re getting married here.”
Lucille narrows her eyes. “We do nothaveto do anything, dear,” she says tartly. “Luke, how do those options sound to you?”
“Isla is right, Mom,” Luke says. “Hey, how about we do both—we can use this for the toasts and then you can do whatever you want for the other wines.” He glances at me. “Sound good?”