“I guess I’ll go give them a hand,” I said.
Because nothing saysI’m so sorry I slept with your old boyfriendlike a flower arrangement. Anyway, spending time with my sister couldn’t be more awkward than hanging out here with Silent Sam.
With a little wave, I got back in the car, flipping down the visor tocheck my Parisian Red lipstick. The little flick of eyeliner I’d applied so carefully this morning was only slightly smudged. Good enough, I decided. It wasn’t like I was going to see Trey. And Jo didn’t care.
But Aunt Phee would, I thought as I turned down the long sandy lane toward Oak Hill. Nothing mattered more to our great-aunt than appearances.
Our father grew up in the big white house on the hill. When Daddy deployed to Iraq, Momma refused to move in with our father’s aunt Phee, moving us instead to her parents’ small farm. Over the years, Oak Hill’s land had been sold off to developers and the Coastal Land Trust, but the manor and some of the original outbuildings remained. Too much space, Aunt Phee said, for one old lady. Our father had moved into the carriage house after Momma kicked him out.
I could see signs of recent activity as I approached. The dark magnolias had been trimmed back from the house, the columned porch freshly painted, and the grass mowed all the way down the long slope to the duck pond. Azaleas and early roses bloomed everywhere, clouds of pink, red, and white transforming the scrubby gardens into the perfect wedding venue.
I pulled into the long, circular drive and parked behind our mother’s battered blue pickup under a mature live oak draped in Spanish moss. A white van with The Taproom logo—Eric’s new restaurant in town—was parked by the side of the house.
And there was my sister Jo, laughing and chasing Robbie on the grass. He was grinning at her over his shoulder as he pushed a toy lawn mower, his fat little legs moving as fast as they could go.
Gladness and guilt surged inside me. And maybe... a pang of envy? She looked sohappy.
“Jokies!” I cried, getting out of the car.
Which is what I called her. We had always been rivals, for Dad’s attention and, later, for Trey’s. She didn’t confide in me the way she did in Meg. She didn’t baby me the way she did Beth. But we were sisters.The funny pet name was my way of establishing a special bond between us.
Robbie looked in the direction of my voice, stumbled over the mower, and fell.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Jo said.To which one of us?She scooped up her baby, smooching his cheeks and propping him on her hip. She smiled at me over his head. “Hey, Ames.”
I hugged her awkwardly, the baby between us. He peeped at me from her neck, his shy smile revealing a string of little pearl teeth. He had his daddy’s dark skin and curly hair. Eyelashes to die for. “Hello, handsome.” I kissed his forehead gently. “You’re getting so big,” I marveled.
“Nineteen months.” Jo shifted his weight. “Good to see you. Mom wasn’t sure when you were getting in.”
“I wanted to come early to help. Not that you need it,” I added. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“Thanks. Wait till you see the inside,” Jo said.
I thought of fetching her wedding present from the car. But her arms were full with Rob, and anyway, it was her turn to show off. I trailed her up the wide, shallow steps to the high, shaded porch. Planters of ferns flanked the leaded glass door.
Oak Hill manor was built in 1852 in the Greek Revival style. Aunt Phee’s taste in furnishings was almost as old. But the faded velvet drapes and most of the oriental carpets were gone, the pine floors refinished, the walls painted a creamy neutral. The whole effect was light, bright, and inviting.
“Wow.” I surveyed the changes. Tables had been set up in the living and dining rooms. Dining chairs were stacked in the hall. “I thought you wanted a simple wedding.”
“Oh, it’s not for the wedding.” Jo’s face lit with excitement. “Tell her.”
Only one man brought that light to my sister’s face. I turned to see her honey, Chef Eric Bhaer, striding from the direction of the kitchen. Arm Porn Guy, I’d dubbed him when they first got together. He kissed Jo and hefted their baby in the air, making him squeal with delight, before wrapping me in a big bear hug.
“Amy!Spatz!”Sparrow, in German. I felt a little glow at the special pet name. “It’s so good to have you here.”
Here was the welcome I’d hoped for. Eric was such a great guy. There was a time I couldn’t imagine how Jo could possibly reject Theodore James Laurence III in favor of, well, any other man. But obviously my sister had made the right choice. Which only proved—didn’t it?—that I was over Trey. “Tell me what?” I asked.
“Eric’s opening a restaurant,” Jo said.
“Another one?” I asked.
Jo nodded, beaming. “Here at Oak Hill.”
“But you just opened The Taproom.”
“A year ago,” Jo said.
