SUMMER
The spring sun shines through the leaves of the trees in the grounds of Blythe Manor.
Local kids run and laugh in the dappled shade as they race each other to find the chocolate treasures Maggie’s hidden for her Easter egg hunt. She’s started what she hopes will become a new tradition, opening the grounds to children from the village as the season changes and we all look forward to new beginnings.
There’s still a chill in the air, and I pull my mohair wrap around my shoulders as Owen strolls over, kisses my cheek, and hands me a cup of hot peppermint tea.
After that day he showed up with the cranberry banana bread, he never left.
Well, apart from visiting San Francisco for a week to catch up with staff in person and do the few things he can’t do remotely. And he grabbed a few more of his things while he was there. But, other than that, he’s fully ensconced in my place, working from the kitchen counter. We really should get him a desk.
Despite being away from the office he’s not slacked off. He’s been plugging away at finding a new big investor to replace Archie Banks and is on the verge of landing someone who owns a huge consumer electronics company. Owen and Elliot pitch to him in New York next week. So, there’s still hope they might get to have a billion-dollar companyandtheir nonprofit. And this guy sounds like he’s a good person. That will be a nice change.
Owen’s adjusted remarkably well to cabin life. I’d offered to let him set up an office in half of my work room, but he said someone knitting in the background of his video conference calls might be a bit distracting.
The only thing he misses about California is his sister, Gwyneth, and her seven-year-old daughter, Braith. But he’s getting a fix for the next few days with them here for a visit.
Owen nods toward Braith, who’s laughing like she’s known the children she’s running around with all her life, even though they met only this morning. Elsa chases her every step of the way.
“She’s loving it,” he says with a proud uncle smile.
He flew them out for a few days to coincide with the egg hunt. Gwyneth is staying with Maggie and Jim, and Braith’s with us. Partly to give Gwyneth a break from single-parenting, and partly because Owen can’t get enough of his niece.
She’s been with us only three days and already she’s formed an inseparable bond with Elsa, Owen’s mastered Braith’s favorite mac ‘n’ cheese bites that he used to order in for her, and I’ve memorized all the songs inFrozen.
I snuggle into his side.Owen’s barely been out of my sight for two months, but still a thrill runs through me every time any part of him so much as brushes against any part of me.
“She is an amazing kid.” Dare I wonder if one day we’ll watch our own children run around this lawn?
On the far side of the garden, Jim bellows into a megaphone. “Time’s up everyone. Stop hunting. Gather ’round for the grand egg count.”
Gwyneth and Max amble across the lawn toward us from the house. Max has some business in Upstate New York, so he took a diversion here for the weekend to catch up with Gwyneth. Owen joked the real reason he came is to make sure Maggie organized the egg hunt properly.
“It’s good to finally meet the rest of the family and put faces to everyone.” I rest my chin on Owen’s shoulder and look up at him. “They’re all exactly as you described.”
He turns his gaze to the patio, where Elliot, Connor, and Walker are chatting.
“Yup. Connor looks like he just crawled out of bed after a restless night’s sleep in his clothes. And Walker needs to trim that beard before he becomes a hipster cliché.”
When we all video chatted with Tom in the UK this morning, Maggie said it was the first time all the brothers and cousins had been in the same room since Tom’s wedding in London five years ago. He seemed nice, and his semi-English accent from living there for so long, is adorable. Owen says his wife’s knocked all the spunk out of him. Connor said similar, but with added profanity.
Max and Gwyneth arrive beside us, laughing as egg-hunters from all four corners of the yard race toward Jim.
“Braith better not have found the most,” Gwyneth says. “Everyone would think it was a fix.”
“Don’t stomp on her appetite for success,” Max says. “She’s a Dashwood. Crushing the competition is in her blood.”
“Well, one of you seems to have loosened their grip on that a little.” Gwyneth tips her head toward Owen and twitches her eyebrows. “The love of a good woman can do that to a man, you know, Max.”
Max’s phone rings in his back pocket.
“Thank, God,” he says, looking at it. “My assistant. Should give her a raise for getting me out of this conversation.” He puts the phone to his ear. “What’s the problem now?” He strides back toward the house, away from the noise of happy children.
Jim raises his arms in the air as the kids all run up to him, proffering their egg baskets for counting. “Whoa, leave an old guy on his feet, please!”
“I’m going to go help Uncle Jim,” Gwyneth says, trotting away. “Before he gets mauled by twenty little people on a sugar high.”
Owen wraps his arm around my waist. “Let’s go for a walk by the pond.”
