“This garden is sublime,” she said. The roses had been pruned and the annuals wouldn’t bloom for another few months, but the soft pink witch hazel and deeper pink camellia flowers were showing out. “And how adorable is this!”
She pointed to the old tire that was used as a planter. Painted on it were several scenes of a dog frolicking through the marsh.
“That’s Pepper at various ages throughout his life,” Bryson said. “My mom painted it years ago.”
Evie clasped both hands to her chest. “Ilovedyour Pepper story. Was that really the catalyst for you wanting to become a vet?”
“Yep,” Bryson said.
“I had a similar incident with one of the strays I rescued as a kid—Humphrey. Unfortunately, the outcome wasn’t a good one.”
“I’m sorry,” Bryson said.
She lifted her shoulders. “I found Sparks two weeks later and kept her until I left for LSU. That’s the thing about dogs—you’ll likely outlive them, so you take the time you have to spoil them rotten. And when you’ve done all you can, you find another one to spoil.”
“It’s what I tell owners when surgeries aren’t successful,” he said. He plucked a petal from one of the camellias and brought it to her nose. “This scent reminds me of my childhood. My mom has been growing camellias since before I was born.”
“It’s lovely. This entire garden is like a dream.”
He slipped his keys from his pocket and gestured toward the house. “Let’s go inside? If we’re lucky, she has some satsuma syrup.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Because you’re city folk,” Bryson said.
“Stop it,” Evie said.
“I’m only joking,” he said as he gestured for her to climb the porch steps ahead of him. “There’s a bunch of citrus trees in the backyard. My mom makes this syrup from the satsumasthat she mixes with iced tea or lemonade. She would ship it to me in North Carolina.”
“Well, now I’m curious.”
“Cross your fingers that my brothers haven’t cleaned out her stash,” he said as he unlocked the door.
“It’s funny that you just moved back home and already have a key to your parents’ house,” she said.
Bryson stopped with his hand on the door. “What do you mean? I’ve had this key for years.”
“I haven’t had a key to my parents’ house since my freshman year of college. Even now they give me a temporary key code whenever I come over.”
“Damn. That’s cold,” Bryson said.
“It’s just how they are.”
And to think he envied rich kids.
They entered the house and, as usual, it was spotless, yet cozy.
“Okay, this is so far beyond adorable,” Evie said. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”
No shit. He couldn’t imagine her growing up here either. But he hadn’t heard any malice in her words. She appeared to be genuinely charmed.
Bryson took in the small living room. The baby blankets his mom crocheted for each of her sons were now draped over the backs of the sofa and matching recliners in the living room. The curtains she’d sewn hung over the windows.
“It took leaving for me to appreciate it,” Bryson said.
He directed Evie to the house’s lone bathroom, and once she was done, she demanded to see his bedroom.
“My mom changed it to a craft room a long time ago,” he said as they stood in the doorway. “I can’t complain. At leastI had the bedroom to myself. My two older brothers had to share their entire childhood.”
