Page 48 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

“ D ear God, your butt is as big as the Grand Canyon.” Evie’s voice rang out from the landing as Jamison climbed the attic ladder. “I don’t know how you’re going to fit into that wedding dress, but oooh … maybe we can play Sir Mix-A-Lot when you walk down the aisle.”

On the floor, Harper and Theo immediately launched into humming the baseline of Baby Got Back , their tiny shoulders bouncing in rhythm.

“What kind of mother teaches their kids that song?” Jamison asked, thinking she might drop her shoe directly on Evie’s head.

With a shoulder propped against the wall, Josie grinned as she waited with Evie. “I taught them.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jamison sighed. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take as long as you want.” With a plate full of food in one hand, Evie smacked on her third mouthful of casserole. “Who knew Abe could cook? Am I right?”

Above her on the ladder, Annabeth hmpfed . “He could’ve said something sooner and helped out.”

“He’s my son,” Simone replied from farther up the ladder. “And I still don’t know if I’d try his food first.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Jamison admitted. “Food poisoning is my least favorite thing.”

“Hey, hey,” her father barked, already in the attic and steadying Simone at the top. “Eyes forward. Watch your step. I don’t want anyone falling. ”

“We’re fine, Benjamin.” Simone brushed off her leggings with a huff. “Who do you think put all the wedding stuff up here to begin with?”

He helped Annabeth up next, then reached down for Jamison’s arm. “Why is my wedding stuff even up here?” she asked as she climbed into the attic. “Why not just shove it in one of the unused guest rooms?”

“Because I knew it would hurt you to see it.” Simone wrinkled her nose at the dusty air, already eyeing the clutter with disdain. “So I put it somewhere you wouldn’t have to.”

The front section of the attic was filled mainly with holiday decorations, all of which were left close to the entry point so they could be removed easily every year.

But behind those stacks were layers and layers of Fairweather history crowding the space.

A few things belonged to Ty and Simone from when they first arrived, but most were incredibly old pieces belonging to the various Fairweathers who lived at Haven House once upon a time.

Wandering his way through the jumbled chaos, Jamison caught sight of her father directly before he disappeared behind a wall of boxes containing Annabeth’s Nutcracker collection. “Dad, where are you going?”

She followed, leaving Simone and Annabeth to debate whether to bring the Thanksgiving decorations down this year.

“Dad?” Popping out to the other side, she found him in the larger section of the attic where the ceilings rose high above their heads. “What’s that?”

Smiling in a way that tugged on her heartstrings, her father held up a small pink CD player. “This was your mom’s. Laura Jean took it everywhere.”

“Oh, yeah?” She hit the button on the top, making the CD lid open. “I wonder if it’ll play anything.”

“I don’t know, but maybe we can give it to Harper and see if she can get it to work.” He nodded at a box with the words LJ’s music written on it. “Those are her CDs. Grab them, and we’ll take it all with us.”

Gathering the small box, Jamison tucked it under one arm, but when turning back around, she accidentally bumped into a candelabra.

“Oh, crap. ”

The gothic looking thing tilted in what felt like slow motion until it finally gave up the fight. It crashed into several pieces of Victorian-era furniture, clanging loudly as it collided.

“What are y’all doing?” Simone hurried through the box maze with Annabeth right behind her. “Don’t make a mess up here.”

“Whoa,” Annabeth breathed, pointing to a now-exposed painting. “Who’s that?”

The ornately framed picture was of a young woman, and setting the box of her mother’s CDs down, Jamison tilted it forward to see the inscription. “ Margaret Fairweather . Wedding Portrait ,” she read aloud from the plaque. “She must be some great-great-grand-whatever.”

“She looks like Charlie, so I guess so.” Her father scooted a velvet chaise lounge to reveal a massive family tree framed in the same extravagant way as Margaret Fairweather’s painting.

“Yeah, here we go.” He tapped at the glass.

“She was the mother of Calvin Fairweather, who was my father’s grandfather.

They were the last Fairweathers to live here before they built Parkland Grounds. ”

“She doesn’t look very nice,” Jamison said, eyeing Margaret’s painting. “But then again, she also looks sad for this being a wedding portrait.”

“Forget Margaret, check this out.” Squatting to get a better look at the family tree, her father grinned.

“Here she is. The infamous Wilhelmina Fairweather.” He pointed to the name sitting on the same line as Calvin’s.

“She’s the one who murdered their father.

His death is what forced the mill to close and why the Fairweathers moved to Hollingsdale. ”

“But why did she kill him?” Annabeth asked. “That’s what I’ve always wanted to know.”

