Barbara continued, “Forgive me, sweetheart. I’m on edge today. Feeling a bit, I don’t know, lost.”
The peculiar look that flashed across her mother’s face gave Gillian pause. “Mom, if I’ve made you feel left out of anything planning-wise—”
“No,” Barbara interrupted, stepped toward her daughter, and gave her a quick hug. “I didn’t mean that. All is well. I’m having a grand time with the wedding.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Honey, you’ve managed to hit an almost perfect balance with the trifecta of roles you are performing—daughter, bride, and wedding planner. As a daughter, well, we’re almost through this, and you and I are still friends. As the bride, you’ve been respectful of Jeremy’s wishes and vision, and of your own, too, without stepping on anyone’s toes too hard. As a wedding planner, you’ve excelled. Event planning fits your skill set to a tee, and I’m so glad I need not concern myself with all the details.”
Barbara gestured toward the window and added, “I love the display design, sweetheart. You are really very good at everything you do.”
“Except nursing a fiancé sick with the flu,” Gillian replied with a bite in her voice.
“Oh, honey.” Barbara threw her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Don’t take it to heart, and remember your grandmother’s always appropriate marital advice: This, too, shall pass.”
Gillian smiled wistfully at the mention of her grandmother, gone now for almost four years. “You know who sort of reminds me of Nana, despite being her total opposite in most regards?”
Barbara didn’t hesitate. “Angelica Blessing.”
“Yes.” Gillian gave the window one last look. “Angelica predicts I’m going to have a fabulous year this year.”
“I’m going to agree with her. I think you’re gonna be happy as a clam, Gillian. You just need to get past this fluey start first.”
* * *
“What is wrong with this picture?” Jackson asked as he toted a box past Tucker to set near a stack of them sitting beside the checkout counter.
“I’m taking a break,” he replied.
“Obviously. You’re standing around staring aimlessly out the window when there’s plenty of work to be done.”
Tucker wasn’t staring aimlessly. He was watching Gillian Thacker. This was the first time he’d seen her since New Year’s Eve. Well, if he didn’t count seeing her in his dreams, that was.
That dance and that kiss had been a big mistake.
“Move your butt, cousin,” Jackson said. “There’s still half a trailer yet to unload. It needs to be done before lunch because I’m not coming back after the meeting at the bank.”
“What meeting at the bank?”
“You need to start checking your email now that you’re a businessman. Boone sent an email about it yesterday. The bank needs signatures for our accounts, and apparently, Jones likes to do the meet-and-greet for any new business. He’s going to take us to lunch afterward. Goodwill gesture and all of that.”
Jeremy. Wasn’t that just ducky? “Well, I guess as long as the banker is buying, I’d better work my ass off so I have an extra big appetite.” Tucker cast one last glance toward Gillian, then returned his attention to the boxes. “Remind me why we’re doing all the work when this whole storefront thing is Boone’s idea?”
“Because we’re idiots. And Boone is … Boone.”
Tucker simply sighed. For the next two hours, he and Jackson hauled and opened boxes, assembled shelves, and hung pegboard. They unloaded the trailer filled with the antique desk, chair, and bookcases they’d stored since remodeling the Fallen Angel Inn and wrestled them upstairs. Slowly, the space began to take shape. A little after eleven as curses flew while they worked together to level a shelf, Jackson grumbled, “This would be easier with another set of hands.”
“Maybe we should ask the banker to help us over here instead of buying us lunch,” Tucker suggested.
After much effort, ten minutes before they were due to leave for lunch, they finally managed to fix the shelf properly to the wall. They stood observing their handiwork with their hands shoved in their back pockets when a voice spoke from behind, “It needs to come up some on the left.”
Tucker and Jackson both hung their heads and then shared a look. Simultaneously, without turning around, they both lifted a hand and shot the speaker the bird.
“Now, isn’t that a nice way to greet a visitor,” Boone said.
Tucker scowled at Jackson. “He’s here again? It’s not that easy to get here from Eternity Springs. Why is he here again?”
Jackson shrugged, then his brows winged up. “Are you seeing Maisy Baldwin?”
“What?” Boone asked. “No. She’s awfully cute, and she thinks I’m cute too, but there wasn’t any sizzle. We’re friends.”
“I think Maisy is sweet on the guy from New Year’s Eve,” Tucker told Jackson. Then he arched a brow toward Boone. “How long have you been skulking around outside while we’ve been in here working?”
“Hey, that’s insulting.” He waited a beat and added, “Ten minutes, maybe. You guys were a hoot.”
“Jerk.” Tucker shot him the finger again for good measure, then observed, “This is a surprise. Is anything wrong?”
“No. All is well. Mark and Annabelle Callahan have been in Eternity Springs visiting Brick and his crew, and they flew back to Texas last night. I hitched a ride on their plane, and drove down from Brazos Bend this morning.” He shrugged and added, “I was feeling left out.”
Tucker snorted. “I don’t see how. You’re in my business every time I turn around.”
“That’s because I’m a businessman, not a recluse.”
“I’m not a recluse, and you’re not a businessman. You’re a damned lawyer.”
“I’m both a damned lawyer and a businessman. Luckily for you, I’m willing to share my expertise in both areas.” Boone folded his arms and made a slow inspection of the room. “This is gonna be great. Even better than I expected. Have you tackled anything upstairs in the classroom area yet?”
“No,” Jackson drawled. “You can help us haul the benches upstairs after lunch.”
Boone’s brows arched. “The delivery guys didn’t do that?” Jackson and Tucker shook their heads. “Why the hell not?”
“The guy who arranged for delivery didn’t spring for the upcharge,” Tucker explained with a smirk. “Tightfisted S.O.B.”
“Damn. Sorry.” Boone winced, then shrugged it off. “Oh well. We’re manly men. We can handle it.”
Jackson checked his watch. “After lunch. It’s almost time to head over to the bank.”
“Excellent,” Boone said. “Before we go, I have one little task to accomplish. Have you noticed the flagpole brackets on the canopy out front?”
“No,” Jackson said, glancing toward the Main Street entrance.
“Not that front,” Tucker corrected. “The other front. The courtyard entrance. I noticed them. There are three of them.”