My mom belts out an excited greeting, but with a wedding dress on my body and a scowl on my lips, I march over to the woman, ready to fight.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Sylvia smiles easily, gesturing with the ball. “I have a booth. Just dropping this off to add to it.”
She sets it on the table with a stand and the familiar purple velvet bag, price tag attached for $1,000.
The nerve.
Of this.
Woman.
“And I see you took my advice.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She eyes the wedding dress with a self-satisfied smile. “I told you the answer was in plain sight, and it looks like you listened.”
Nash was in plain sight. The gold was in plain sight. It is incredibly annoying that she got that right.
“I didn’t,” I snap, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “And this has nothing to do with you.”
Her hummed response is an infuriating sound, but before I can continue on a tirade, the bells to the door once again jingle. This time, the sound is accompanied by the much more welcomed face of Bennie. And Frank.
Bennie, who, since meeting the father she’d already snooped her way into knowing was alive, has been living on cloud nine. Where she once fought me on going to Fontain Academy, she can’t wait for school to be back.“It’s the same school Dad taught at,”she says on repeat.
Nash, even not being here, already has a number one fan.
“What are you doing here?” I eye the dog. “With Frank?” Frank lets out a single bark as Bennie barrels into me with a hug. My eyes catch on the gold chain holding a stolen Civil War coin around her neck—she hasn’t taken it off since Cap gave it to her. “Where are your cousins?” I look past her toward the door. “And your babysitter?”
“Your dress is pretty.” Bennie pets the lace. “You look like a princess.”
I laugh at the compliment. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here. With Frank.”
“Dad,” she says, then hands me a postcard before running to my mom and sisters.
“Dad?”
The image on the postcard is a hillside covered in rows of grape vines. At the bottom right corner are the words:
Fontain, North Carolina
A Town to Come Back To
I flip the card.
Come and get me, Rue Conway.
Already smiling, I look around the store like he might be here—up and down every aisle like he’s been hiding in these shelves without me knowing. He’s close; I feel him. The way I always have.
At Sylvia’s knowing smirk, I roll my eyes. I’ll deal with that idiot later. I have enough money to buy that crystal ball just to smash it.
I’m almost at the door when my mom calls my name. She hurries over to me with an envelope I got from the courthouse earlier this week. “Happy anniversary,” she says as she hands it to me.
I don’t know what that means—she has a brain tumor—but I take the envelope anyway.
Outside, I wince from the sun then stop, my smile somehow doubling in size. Nash is a sight for sore eyes in a shirt covered in grapes, leaning against his old F-150 with that damn harmonica on his lips, wailing a tune.
