“Oh, a younger man. Intriguing.”
We reached an imposing iron gate—one I had wondered about—at the end of the street. Mason typed in a code, and with a series of beeps, the gate began to open. I looked at him questioningly. “I thought I’d introduce you to Amelia really quickly,” he said, grinning that crooked grin at me. “As promised.”
“Are you trying to kill me and dump me in the sound?” I asked.
“I would never let anything happen to you.”
It’s the kind of throwaway statement that makes women lose their heads and believe that a man can protect them from, well, life. He cannot. All the same, his words were like a warm blanket wrapped around me.
Past the gate, the ancient trees began to grow together, forming a thick canopy. The sun was obscured by them, and the entire sight was magical. “Wow,” I whispered.
“I know,” Mason said. “It still gets me.”
As we walked on, the trees opened up, and in front of us sat the kind of house I’d heard existed but had never seen in real life: a massive white Colonial with wide front porches and thick columns that seemed to sprawl on forever. To the far left, I could make out a slightly smaller version of a similar house. “That’s the house I grew up in,” Mason said, pointing to the left. “My brother Parker and his wife Amelia live there,” he said, pointing to the house that was obviously the star around which these other supporting actor houses had grown up.
“There is so much land back here,” I said. “I never would have guessed.”
“Most people wouldn’t,” Mason said.
He took my hand loosely in his, like he was leading me to the front door. Was that what he was doing? Or was he trying to hold my hand, like, romantically?
“My mom’s best friend Elizabeth lived lived here,” he said, gesturing toward the big house, “until just a few years ago. My brother Parker married Elizabeth’s daughter Amelia, and they moved into Dogwood with their baby twins—and Amelia’s Aunt Tilley, who is… touched. Is that a scientific medical diagnosis?”
I laughed. “Yes. Totally. It’s similar to the vapors.”
Mason snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Aunt Tilley’s boyfriend Robert died decades ago, and she has never gotten over it. So she lives in the east wing with Parker and Amelia, bless their hearts. I don’t say that often, so when I do…”
“Small twins and the batty aunt is bless-your-heart-worthy.”
“Exactly.”
We walked up onto the porch of Dogwood. The floor was painted black with a blue ceiling. Rocking chairs lined either side of a pair of imposing screen doors that you could tell were as old as the house. I thought about my daddy, repairing ours over and over again, and I wondered how many times the screens in these ancient front doors had been replaced.
Before we could knock, a woman about my age in a brown printed skirt with a matching top sort of sashayed to the door, gesturing for us to come inside. Mason opened the door, and I walked through it, and I might have swooned a little. Is this how starved I was for romance? A polite Southern man opens the door for me, and I get all hot and bothered?Get it together, Daisy.
My eyes adjusted to the darker light inside. In the huge entrance hall with a circular table in the middle, about a million cherry blossoms in a vase reached almost to the ceiling. Portraits of what I presumed were family members lined the walls, but the rugs were a down-to-earth seagrass. I stepped forward and could see a huge dining table to the left.
“Hi!” the woman said. “I’m Amelia.”
“Daisy.”
She hugged me, which seemed funny, but, nevertheless, felt strangely normal. I noticed that the vast room to the right that looked to line the entire side of the house held antique wooden tables with large iMac computers and comfortable office chairs. Odd.
Amelia led me into the room with the computers and said, “Welcome to theSouthern Coastoffice. Parker and I run the magazine out of our house, which is crazy, but sort of works for us.”
“That’s my favorite magazine!” I shrieked. “You are Amelia Thaysden! How did I not put that together? I’m a big fan.” I imagined this room filled with journalists and photographers and graphic designers.
“Well, see, Mason, you were right to introduce us. Wearegoing to be friends.” Amelia winked at me. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You have to stay for dinner. Then you can meet Trina too.”
Mason shook his head. “Nope. No way.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be offended, but, either way, I pointed down at my scrubs. “No, no. I’m not dressed for dinner. This was just an impromptu walk.”
Amelia waved me off like she didn’t look every bit the chic magazine editor she was. “No one cares about that. You have to meet Trina—”
“And all our crazy family members?” Mason chimed in, his voice rising an octave. “Amelia,” he said conspiratorially as though I couldn’t hear him. “I like this woman. She barely knows me. Please let me at least make her think I’m cool for like a minute before we ruin it.”
I laughed, and so did Amelia. “Don’t be ridiculous. Our family is—”
