“Well, those boxes look more than enough.” She places a hand on my arm. “You can set up wherever you want, and then please make yourself comfortable.”
“Oh, I-I couldn’t impose—” I look back at Will and Greg, my head shaking.
“Nonsense,” she interrupts. “You and the boys have fun. I will leave you to it.” She winks, then wanders off before I can interject.
“Will works with some hot guys,” Greg whispers. “Just an observation.”
If he thinks I am interested in meeting some stuck-up suit, he is sorely mistaken.
“Come on, let’s set up in the garden,” I suggest, rolling my eyes.
An hour later, I stand back and look at my masterpiece—layers of beautiful petit fours, between fresh summer fruit. It’s incredible. I take a picture and send it to Brody. I get a thumbs-up back.
“That is quite impressive.” I turn toward the voice. A man who I swear is the older version of Ember, is eyeing my display. “Very creative.”
“Uhm, thank you,” I respond. I feel my brows knit together. “Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”
“Well, I am the best realtor in the state.” He laughs heartily. “Edmund Dale.”
“That’s probably it. I’m Shelby Brooks.”
“This is delightful,” Reagan remarks walking up to where her husband and I stand at the display. “I have to get my daughter to take a photo of this.” She looks around the garden.
She disappears into the crowd, and a few minutes later, she emerges with Marcy.
“Shelby?” Marcy’s grin is wide. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” She leans in for a hug. Her parents are chatting to a couple, their focus off us.
“A friend of mine works for your dad.” I smile. And then it hits me that this is Ember’s family. No wonder he’s here. “And their baker canceled,” I explain.
“It’s good to see you; you left in a hurry the last time I saw you.” She nibbles on her lower lip, obviously trying not to express what’s on her mind.
“Yeah.” I let out a sigh, not wanting to offer much more than that. The truth is, I don’t want to put her in an awkward situation. Ember is her brother, after all.
“Let me get a shot. The vultures are circling,” she says lightheartedly. I am glad for the change in subject. My gaze roams the garden and my eyes land on the treehouse in the far corner. I find myself walking toward it. It’s perched high on an oak tree, a ladder propped against its trunk. It’s old but steady. There’s a modern cottage a few feet from the tree, bigger than my house. My hand traces the bark and the lettering E and M. I smile, remembering the story Ember told me.
“Hard to imagine, isn’t it.” His voice sends shivers down my spine. He walks up next to me, looking up at the treehouse and then over to the cottage behind it.
“What is?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Thatthisused to be a home.”
“It still is; it’s beautiful here.” I motion around us.
“Just not what I grew up with.” There’s a bite in his comment. Something tells me he doesn’t get along with his parents. I just imagined it differently from the way he described them the other day at the market.
“Change is inevitable,” I tell him with a small smile.
“I suppose.” His dark gaze falls on me. “Sorry...about before.” He looks down at the ground.
“Water under the bridge,” I tell him and mean it. “I overreacted.”
“And I’m sorry about the other night.”
“You don’t have to explain.” I raise a hand. “It’s none of my business. It’s not like we’re seeing each other.”
He nods, looks up at the tree again. “It’s good to see you again. You look beautiful.” His gaze flits down to me, roaming over my dress.
I feel heat climb up my cheeks at the way he’s looking at me. It makes my heart rate speed up.
