Annie sighed. She tried not to feel guilty that she hadn’t pressed him into telling her what was wrong. She knew that sometimes Kevin needed prodding, a gentle or a not-so-gentle nudge to help him peel back the top layer of his anxiety so he’d be able to expose what was sizzling beneath.
But Annie had too much to do; the time it would take trying to solve his problems would be better spent talking with Taylor the next day. In the meantime, she would wrap and pack, even if it meant staying up all night. So she texted John and said she was chained to her soap stool. He answered by saying she’d better get cracking because if people stopped reading books, he was pretty sure the two of them would need her soapmaking industry to fund their retirement. He added a laughing emoji, which made her smile.
Then Annie remembered she should have told Kevin about the mouse. So she texted him, too. But he did not respond.
* * *
After going to bed just before dawn, Annie stood at the window over her kitchen sink a few hours later, nursing a mug of hot tea, allowing her mind to grasp that three weeks from tomorrow she and John were going to get married. They’d be standing at the big fireplace in the great room at the Inn. Lucy would be on her left, holding Annie’s bouquet; Earl would be on John’s right, because John had said his dad was the best man he knew. It had brought Earl to tears, which he’d tried unsuccessfully to hide. The room would be filled with the fragrance of lavender and freesia (“Not local, but imported?” Earl had asked in mock horror because neither flower bloomed on the island in December). Soft music would drift in from somewhere, while love and joy would radiate from family and friends....
Oh, God, Annie thought. She’d forgotten to arrange for some music. And to order the flowers. When she’d called the florist a few weeks ago and relayed what she thought she’d want, the woman cautioned her that they might have to come from outside the Northeast, unless she could find them at a greenhouse, which would be a long shot.
Annie knew she had to hurry. Hopefully, the florist knew someone who could provide music. Unless . . .
An outburst of laughter from Murphy at that moment was not appreciated. Especially since, dear God, it was eleven thirty, which didn’t leave much time for Annie to shower, dress, and make her tiny kitchen ready for her sister-in-law.
Then she had a better idea.
She grabbed her phone and texted Taylor. CHANGE OF VENUE. COME TO THE FLORIST WITH ME? LUNCH AT THEBLACKDOG? MY TREAT?
By the time Annie was out of the shower, Taylor had replied:WHY NOT.Annie took that as a halfhearted yes.
* * *
Taylor showed up early. She said that should give them enough time at the florist and get to the Black Dog before they starved to death. Annie had intended to put on a little makeup, but having Taylor wait would not be worth the effort.
The florist was wonderful and had done some homework since Annie’s first call.
“Freesia is native to South Africa,” she explained. “But a grower in upstate New York cultivates blooms year round.” It turned out that the same grower could provide lavender. And—huzzah!—hydrangea blossoms.
When Annie explained her “color scheme”—which actually was only her off-white dress (she didn’t mention she might not be wearing it) and Lucy’s powder blue, the woman suggested blue hydrangeas to blend with cream-and-lavender freesia. And fresh sprigs of lavender, too.
Annie signed on the dotted line and prayed that a December storm wouldn’t arrive while the flowers were in transit from New York.
She didn’t ask about the music.
The Black Dog Tavern down by the harbor was crowded, which wasn’t unexpected on a Thursday afternoon, as more people seemed to live year-round on the island now. They sat in captain’s chairs by the fireplace instead of on benches by the windows, which was fine with Annie, as she saw the harbor and the ferries often enough.
“So what’s up?” Taylor asked once they’d both ordered crab cakes and she dug into the loaf of bread that was still warm from the oven.
“I really appreciated your input with the flowers,” Annie said. “I’d almost forgotten I needed to get that done.”
“It was obvious you already knew what you wanted. So what’s the real reason for the lunch invite?” Taylor wasn’t stupid, nor did she mince words.
“Nothing, really. I just realized I hadn’t been focusing on the wedding plans, and I thought if I could sit down and talk to someone—to you—maybe it would help me get organized.”
“Uh-huh,” came the reply, as if Annie’s companion clearly wasn’t buying her convoluted elucidation.
“Actually . . .” She had no idea why this was so difficult to ask. Was she afraid her sister-in-law would laugh at her? Or turn her down? Annie squared her shoulders and willed herself to stop acting childish. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to play the cello. At the service. Christmas Eve.” She gulped her water while waiting for the answer.
“Why not,” Taylor said flatly and rather quickly. “Kevin made it clear we won’t be going to Hawaii for the winter until after your nuptials. And until he’s done with the house for the kids.”
Annie toyed with the napkin, which by then was in her lap. “Thank you,” she said with genuine relief. “It means a lot to me that you’ll be part of the service.”
“What else?” Taylor asked. “I mean, you could have texted me about that. You didn’t need to spring for lunch.”
There would be no fooling Taylor, no dodging the fact that a greater question loomed, no beating around the bittersweet vines.
“Okay,” Annie confessed. “I’m also worried about Kevin. He seems upset about your brother—not because Rex is here, but because Kevin doesn’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to butt in, but . . . well, all he said is that when he walks in on you when you’re with Rex, both of you stop talking.”
