“I’ll make you a pie,” she said. “Then I’d like to hear about your father’s funeral. We’ll say a prayer for him and toast his memory to celebrate that you found each other again before the end.”
Jack’s eyes looked a little watery. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
She laid a finger over his lips. “I’m grateful, too.”
They were two imperfect people who would lift each other up, giving and receiving, the steady rhythm of two souls who would do the best they could with the gifts they’d been given. Jack propped her up last spring when she’d been humiliated on an international stage. And now, she would help him walk through the loss of his father and the unwieldy emotions that would come from forming lasting ties and settling down. These were the normal, terrible, and beautiful rhythms of life. She thanked God that Jack was ready to walk alongside her for that journey.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Two Years Later
Jack was reviewing ticket sales for the sold-out amphitheater when a disturbance near the parking lot caught his attention. He opened the office window in Reid’s Roost Tavern and strained to hear. It sounded likeAlicewas having a run-in with someone.
He dropped the clipboard to hurry outside. Two dozen vendors were setting up for the county’s Apple Blossom Festivalthat would begin in a few hours. Was one of them giving Alice a hard time? She’d been working her tush off for weeks to get this festival organized, and anyone who wanted to speak to her disrespectfully would have to go through Jack first.
He rounded the bend in front of the amphitheater, which would host thousands of people to watch tonight’s country music concert. The parking lot was straight ahead, where vendors were setting up ice cream trucks, hot dog stands, and all manner of tents where locals would sell art and baked goods. Competition for a coveted vendor slot had been fierce this year, and it looked like someone without a vendor’s badge had slipped in and was trying to set up a table. Alice faced the tall, silver-haired man, her cheeks flushed with frustration.
It was Grayson Chadwick, Alice’s father. Ever since he and Alice married eighteen months ago, Jack had been trying to get along with Grayson, but it hadn’t been easy.
“Dad, we’ve sold all the vendor slots, and you can’t sell your book here.”
“Why not?” Grayson barked. “You’ve got three thousand people showing up today, and I’m happy to sell autographed copies of my memoir.”
Retirement didn’t sit well with Grayson. He’d recently published a memoir reflecting on his years as a diplomat and was now setting out neat stacks of books on the table as Maude brought over a box of pens.
Jack stepped forward. “Vendor permits cost two hundred dollars for the day, and they sold out last month. You can’t set up a table.”
Grayson reached into his back pocket and thrust a form at Jack. “There’s my permit.”
A glance at the document showed the free pass Alice issued to her brother so Quentin could gather donations to create a waterfowl rescue center. It didn’t seem right to charge Quentina dime for setting up a table. First of all, Quentin was simply the nicest guy he’d ever met. Secondly, Jack and Alice owned the Roost and the amphitheater, so they got to set the rules and charge whatever they wanted.
He pulled Alice aside to speak in a low voice. “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in letting your dad piggyback on Quentin’s table, but this is your call.”
He would step in front of a speeding train to make Alice happy, but sometimes that meant yielding to her parents’ quirks. In the last two years, Jack had established an excellent relationship with his stepmother and two half-sisters, but bonding with Alice’s family was a lot tougher. Aside from Quentin, they were a fierce lot, but then again, he was nobody’s pushover, so he was learning a reluctant respect for this unconventional family.
In the few moments since they’d taken their eyes off Grayson, Alice’s parents had set finished setting up their card table and draped it with patriotic bunting. Maude wore a wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed with red, white, and blue flowers, but still managed to look like a hard-bitten general about to storm the beaches at Normandy. She set out baskets filled with branded bookmarks, mousepads, and candy meant to lure people to the table.
Jack and Alice headed to their table, where Alice handed the vendor form back to her dad. “It’s okay if you want to share the table with Quentin, provided he doesn’t mind. Where is he?”
“He didn’t come,” Maude said. “I set his donation box out if anyone wants to give something to his silly bird refuge.”
“Why isn’t he here?” Alice asked, bewilderment on her face, but Maude only scowled.
“He’s back at home, prostrate with grief and wallowing in it like a tragic poet dying for love. He’s barely eating; no wonder he looks so terrible.”
“Oh dear,” Alice said, her voice heavy with concern. “This is about a woman? I didn’t realize he was seeing anyone again.”
“He’s not. It’s the same old girl,” Grayson said. “He should have gotten over her years ago, but no . . . like an animal that can’t resist ripping a scab off its wound, he keeps watching out for her from afar.”
“When did all this happen?” Alice asked Maude.
“Last week.” Maude leaned forward and whispered quietly to Alice. “He blames your father. He says he’s leaving the country and won’t speak to us.”
Alice grabbed a cheap paper fan from Maude’s basket of freebies and began fanning herself as she met his gaze.
“Let’s head to the Roost,” she said, and Jack guided her toward the tavern. It was cool inside, thanks to the raised ceilings and artfully concealed air-conditioning ducts. In a few hours the festival would begin and the taproom would be standing-room only, but at the moment it was empty.
Reid’s Roost had been open for a year now, and was wildly popular among people willing to pay top prices for the tavern’s historic character. He had commissioned a master artisan to carve a custom bar from rich, dark oak that perfectly matched the timeworn hues of the original Roost. They served craft beer from local breweries and fine Virginia wines. The tavern still had the original diamond-paned windows and the immense fireplace that was almost large enough to stand in.
