As Emma busied herself gathering her things, Bryce stood, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the lingering urge to reach for her. He watched her move about the room, graceful yet hurried, and wondered if she felt the same mix of attraction and hesitation that churned within him. But now wasn’t the time to explore those feelings.
Instead, he focused on helping her tidy up, their movements careful and distant, a stark contrast to the intimacy they’d nearly shared.
When they finally said their goodbyes and he gathered up Pearl and headed for his pickup, Bryce couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them, though whether it was a beginning or an ending, he couldn’t quite tell.
Chapter Thirteen
Rosie
Rosie spread a tablecloth on one of the eight tables set up around her backyard, keeping a close eye on the few dark clouds overhead that punctuated the sky like shadowy specters haunting an otherwise perfect day.
She hosted these events once every few years, but that was more than sufficient. Every time, she forgot how much work they involved, though she wasn’t responsible for anything but providing the venue and contributing a potluck item.
Rosie didn’t consider herself an overly social person. While she enjoyed her book club and the occasional dinner out with friends, she was mostly happy here in her garden or with her books.
Still, these neighborhood parties were always enjoyable. They were a great opportunity for her to keep up with things happening in their small town, to connect with neighbors and friends she only saw in passing.
Even hosting it wasn’t particularly onerous, when she really thought about it. How hard was it to straighten up her yard and set up these tables and chairs other neighbors had been dropping off throughout the week?
“Are these for the tables?” Emma asked as she carried out a tray of vases holding simple flower arrangements Rosie had put together from her garden.
“Yes. That’s the plan. There should be a few extras. They can go on the food table.”
This would be Emma’s first neighborhood party, her firstsocial gathering of any sort, since she had returned to town. How would Rosie’s neighbors accept this prodigal daughter who had finally returned to the fold?
She had no idea. She could only keep her fingers crossed that people would be welcoming to Olive and Emma.
She didn’t really have misgivings about that. Most of the people who lived in and around Wood Briar were kind and generous. There were always a few outliers, unfortunately, strongly opinionated folks who seemed to think they knew what was right and proper for everyone else in their sphere of influence.
“What time will everyone be here?” Emma asked.
“In about an hour. Thanks so much for coming home early from the bookstore to help me set up. I know you’re in the middle of a hundred different things.”
“They will all be there tomorrow, too. If I had stayed late again, I’m not sure how much I would have gotten done anyway.”
Her daughter looked tired, with circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier in the week. Rosie gave her a look of concern. “Is everything okay? I thought I heard you moving around pretty late. Did you have trouble sleeping?”
Emma gave a tight smile. “I’m fine. I have a lot on my mind right now.”
“The bookstore refresh?”
“That’s a big part of it.”
“Was Bryce there late last night?”
Emma looked away. “Not too late. We didn’t end up painting but he took about half of the shelving units to work on at home in his spare time. And, yes. I tried to talk him out of it without much success.”
“Bryce can be stubborn when he wants to be.”
“I am beginning to figure that out. Thanks again for taking care of Olive last night.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome. I love having her here.”
Rosie slanted a look toward the sandbox she had created by pouring bags of sand inside an old tent. Olive seemed to adore it.
Gary probably would have called it silly to put a sandbox in the yard when they lived right next to a beach full of miles and miles of sand, but Rosie adored the idea of a tent sandbox so that Olive could have a covered place to play, even if the weather was bad.
Sylvia had seen the idea on social media and immediately suggested it for Olive. Now Rosie’s mother sat outside the tent opening in her favorite lawn chair, chattering away to her great-granddaughter.
