The Reluctant Heiress: A Novella(34)

Alone.

I’d be totally alone.

My own garden.

I’ve been gardening and growing with Nona most of my life, but without her…

“Gardening isn’t about success or failure,” she says, correctly assuming my thoughts. “It’s about devotion to the process of learning. Plants have much to teach to the right listener.”

I finally look up, meeting her avid gaze. “Shit,” I whisper. “Maine?”





22





three months later




Knocking mud off my boots on the back doorstep, I whine into the phone, “Do I have to?”

Alex laughs. “Yes, dummy. It’s Thanksgiving. It’s the one sacred Hughes holiday.”

“Only because of Nona’s pumpkin pie,” I grumble. As my brother’s laughter fills my ear, I head inside and sit on the bench in the mudroom to untie my boots. Despite removing the excess clumps, they’re still covered in mud thanks to yesterday’s storm.

“Besides, Thea wants to see you.”

I smile at the mention of my soon-to-be sister-in-law. “We talk all the time. That’s how I know you’re driving her crazy.”

Alex groans. “It’s not like I’m the first groom in history who wants to help plan the wedding.”

I make a considering noise. “Yes, yes, you are.”

He snorts. “All I did was suggest a change to the color scheme. She acted like I accused her of torturing animals.”

“Stupid man,” I chortle.

“Clearly.” He sighs. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to reinstate your previous job title?”

“Nope.”

Both he and Thea have been bugging me for weeks to be their wedding planner on the conviction that it will save their marriage. As two creatives, they’ve been continually butting heads about everything from location to size. Thea wants small, Alex wants big. Thea wants rustic, Alex wants modern.

I’ve already decided to do it, but I’m not above letting them sweat a little. Besides, I’ve been busy. Running a farm—however tiny—is a lot of damned work.

Smiling to myself, I think of my farm manager, Jonah McAdams, who would no doubt be thrilled to have me stop working so much. In my quest to dive into the world of agriculture, I’ve driven the poor man crazy.

A gruff man in his sixties, Jonah called me “city girl” for my first month here. But I’ve grown on him, as has my blueberry pie. And his wife, Meghan, loves me, so he’s outnumbered, anyway.

Padding into the kitchen in my socks, I ask, “Did I tell you that I think BlueBell Apples are going to win an award this year?”

“Oh yeah?” asks Alex, sounding equally miffed and surprised. “What award?”

“The county does a fall festival and gives out ribbons for best harvest. I have it on good authority that we’re the frontrunner. Our biggest competition is—”

“Who are you?” he demands. “Put Candace on the phone right now!”

“Ha ha. Shut up. This is exciting!”

He yawns. Obnoxiously. “Whatever you say, sis. Book a ticket. You can’t skip Thanksgiving.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’re stubborn.”

I smirk. “As stubborn as you.”

He grunts. “By the way, Sebastian will be there.”

My throat closes and my eyes follow. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t think about Sebastian, but hearing his name aloud is a particular kind of pain. Not as sharp as it once was, at least, but still potent.

Alex clears his throat. “You know I’m not stupid, right, sis?”

I force a light, teasing tone. “Actually—”

“No bullshit,” he says firmly. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you. Frankly, I don’t want to know. But whenever I mention one of you to the other, you both go quiet and broody. I’m sick of it. You guys need to hash your shit out.”

“There’s nothing to hash out,” I say tiredly. “Something… might have happened, but we decided not to go down that road. It’s too creepy. We’re basically brother and sister.”

“That’s ridiculous. You two are the furthest thing from siblings. And don’t think the rest of us didn’t notice that you guys have been eye-fucking each other since puberty.”

My stomach plummets. “What? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

“Oh, give it a rest,” he says on a small laugh. “You’re grown-ups now—or at least as close to it as you’ll ever be. For the record, it wouldn’t bother me.”

I almost choke. “What?”

“Sure, maybe ten years ago I would have flipped, but now… Well, I kind of think you and Sebastian are made for each other.”

I sink heavily onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “Who are you? Put Alex on the phone right now.”

He laughs, but it trails off swiftly. “I just want you to be happy, Candace. It would kill me to think you didn’t go after something you wanted because of fear of my reaction.”

I rub the frown lines etched on my forehead. “Alex Hughes, all mature and shit.” I sigh. “Look, Sebastian and I—whatever we might have been—is in the past. If you agree to never mention this conversation again, I’ll come to Thanksgiving.”