“Mom, are you keeping something from me?” I asked, cornering her by the spice cabinet as she grabbed some nutmeg for Jane.
“Always,” she said cheerfully. “It is how I stay young.”
“I’m serious,” I said, following her around the kitchen.
“So am I. Also, smell this vanilla extract. Don’t you think it's very fragrant?” She shoved the bottle under my nose.
“Very,” I said without enthusiasm, gently pushing her hand out of my face. “What is going on in the parlor?”
She inspected the vanilla as though it held the answers to the universe. “I believe they are repairing a window.”
“You believe,” I echoed.
“I am choosing not to know. It’s easier at my age,” she explained, not meeting my eyes.
I stared at her. She smiled and handed me a jar of cloves. “Here. Smell this and tell me if it is fresh.”
“You are all impossible,” I muttered. I turned a speculative look at Jane.
“Don’t look at me. I have been in the kitchen all day,” Jane responded, holding up a hand to ward off any further questions. “Now help me by dipping these dough balls in sprinkles.”
I helped in the kitchen for a couple of hours before checking in on Kitty and Meri who were decorating the tree in the front foyer. The large tree didn’t leave much space for the ticket table but hopefully people would move to the reception room fairly quickly. I grabbed the vacuum cleaner, determined to get all the pine needles off the carpet.
Dex showed Dad where to place the speakers, and went back to his not-secret at a speed that made me suspicious and impressed at once. Braxton and Dad carried lumber past the front desk like two men in a competition where the prize was bragging rights and a bruise.
“What are they building?” I wondered.
Kitty quickly left and Meri blocked my path so I couldn’t follow my weaker sister to try to ferret out the secret. “Kitty isn’t feeling well. You can help me finish decorating.”
I knew by the glint of steel in Meri’s eyes, she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Chapter Twenty: A New Face at the Table
Dex
Breakfast at the inn had become crowded around the large table with new guests and the family. Fairly soon, they were going to have to start using the second table rather than just somehow adding yet another chair. Coffee poured, chairs scraped, and someone always needed a knife that was already in use. I took the end seat near the window with a black coffee and tried to enjoy my Eggs Benedict before the usual Bennet chaos ensued.
Lydia arrived with her chin high and her phone already recording. She kissed Helen’s cheek, spun once for the camera, and held out a hand like she was presenting a prize. “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gavin Wickham.”
The word boyfriend did most of the work. Helen said oh in a tone that covered pride, nerves, and hospitality in one syllable. William stood, shook Gavin’s hand, and said welcome.
Gavin looked like a brochure. Perfect teeth, perfect haircut, the kind of tan you pay for. He wore a dark sweater and a watch with a face too clean to belong to a working man. His handshake had the right amount of pressure.
I suppose one might call him charming as a first impression.
“Pleasure,” he said as he made the circle. “I’ve heard so much about your family. Lydia has told me everything.”
“That’s concerning,” Jane said under her breath, and slid another plate onto the table.
Gavin smiled at Helen. “You’ve created an incredible space here. There is warmth and welcome. A real brand.”
He turned to Lucy, holding her hand longer than necessary for a simple handshake. “You must be the organizer. The one who holds everything together.”
“We all do,” she said with a smile.
“Modesty,” he answered, like it was a compliment he gave out often. He kept moving and landed on me. “You’re Dex, the architect. Lydia says you’re volunteering your time for the dance.”
“That’s right.”
