“High praise from a woman who climbed out of windows.”
Tara laughed, a real laugh this time. “She’d have appreciated that. The sass. Harry never talked back to her—he was always too polite, too careful about what people thought.”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. The sun was falling, the light turning that particular shade of amber that only happened in summer, when the days stretched long and the air itself seemed to glow.
“Come on,” she said. “Help me figure out where to put this.”
They chose a spot near the second bench, where the plaque could be mounted on a low stone that Will would set into the ground. The stone itself came from the lake shore—flat and gray, worn smooth by years of water.
“We’ll need to drill into it,” Will said, turning the stone over in his hands. “I can do that tomorrow, mount the plaque properly so it won’t come loose.”
“Tomorrow.” Tara nodded. “Tonight I just want to sit here for a while.”
They settled onto the first bench together, the one that was finished and waiting. The garden was still mostly potential—bare soil where the forget-me-nots would grow, rose bushes and lavender plants still small and tentative, rosemary just beginning to spread. But the bones were there. The shape of what it would become.
“Christina seemed better today,” Will said. “When I stopped by this morning to check on the leak under her bathroom sink.”
“There’s a leak?”
“There was. Took me ten minutes to fix. Gave me an excuse to see how she was doing without hovering.” He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “She’s tired, but she’s managing. Ryan had Violet when I got there—carrying her around the living room, talking to her about some video game like she could understand him.”
“He’s good with her.” Tara smiled. “Did you see the way he looked at her in the hospital? Like he couldn’t quite believe she was real.”
The evening chorus was starting—crickets and tree frogs, the occasional call of a whippoorwill from somewhere across the lake. Tara leaned her head against Will’s shoulder and let the sounds wash over her.
“Patty never got to be a grandmother,” she said quietly. “Ben and Tim are both in relationships, but they’re still in college, so she never got to see them graduate. She’d have been the fun kind of grandmother. Ice cream for breakfast, staying up past bedtime.”
“She can still be part of Violet’s life. Through you. Through this place.”
“Matt said he and the boys are planning to come for the weekend for the opening. I didn’t tell him about the garden, I want it to be a surprise.” Tara considered what Will had said. The garden, the inn, the stories she’d tell her granddaughter about the woman who’d been her best friend for three and a half decades.
“The electrician’s coming tomorrow,” she said, shifting gears. “Something about the outlet in Room Three not being up to code. And I need to call the linen supplier—they sent the wrong color towels last week.”
“I can handle the electrician if you want to work in the garden.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Will stood, offering her his hand. “Come on. We should probably eat something before you fall asleep sitting up.”
Tara let him pull her to her feet. The garden was shadowy now, the rosemary just a dark shape against the lighter soil, the lavender invisible until you got close enough to smell it.
Tomorrow she’d plant the forget-me-nots. Blue flowers along the path, something bright to catch the eye and make people pause. And next week, when the plaque was properly mounted, she’d bring Christina here. Show her what she’d been building while her daughter was learning to be a mother.
“I was thinking,” she said as they walked toward the house, “we should have everyone over this weekend. A real family dinner. Evan and Emily, Ally if she’s not working, Ryan. Have Christina bring Violet and actually sit down for a meal instead of eating standing up over the sink.”
“You want to cook for all those people after the week you’ve had?”
“I want to feed our family.” She climbed into the passenger seat, already mentally inventorying the contents of the freezer. “Besides, Patty always said the best way to deal with hard times was to gather everyone you love in one room and make sure they’re well fed.”
Will held the door for her. “Wise woman.”
“The wisest.” Tara glanced back at the garden as they went inside, the shapes of the benches barely visible in the dusk. “We need dessert. Something chocolate. That was always her specialty—chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, the kind with enough candles to burn down the house.”
She pulled out her phone to start a grocery list. Flour, cocoa powder, butter—she’d need at least three sticks for the frosting alone. And she should text Christina, make sure Saturday worked. And check with Ally about her schedule.
Will handed her a glass of wine. Behind them, the garden waited—rosemary and lavender and empty beds ready for planting. Ahead of them, a family dinner to plan, a granddaughter to spoil and a hundred small tasks to finish.
CHAPTER 19
