Ellenor’s laughter rings from the kitchen. Through the fly screen, I glimpse her beside Barbara, admiring the new commercial stovetop.
“It’s magnificent,” Ellenor declares, awe in her voice. “You could cater a wedding with this thing.”
Barbara beams, polishing an already spotless bench. “That’s the idea. Rupert wants to have the paintball team and their families over. He helps troubled youth, you know.”
Rupert snorts and mutters, “More like she wants the team over so she can justify that new oven of hers.” He chuckles fondly, then he nudges me. “You’re missing out on the ladies’ adoration. The older sister might do for you, you know. Why don’t you join them? Go on—I’ll mind the grill.”
“I’ll pass,” I mutter, dropping my gaze back to the oysters. “You’d gladly see me with either sister.”
“Indeed, I would. Don’t you think highly of Ellenor?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, there you go!”
But she isn’t the one I’m losing sleep over. I’m thankful Rupert and Barbara haven’t found out about my rose bouquet mishap. Now there’s a lecture I don’t need.
The air is rich with the scent of garlic butter, but all I smell is phantom cigarette smoke, wrapping around me as I watch Lily-Anne discuss tonight’s performance with Jack.
It’s hard to see her on his arm. Especially when he hardly pays her attention when she speaks, too busy looking at his phone.
“Alright,” he says cheerfully, tapping the screen. “Let’s do a quick video for the fans to hype them up.”
Lily-Anne laughs, light but uncertain. “What fans? We don’t have any yet.”
Jack is unfazed. “Are you crazy? The whole town’s invested in our journey.” He steps closer as he speaks, angling the camera to frame them both. “Just say something casual. Gratitude goes a long way.”
She shifts her weight, smile tightening. “Jack, we don’t even know if—”
“Just a quick one. Thirty seconds. Can you shuffle over? I want to get that gargoyle in the shot—it looks wicked.” He plasters on a movie star smile.
“Willoughby, I really don’t want to.”
“Why not? Look, it’s alright to be nervous. Just say how excited you are for tonight. Ready?”
I tense as I watch him crowd her space, Lily-Anne shrinking back as she stares at the phone like a snake about to strike.
“Jack—”
“Here we go. Going live in three…two…”
Something old and dangerous stirs—protective and territorial.
“Lily—come here.” The command leaves me unbidden. Not raised or sharp, but stern.
She turns immediately.
Softer, I say, “I need you.”
Relief flickers across her face as she threads her way through the garden toward me. Five seconds—that’s all I have to justify why I summoned her.
I lift the mignonette like it’s a matter of consequence. “I need your palate,” I say evenly. “Tell me if I’ve ruined this.”
She blinks, then smiles despite herself, stepping in beside the grill. “Because I’m such an expert?”
“Humour me.”
Behind us, Jack keeps talking to his phone, already drifting deeper into the garden, livestreaming to his fans.
