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Her shoe caught an uneven plank. The ancient timber groaned beneath her weight, loud and sharp in the quiet hallway.

Inside Room 3, the conversation died instantly.

Victoria stopped dead, her pulse thumping wildly against her throat.

A heartbeat later, Emma stepped into the doorway.

They locked eyes across the landing.

Emma’s face was flushed. Her lips were slightly parted. She looked at Victoria with a sudden clarity. The humor was gone. Emma looked at her like a woman who had just solved a puzzle.

Victoria couldn't hide. She couldn't deploy a sarcastic comment. Her face burned. Her chest heaved with a shallow breath. She felt completely exposed.

"I..." Victoria started. Her voice failed her.

Emma didn't say a word. She just watched Victoria, the tension in the hallway spiking into something heavy and electric.

"Vic?" Chloe called from inside the room. "Is that you? Come help me unpack my shoes."

Victoria tore her gaze away. She forced herself toward the bedroom door, each step demanding deliberate effort to mask how unsteady she’d become.

As she passed Emma in the doorway, the space between them vanished. Victoria could feel the heat radiating from Emma's skin.

Emma leaned in, her voice a bare whisper.

"You were terrified to come downstairs and drink cider with me?"

Victoria’s heart thudded violently against her ribs. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, unable to look Emma in the eye.

"Chloe exaggerates," Victoria murmured, her voice shaking slightly.

Emma let out a quiet exhale. It sounded exactly like a victory.

Victoria walked into the bedroom, leaving Emma standing in the doorway. She realized with certainty that she had lost complete control of the situation.

Behind her, Lucy stepped out of Room 3, joining Emma on the landing. Victoria heard their footsteps moving toward the staircase together.

"Everything alright?" Lucy asked as they started down the stairs.

"Fine," Emma replied. Her voice sounded slightly breathless. "Wait, Lucy. Why are you actually here? Don’t you work on Thursdays?"

"I closed the shop to prep the garlands for tomorrow," Lucy explained. "And I needed to drop off the floral arches anyway."

"Well, save your energy," Emma told her, their voices fading toward the ground floor. "We have to assemble the wooden stalls in the garden this afternoon. You are helping."

"Only if the sister is helping too," Lucy shot back.

"Get outside, Luce," Emma groaned.

Below, the front door clicked shut. Victoria stood near the open suitcase, her thoughts still downstairs in the study where her phone sat face-down on the desk.

"Vic?" Chloe called out from the bathroom, holding up two pairs of heels. "Are we thinking wedges for the mud, or should I just accept my death now?"

Chapter Seventeen

Emma

The Rosebrook Summer Festival officially opened at six o’clock on Friday evening. By six-fifteen, the courtyard was a chaotic masterpiece.