“Oh yeah,” Murphy said, grinning. “With her little manipulation, we’re real close.” Then she added, “By the way, did you know there’s something going on with her and Scott?”
“Stevens?” I asked.
“The one and only. So, yeah, I’m going to insert myself in this whole maple-syrup business discussion, but with a side of Scott talk.”
“Oh boy.”
We laughed all the way home about the scare tactics Murphy planned to use on Brenna.
When we got back, we set the food on the kitchen counter and made it as far as the hallway before letting the food get cold.
34
EPILOGUE
Murphy
“Close your eyes,” Ben called out as he opened the door, and I smiled. He was always up to something.
“Don’t let all the leaves in,” I shouted back. It was early October, and I swore every day, a few hundred new leaves collected in our tiny foyer, blowing in from the yard.
“A few won’t hurt,” Ben called back, and I chuckled. He was always teasing it was Vermont’s revenge on Brooklyn ... the endless foliage with nowhere to go but inside.
I was sitting at the dining table, finding it hard to concentrate on my latest social media client. A family-run chain of counter-service hummus-based restaurants had hired me after checking out my portfolio of work for Hunnie and Gigi. They liked how I’d infused a family-type feeling to all of the posts I’d done for Hunnie and Gigi, a feeling they felt was essential to community building.
Instead of making notes on my future client, I was staring at my wedding band, so I did what Ben had asked and closed my eyes.
A year ago, Ben and I got married at city hall, just the two of us, and then had dinner in an all-night diner. For old times’ sake, we had breakfast for dinner and brought our own bottle of Vermont maple syrup like real Vermonters. We also used another bottle of syrup at home to commemorate the day ... and then we woke up and dealt with the wrath of Brenna, Hunnie, Gigi, and Zara.
Of course, we gave in to their demands to celebrate our wedding with us, so a month and a half later, we came home and threw a big private party at the Bean. Zara closed down for us and Roderick manned a makeshift bar—with some recipes from friends of his up at Vinos & Veritas in Burlington. Gigi made me a cupcake cake, and this time I actually got to eat it. Hunnie made straws of a special-edition rose-petal honey. The straws had been the last project we’d finished before I left Vermont. We’d found a manufacturer for the straws, and now they were sold all over Vermont in little gift shops and boutiques, not to mention a few places outside the state that had started carrying them.
It had been a magical night. To be honest, returning to New York had been hard, but with Ben by my side, I was fine. We’d enjoyed the last year—being married, working hard, and exploring dive restaurants around Brooklyn. It was a New York I didn’t know growing up, and it was all ours.
I was still waiting for Ben to appear, so I opened my eyes and focused again on the hummus-filled photos in front of me, trying to funnel my creative thoughts. They would be a fun client to work with when I got my mojo centered.
Yes, the big dogs had come calling a few times too. Just the week before, I’d met with the Tao group, but I didn’t have the time to dedicate to a client of their status. If I did, I’d have to drop all my small-business clients and be prepared to travel all the time. Neither would work with our upcoming move back to Vermont, spending time with Branson on his college breaks, or anything else we planned.
A high-profile marketing career wasn’t what I wanted from life anymore. Brooklyn had been fun, but two years was long enough. I was looking forward to celebrating the holidays back in Vermont and not having to rush back to the city.
“Are they closed?” Ben called again.
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut and wondering what he was up to, thinking he’d brought champagne or something.
“Don’t say a thing. Shhh,” I heard him say from across the room.
Our brownstone wasn’t that big—it was mostly an open floor plan on the first floor and two small bedrooms and a bathroom on the second. One good thing about moving back to the Mad River house was it had space ... and lots of it.
“I thought we were celebrating later?” I asked with my eyes sealed shut. I knew better than to ruin one of Ben’s surprises.
“We are. I’m officially done at the office here,” he whispered.
My nerves tingled as I sensed him moving closer.
“Put your hands in your lap,” he said. “Palms up.”
“Ben, seriously, don’t play a prank with my laptop out.”
When we first moved to Brooklyn, he’d constantly joke that my parents were at the front door. I fell for it every time, running to look out the window and simultaneously finger-combing my hair. Then there was the time he fed me calf’s liver and onions after telling me to close my eyes, assuring me it was Chinese takeout. Yuck, I almost threw up in my mouth at the memory of it.