“The way the story was told to me was that she wanted to marry her doctor, but her father wouldn’t allow it, so she killed him and ran off.”

“Agent Anderson says otherwise,” Jamison noted.

Staring at the family tree, Simone wrapped her arms around herself as if cold.

Admittedly, it was a bit drafty in the attic, but she was wearing Devon’s college sweatshirt and should have been warm enough.

“If a Fairweather is telling the story, you better believe it’s probably only half true.

” She nodded at Wilhelmina’s name. “I hope that poor girl ended up with her doctor and had a good life. ”

“I guess we’ll never know. Now she’s just a name on a family tree.” Jamison studied Simone for a second. “Are you okay?”

Simone’s gaze darted around the space, landing on the massive array of boxes with their various markings on them. R.M. clothes. Classroom supplies. Livy. Evie toys. Devon shoes. LJ’s painting supplies. A lifetime of memories crammed into a corner with nothing but the cobwebs to keep them company.

“Oh my God.” Annabeth pointed toward a dusty bin. “Is that Dad’s old science experiment stuff?”

Snapping out of her staring contest with the past, Simone followed Annabeth’s line of sight. “Yes, but be careful. I think we cleared out the chemicals, so it should just be beakers and whatnot in there, but I’m not sure.”

“We should take it down to the girls,” Annabeth said, wedging the box from beneath an oversized case marked Devon’s Tuba. “Or save it for when Xavier visits. He’s all about science now.”

“Hey, is the old record player still in the conservatory?” her father asked. “The one your mom always used?”

Kneeling next to her as she flipped through a stack of records, Jamison laughed when her father slipped one from her fingers. “Here, take these two,” he said. “Those were her favorites.”

“The record player is still there,” Simone sighed, rubbing her temples. “And bring down the Chipmunk Christmas album while you’re at it. We’ll send it home with Samuel and Evie.”

Annabeth let out a cackle. “Samuel hated that album, and Evie tortured him with it every December.” Leaning down the attic hatch, she hollered, “Hey, Evie! We found the Chipmunk Christmas album!”

Evil laughter floated up to them. “Bring it to me,” Evie ordered. “I think it’s time to introduce our girls to the classics.”

Annabeth’s phone rang, and she answered on video. “What?”

“Why you gotta be so mean all the time?” Selah asked with an eye roll. “That man of yours not treating you right?”

Annabeth frowned at her brother. “Mind your business.”

“Oooh, someone’s touchy,” Selah teased. “There’s a story there. I better get the scoop later.”

“I thought Lenora was calling,” Annabeth grumbled. “Not you. ”

“I’m here!” Lenora’s face squished in next to Selah’s on screen. “And so is Xavier.”

Hearing that Xavier was on the call, his Papa and GiGi hurried over, practically snatching the phone out of Annabeth’s hands as they launched into rapid-fire questions. Jamison rushed to get out of the way, knowing it was best not to get between them and their grandchildren.

“How’s the guitar?” her father asked.

“How’s school?” Simone interjected. “Are you doing okay learning at home?”

“Is your dad driving you crazy yet?”

“We found a science kit in the attic you can play with when you come visit.”

Xavier handled the interrogation like a pro while Jamison and Annabeth slipped away to a quieter corner of the attic, navigating past stacks that seemed to have multiplied.

“The wedding stuff should be over here,” Annabeth said, brushing dust from a bin. “I know the lanterns are.”

“Should I still do the lanterns?” Jamison asked. “Or is it too much?”

“I already said yes.” Annabeth held up one of the small white lanterns Harper would carry instead of a bouquet. “You can do the ceremony directly after sunset, and it’ll look awesome.”

Half-listening, Jamison ventured deeper into the wedding clutter.

It wasn’t just her ceremony things up there.

A display box holding Simone’s wedding dress, sealed and labeled with the date, stood off to the side.

Nearby, Evie’s gown—the one Laura Jean had worn for her first marriage to Evie’s father—hung in a plastic garment bag.

“These should be downstairs,” she murmured. “Why are the dresses hidden up here?”

Annabeth glanced up. “Mama was worried those people would come back and steal them again, so she stashed everything up here for safekeeping.”

Jamison stepped past the others, her eyes landing on a dress she hadn’t expected to see. The one her mother was meant to wear when she married her father. They were going to have a beach ceremony, just like the one she had planned with Liam.

“I bet I could fit into it. ”

“It’ll be short on you.” Annabeth gave the gown a once-over. “But yeah. I think it’ll fit.”

Annabeth knocked lightly on Jamison’s bedroom door. “Let me in. I want to see!”