“I need to see what kind of food rich people pretend they don’t eat,” she announced, and vanished toward a long table lined with appetizers so delicate they looked like they had been assembled with tweezers.
Meri stayed close to me, her gaze scanning the room as if she was cataloging exits and personalities. She had that gift, the ability to observe without being noticed. It made her an excellent sister to have at an event that made my skin feel too exposed.
“You’re doing fine,” she murmured, as if she had read my thoughts off my face.
“I have only been here for thirty seconds,” I whispered.
“Then neither of us have had enough time to make trouble. We shall have to rectify that.”
I almost laughed, and the sound steadied me.
We made our way through clusters of guests, accepting polite greetings from people who recognized our names from local gossip or the parade or simply the novelty of the Snowdrop Inn being back in conversation again. I answered questions with a smile that felt real, even when my stomach fluttered. Yes, the renovation was going well. Yes, we hoped to have a grand opening soon. Yes, it had been a family effort.
Every so often, I caught sight of Collin across the room, which made my shoulders tense on instinct.
He was dressed like he was attending a royal wedding. His suit was too formal, his tie too dramatic, and he held himselfwith the confident certainty of a man who believed the room should be grateful for his presence.
His unfortunate haircut was trimmed even further, this time with what I thought was distinctly a square shorn almost to baldness on one side of his crown.
As Kitty rejoined us, she spotted him at the same time and made a strangled sound. “He is wearing a pocket square. A pocket square the size of a napkin.”
Meri’s eyes flicked over Collin. “He looks like a man about to sell a time-share.”
Kitty nodded grimly. “In a castle.”
I forced myself to look away and focus on safer problems, like how I was supposed to hold a drink and also not fidget with my hands. “Let’s move before he sees us.”
We found Lucy near one of the high cocktail tables, her eyes bright as she spoke with Carly. Carly greeted us with genuine warmth, her bracelets catching the light as she gestured.
“There you are,” she said. “You all look fantastic. I am so glad you came.”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Mom replied, sincere.
Carly’s gaze landed on me. “And you, the parade queen. Braxton told me that you drove that antique truck like you had been doing it your whole life.”
My face warmed. “That’s generous.”
“That is accurate,” Carly corrected. “Enjoy tonight. Eat something. Drink something. Let yourself have fun before the speeches start.”
She was swept away by another guest before I could answer properly, leaving Lucy smiling at me.
“See,” Lucy murmured. “We’re doing it. We’re being normal.”
“Normal is a stretch,” I whispered.
“The acoustics are decent,” Dex noted. He glanced toward the band as if that was the most important thing in the room.
Lucy elbowed him lightly. “Dex.”
He looked at her, expression softening. “I’m being supportive.”
Braxton returned with two drinks, offering one to Jane and one to himself, and I caught the way he leaned in closer to her as he spoke. Their smiles matched. It was the kind of tenderness that made you feel both happy and slightly lonely at the same time.
I turned to look for Kitty, partly to make sure she was not starting an argument with a shrimp tower, and that was when I saw him.
Ephram.
He stood near the edge of the ballroom, half turned as he listened to someone speak. He was dressed in a dark suit, tailored enough to sit cleanly on his shoulders, his brown hair brushed back in a way that looked unfamiliar and unfairly attractive. He blended into the crowd so well that if I had not known his posture, his stillness, I might have missed him.
