Not today.
Not ever.
Just as I’m about to reach my truck, I’m stopped by a man in a suit with a look of compassion on his face. “I’m sorry to bother you, Rook,” he says while offering me his hand, “I’m Mr. Holden, your grandfather’s attorney.”
I swallow hard and try to keep my shit together. Just a few more minutes. Then I can fall apart.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holden. Thank you for coming,” I say the words robotically.
“I’d like you to come down to my office in the next few days.” He slips me his card, and I look down at it, a lump forming in my throat. “Please call my office and we’ll set up a time that is good for you.”
“Okay,” I whisper the word, hating this whole situation.
I have no idea what Grandpa’s lawyer needs to speak to me about. A pit forms in my gut, and I have a feeling it won’t be anything good.
Fuck.
Grandpa, I miss you so fucking much.
CHAPTER 3
MEADOW
I should be testing out the new brown sugar icing recipe I’ve been having dreams about, to see if it’ll be better than the one that I used last fall for the apple crisps. They were a hit last year and I have to bring them back this fall but make them better. Some people will doubt my abilities, but I have a plan.
The problem is I need Rook to fully put my plan in motion. But he just buried his grandfather less than a week ago. I can’t call him and tell him to get back to work.
That would be cruel.
And I’m not cruel.
I sawhow wrecked he was at the service. He looked like he was barely holding it together; people came up and gave him their condolences while expecting him to stand tall. Or maybe those were his own expectations.
A sigh slips from my lips as I make myself stand up and I wave my hands around as if to clear away all my thoughts about Rook. It doesn’t work. I can still see his face in my mind and the sadness in his brown eyes.
“You look like you’re battling the fairies,” I hear from behind me, the words filled with amusement.
“Fairies would be an ideal battle opponent,” I sass Gemma as I turn toward where she’s slunk into the kitchen.
I’m not surprised; she’s always here looking for something to snack on. And my girl loves a treat. I’m more than happy to share with her.
And, of course, it’s for work. At least, that’s what we say.
Since Gemma is in charge of our event space, both in planning activities and helping to organize and set-up for when people rent the space, we work together when my baked goods are going to be served. There’s nothing quite like dropping in on a Puff and Paint night to find people enjoying a treat and laughing with their friends while trying their hand at painting.
Not all of their work deserves to find a place on a wall. Still, they have a lot of fun, which counts for a hell of a lot.
There isn’t enough fun once you hit a certain age. Maybe it’s because I still spend time with women who knew me as a girl, who have seen me during my worst years and who keep cheering me on during my best. But we find the fun, and Gemma is the queen of it.
“You’re not making anything,” Gemma eyes me, suspicion written all over her face. “You’re always making something.”
I let out a weary sigh and lean onto the stainless-steel counter, plopping my chin into my hand because laying myself completely over the counter wouldn’t be a good look. Gemma would probably laugh at me, and I’m feeling less than amused.
I’m downright sad.
Rook’s grandfather was a nice man. He was always a little standoffish when I came around, but he wasn’t rude. I got the feeling he was curious about the business Rook is building while being unsure about how to reconcile his entire life with something he would have never considered. Not until a lot of laws changed.
His grandfather might have experienced a lot of changes, but I imagine Rook’s vision of the future was difficult to picture as a possibility.