“He’s a great guy. I just—” Ava picked up a spatula and flipped the eggs. “I’ve been taking care of Sarah since I was nineteen and I never learned how to”—she waved the spatula in the air—“do all that.”
“ ‘That’ as in ‘dating.’ ”
Ava nodded. “He’s asked me out a bunch of times, but I keep shutting him down. He’s noticed, too. I think he’s giving me some space, at least for now. I just… Ella, I don’t know how to do the whole dating thing. I mean, look at me.” She gestured to her overalls. “Who would want to date this?”
“Dylan, that’s who. Ava, I know the signs. That guy likes you. Why not give him a chance?”
“Because I’m afraid it won’t work, that’s why.” She eyed Ella with a touch of jealousy. “You’ve never felt like that, have you? You’ve dated more men than all the rest of us combined, and you never care how it ends, so long as it does.”
For some reason, that stung a little. Ella didn’t usually concern herself with other people’s opinions, but hearing such a thing from her own sister felt… personal.
Shaking off her reaction, she shrugged. “I’m not dating anyone now, which I’m glad about. The last one was a bit clingy.” They all eventually got that way, or so it seemed. Ella reached across the counter and refilled her coffee cup, then topped off Ava’s.
Just past Ava was the shiny refrigerator, and Ella could see her and Ava’s reflections in it. It was easy to see they were sisters: they were both blond, about the same height, and had the same Dove gray-green eyes. But that was where the similarities ended. Ella wore makeup, which Ava eschewed, and Ella was far curvier, a size twelve, the effect of years of tasting her own creations. She didn’t trust rail-thin chefs. As Aunt Jo often said while patting her own belly, “They don’t call it a baker’s dozen for no reason. A hungry baker is a bad baker.”
Ava placed the eggs, bacon, and toast onto the waiting plates and then set one in front of Ella. She slid the butter dish her way. “What are you going to do today?”
That was a good question. Ella hadn’t told either of her sisters the real reason she’d come home because she hadn’t wanted to face their disappointment that her visit wasn’t just to see them. All she’d said was that she had a week or so off before she was due in New York. It had taken a lot of beguiling and a new peach scone recipe Ella had just developed to get Aunt Jo to not spill the tea.
Aware of Ava’s sharp gaze, Ella buttered her toast. “Tiff needs more vids. Maybe I’ll head downtown and see if I can find some good material there.” Before that, Ella would try one more time to get Angela to answer the door. If that didn’t work, then she might see if she could get some traction by talking to Mark. He’d always been kind to Ella, and she could see from his expression that he regretted not allowing her to speak to his grandmother. Jules is the real problem. If I can’t reach Angela today, then I’ll see if I can get a few words with Mark when his mother isn’t around, and get his help arranging a meeting.
It was a long shot, but it was all she had. Hoping she didn’t have to try that route, Ella picked up another piece of bacon. “So… what sort of meal are you going to cook for Kristen and Dylan this evening?”
“A pot roast.” Ava shrugged, although there was a pleased look on her face. “After dinner, I think I’ll suggest we play a board game. Maybe Scrabble.”
“Ooh la la! The romance of a good game of Scrabble. Be still my heart!”
Ava laughed. “Yeah, it’s so romantic. By the way, while you’re downtown, stop by the tearoom. Aunt Jo is bringing us some cupcakes decorated like zoo animals. They’ll photograph super well. People love cupcakes.”
That held some promise. “I’ll stop by later today.”
“Sounds good.” Ava nodded, then tucked into her breakfast.
They chatted for another ten minutes or so, and then, while Ella washed the dirty dishes, Ava left. The dishes done, Ella dried her hands and stopped by the large mirror in the front hallway to apply some lipstick and slip her feet into her red peep-toe kitten heels. She picked up her purse and headed out.
She drove past the Stewart house and was frustrated to see that both Mark’s and Jules’s vehicles were still in the driveway. Ella considered going home, but the thought of sitting in the house alone didn’t appeal to her. Perhaps she’d kill some time and drive around while she waited for Mark and Jules to go to work.
Ella left and went through town, and then found herself driving down the windy county roads that she used to delight in as a teenager with her music blaring and her windows down. Golden and green fields framed by the blue-green mountains raced by. Aunt Jo was right about one thing: it was beautiful here.
She turned off County Road 9 and found herself passing the farm Gray had purchased. The old two-story Victorian farmhouse was set back from the road. It had large windows, a charming bow window in the front, and a wraparound porch. Two white vans and a large black work truck with a trailer sat in the drive, and there were so many men carrying wood, hammers, and saws streaming in and out of the house that it made her think of a kicked-over anthill.
She slowed, her gaze moving down the long drive to the large red barn that sat to one side of the house. Gray’s bright orange ’89 Ford pickup was parked there, although there was no sign of him, which was good. I don’t want to see him. Not even a little.
And yet… she caught herself looking for him. It was funny, but she wished they were still friends, which was an odd thing to want from an ex-boyfriend. Certainly it was the first time she’d ever had such a thought about any of her exes, and there had been dozens. It’s because we were friends first.
Although they’d been (and still were) polar opposites in just about every way, they’d been close in high school. She was outgoing and had tons of friends and lots of dates, while he’d been a quiet, silent sort who watched the world through a dark lens. He had a few close friends, but he rarely dated. It wasn’t because he wasn’t lusted after—because he was. Tall, lanky, with dark hair, sleepy eyes of pale blue, and a poet’s angst about life, he was irresistible to most of the girls in their high school but never seemed to realize it.
Ella had known him better than anyone else, and knew he wasn’t the romantic soul the cheerleading squad thought him to be. Instead, he was a boss-level worrier, intrinsically negative, unreasonably picky, and deeply shy. She’d teased him about it, too. Maybe more than she should have. It was no surprise that they’d drifted apart.
She glanced at the clock and realized it was almost eleven. Surely Mark and Jules would be heading to the Moonlight by now. She left Gray’s farm in the rearview mirror and headed back to the Stewart house.
The driveway was blissfully empty, so Ella pulled into her now-regular parking spot. She stepped out into the late-morning warmth, headed up the walkway to the porch, and rang the bell. She could hear the dulcet tones of the bell echoing in the house as she waited. But no one came.
Rolling her eyes, she rang the bell again. This time, on impulse, she pressed her ear to the thick wooden door.
At first, she didn’t hear anything, which she’d expected, anyway. Still, stubbornness made her stay where she was. She reached over and rang the bell again.