It wasa gorgeous day for a wedding.
With my dress gathered in my hands as gingerly as I could, I walked a circle around the outdoor ceremony setup. White chairs curved in a half-moon around the pergola and thick garlands of white hydrangea led the way down the aisle. With the ocean as the backdrop and a bright, shining June sky overhead, it didn't matter that the peonies filling the pergola were a slightly darker pink than I'd expected.
Satisfied, I traveled toward the tent constructed for this evening's reception. I moved between a pair of long, rectangular tables, each dressed with an assortment of linens, candles, and flowers. The design was simple without being plain, rustic without being rough.
On the far end of the tent, I spotted Owen Bartlett pacing a short route between the six-tier wedding cake and the dessert table. I headed in his direction.
"Are you ready for this?" I called, gesturing to the space around us.
He eyed my dress with a pleasant grin. "Are you?"
"I will feel much better when you tell you have your portion of the events on lock."
He glanced at his small leather notebook. "This is my eighty-ninth wedding ceremony. I didn't think I knew that many people, but here I am, presiding over all these unions. It's surreal when I think about it." He patted the notebook. "I have this on lock, Brooke."
"I expected nothing less." I peered around him. "Where's Cole?"
"Where do you think? He's back in the distilling room, geeking out over the newest batches JJ has in the works." He shook his head as if he didn't relish his husband's obsession with Down East Distillery's research and development efforts. "Have you given any more thought to the proposals on the table? Mind you, I'm not trying to rush the process. Just curious. I get that from Cole."
As it did whenever the topic of my father's estate surfaced, a sudden pressure filled my chest. In the year since his death, my perspective on the home my lineage had kept for centuries evolved. At first, after collecting my things and moving them to Jed's house, I'd wanted to sell. Be done with the ancestral property and move forward. But it wasn't as simple as hanging a For Sale sign in the yard, not with generations of history packed into every corner.
After the summer ended and the loss wasn't as raw, Annette convened a clean-out party disguised as another one of her double dates of vengeance. We managed to remove much of the recent history—leftover boxes of sterile gloves, dementia-proofed door handles, banana-flavored pudding mix—and that eased some of my tension. I didn't feel the need to avoid the property anymore but I didn't know what to do with it either. Not wanting to deal with that on top of growing a human being and reorganizing my entire life, I set it aside. Until the offers started coming in.
Most were easy to dismiss—the numbers were too low or the buyers weren't qualified—but each one forced me to think about how I wanted this to unfold. As much as I struggled with the truth, I couldn't walk away. I didn't think I could look at the house atop the hill without believing some part of me belonged there and some part of it belonged to me.
"I haven't made any decisions, though I am leaning toward the historic preservation proposal," I admitted. "I like their focus on expanding the gardens, converting the bedrooms into guest suites, and updating the outbuildings."
"And you retain ownership," he said, laughing.
"That always helps," I replied. "That proposal makes the most sense. Turning the house into a museum as other developers have suggested seems—I don't know—wasteful. The only people who will visit are elementary school kids on class field trips and that's not a punishment I'm prepared to administer. I'd rather reimagine it as an inn, a horticultural center, something like that.”
"I understand, and I'm confident the town council will approve the zoning changes necessary." Owen jerked his chin toward the main entrance. "You should get back inside. People are going to arrive early. They're all chomping at the bit for a look at the place."
"As they should be," I said, motioning to the lush grounds. "This place is fucking amazing. Did you see that patio area over there? And the gardens? Holy shit. I didn't know gardens could look like that. It's hard to believe we're in Talbott's Cove." I swept an arm out. "A wedding with three hundred guests tonight? No problem. A grand opening next week? Got it covered. Farmers markets and food festivals and five different pop-up events the week after? Business as usual." I tapped an index finger to his suit coat. "Start planning for more stoplights, my friend. This town is never going to be the same."
A rare smile pulled at his lips. "What a remarkable gift it is to get on your good side."
Shaking off his words as I moved toward the doors, I called, "If I see Cole, I'll send him your way."
I slipped inside, careful to keep my steps silent against the concrete floors. It was wild to think this old cider house was ready for its debut after all these months of work and planning, all while welcoming a newborn baby into our lives.
As I ducked down the hall toward the distillery's offices and private rooms, I found Nate marching toward me. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his collar was open, a necktie dangling from his back pocket. All he needed was a tweed vest to complete his barkeep chic look.
"Where are you sneaking off to now?" he asked.
"Sneaking? Me?" I asked, feigning all the shock in the world. "Never."
We shared a laugh and I skimmed a glance over the fully grown man we referred to as our foster child. These days, he managed the Galley while also tending to the distillery's gardens. Much like Jackson and Annette, Nate was our family. He was part of us.
"Do you need anything?" he asked.
"You'd know if I did." I reached up, brushed some dust from his short beard. "What is this? Have you been rolling around in an attic? Don't you have better things to do, Nathan?"
"Rolling around on the floor," he replied. "I was fixing one of the refrigerators at the tavern."
"That doesn't sound like any fun."
Shaking his head, he said, "It wasn’t, but I got it patched up. That's all I care about."
