Coop didn’t know how long he stood there, taking it in. Long enough that Ezra shifted uncomfortably again.
“Thanks for letting me know, Ez.” Coop bent over and picked up a pickax.
“That’s it?” Ezra asked.
Coop looked at his friend. “What do you want me to say?” He hadn’t forgotten about her dessert boutique plans. A part of him had known she hadn’t given up on that dream. Maybe he had been in denial. Maybe he thought the thing happening between them would be enough to keep her here. “Did you expect me to do something about it?”
“Yeah. I guess I did.” Ezra pulled at the collar of his shirt.
“Oh, I get it.” Coop leaned on the pick. “You’re hoping I’ll convince her to stay, aren’t you?”
“If you can do that,” Ezra leaned in, “you’ll be on everyone’s happy list.”
“If my time’s short, I’m just going to have to up my game.” Coop swung the pickax over his head and sent it plunging into the rich soil, his mind already swirling with ideas.
***
Lia
“Lia,” Mom said as soon as I entered the kitchen from the garden. Dad stood beside her. Their expressions brought me back down to earth.
“I thought you were going into Wildwood with Ezra, Dad,” I said. “What’s wrong?
“My appointment called and rescheduled for this afternoon.” He held his arms across his chest, and my mother looked everywhere but at me.
“Just tell me, Mom.” With a sinking stomach, I braced myself for bad news.
“Your mother and I have decided to hire a professional caterer for the Fourth.” He held himself so still it reminded me of someone expecting a blow. Then his words sank in.
“You’re hiring someone else to do the catering?” My own parents didn’t have confidence in my abilities. A traitorous tear slipped down my cheek. “What amIthen, just the grunt work around here?”
“It has nothing to do with your abilities, sweetheart. I promise.” Mom looked at me then. “I wanted you to put on an English tea party in the ballroom. It would be too much for you to do both.”
My imagination caught fire. An English tea. With yummy food. A part of me refused to let the caterer thing go, though.
“Are you just trying to placate me?” I asked.
“No, no, Lia,” Dad handed me a tissue. “This tea thing your mom’s talking about is a perfect way for you to get your feet wet. Besides”—he lowered his voice—“she’s hoping you’ll love doing it and want to do it again. So you’ll stay here with us.”
“Roger!” Mom shot him a look of daggers. “Why don’t you just blab everything?” She turned to me. “Don’t you think a tea would be fun? You’ll be completely in charge.”
My parents stood there, waiting for my decision and trying not to let me see how tightly they were squeezing each other’s hands. The sweetness twisted at my heart.
“I think we should limit it to fifty people,” I said, relenting. “What’s my budget?”
They drew me into a group hug.
“Now, where’s my teapot?” Mom asked. “I can’t get anything done until I have my cup of tea.”
“My brush was missing again this morning,” I said. “You really have to talk to the boys.”
“Roj, you do it. Maybe they’ll listen to you.” Mom pulled a small pot from the rack and started filling it with water. “And pick up another kettle while you’re in the village.”
“I’m going to check out the ballroom while you’re getting your tea then,” I said.
As I left the kitchen, my emotions jumbled together. The thrill of being in charge of the tea event fought with my frustration over losing out on a kiss. I consoled myself with thoughts of a midnight picnic.
When I entered the formal dining room of the east tower, Mellie skipped into the room, her cheeks pink from the exercise. She looked healthier than I could remember in a couple of years. Since we had lost Phoebe. Maybe the size of the place made a difference. Between running around the house and running around the grounds, she was constantly in motion. Her appetite resembled that of the boys’ now.
