“I need to start on your roof. How about we argue about this later?”
She huffed out a breath.
“Mr. Swanson told me to tell you hello.”
Aunt Midge rolled her eyes. “I bet he did. That old fuddy-duddy has been trying to get me to go out with him ever since your uncle Sal passed away.”
Brent blinked, trying to imagine her dating. No, that just seemed . . . wrong!
“I’m not interested in seeing anyone.” Her expression brightened. “Now, you, on the other hand, should be. After all, you’re nearing thirty!” She rubbed her hand over his bicep. “Your mother told me you and Tara broke up. What on earth happened? I thought you two were so happy.”
So did I.
He shrugged as if Tara hadn’t broken both his heart and trust. “It just didn’t work out.”
“But she’s not all that’s bothering you, is it? I can tell.”
“I’m changing into cargo shorts before I climb up on the roof. I’ll need the pockets up there.” He walked to the detached garage.
“Brent,” Aunt Midge began, marching after him with her slippers slapping the pavement, “I’ll let you get away with changing the subject this time, but you are going to tell me what’s going on with you.”
He heaved a sigh as he punched in the code on the garage keypad, then waited as the door hummed and lifted before placing the bag of nails and hammer on his uncle’s workbench in the back.
“I’m making your favorite meal tonight,” Aunt Midge said from right behind him.
He turned and smiled. “The best meal.”
She gave his cheek a pat. “Only the best for my favorite nephew.”
“I’m your only nephew,” he deadpanned.
“That’s right, and you’ll stay that way until you get married and give me more nieces or nephews. You know, my sister over in South Carolina, Beverly, already has three great-grandchildren. Three! And I have zero little ones to brag about.” She held up her hand, making a round shape with her fingers, then strolled out of the garage.
Leaving his aunt plucking weeds from a flower bed, Brent headed into the house through the back door and made his way through the kitchen, dining room, and family room into the hallway that led to the guest bathroom, two guest rooms, and master bedroom. After assessing all the work to be done, he knew the house better than ever.
Halting in front of the sea of photos lining the hall walls, he took in Kylie’s high school senior portrait. With his younger sister’s light-brown hair, hazel eyes, and bright smile, she resembled their mother.
Brent smiled at a few more photos of his beautiful sister but then groaned when he found the senior year prom portrait of him and Britney. He’d asked Aunt Midge to take it down when he visited last Christmas, but she insisted she loved that photo too much to do it. “You looked so handsome,” she said.
Brent took in his huge smile, looking as if he was living in the moment without a care in the world. And except for his father’s constant pushing, he had been.
Britney, of course, looked like a supermodel, just as she always had. Her simple, powder-blue dress and subtle makeup accentuated her bright, baby-blue eyes. With her high cheekbones, petite frame, and bright smile, she’d lit up every room she entered. He’d had a crush on her in middle school and finally found the nerve to ask her out to a movie their freshman year of high school. They’d been inseparable from then on.
Brent snorted. Life had seemed so easy back then. He’d had a full scholarship to UNC Chapel Hill plus his beautiful girlfriend, Britney Sawyer, the woman of his dreams. He was certain they’d build a future together after they’d graduated college and he’d found a high-paying corporate job of some kind.
Until he lost his scholarship and then Britney, his whole world crumbling. But that was old news. Britney Sawyer was in his past, his feelings for her long gone, and so was football.
He entered the guest room he’d chosen to sleep in and dug his cargo shorts out of his duffel bag. After changing, he headed back outside to grab the tallest ladder in the garage, eager to turn his thoughts elsewhere. But as he stared up at the house’s roof in desperate need of attention, he realized just how different his life was now from what he’d expected it to be when he was that high school senior.
Well, he might not know what he’d do after finishing his work here, but at least he could look forward to his favorite meal tonight—Aunt Midge’s fried chicken.
* * *
Christine smiled as a young woman carried a set of vintage pink Pyrex mixing bowls to the counter. “You must have found those in the Simply Southern booth,” she said as she managed a smile and pulled the tag off the bowls. Business had been good, but she was kind of tired and just glad it was Saturday so she’d have the next two days off.
“I did.” The woman pushed a lock of her straight, nearly black hair over her shoulder. “I’ve been looking for more pieces to match the ones my grandmother gave me.”
“I knew these wouldn’t last long. They’re beautiful.” As Christine rang up the purchase, her cell phone chimed with a text message under the counter. But she ignored it.
She shared the total, and the woman slipped her credit card into the machine. Then Christine printed out her receipt and set the bowls in a box.
“I noticed one of the booths is empty now,” the woman said as she slipped her card back into her wallet.
“Yes, that’s right. Melissa’s Creations. Her husband was transferred to Ohio.”
“Oh, well, that’s good for her family, I suppose, but I’ll miss browsing her cute displays.” She dropped her wallet into her large tote, then placed it on top of the bowls before lifting the box with both hands.
“If you run into anyone who might be interested in the booth space, please let me know,” Christine said as she held the front door open for her.
“I will. Have a great day.”
Back at the counter, Christine retrieved her phone and found a text from Britney.
Game night at my house. 7 p.m. Don’t be late.
Christine chuckled as she shook her head. Her sister always knew how to get straight to the point.
Yes, ma’am. What can I bring?
Just my daughters’ favorite twin aunt.
She smiled down at the framed photo of her sweet nieces she kept on the counter. Especially with their bright-blue eyes, they resembled Britney and Christine’s look at their age. But like their mother’s and aunt’s, their faces were different. Maddy’s was longer while Mila’s was rounder. And Maddy’s hair was a dirty blond, like Christine’s, and Mila’s was a sunshine blond, like Britney’s.
She was never too tired to spend time with her nieces. They were the light of her life, and she would never dare appear at their house without a surprise for them. She’d stop by the local bakery before grabbing a quick dinner at home. Their favorite iced cookies were always a hit.
A meow sounded before Wanda hopped up on the counter and rubbed her head against Christine’s arm. “I suppose your sudden need for love means you’re hungry again, huh, Wanda?”
Pietro appeared at Christine’s feet and rubbed his head on her shin.
“That’s a yes from both of you, then.” Christine checked the time on her phone and found it was almost five. Then she started toward the back of the store. “Come on, you two. I’ll fill your bowls and give you plenty of fresh water before I start closing up.”