Page 35 of From Grumpy to Forever
She had her back to me as I approached. Her fingers grazed over the old, weathered wood. The paint had most peeled off, but the carved words were still easy to read.
Not wanting to startle her, I cleared my throat. “Figured you could use this.” I held out a glass when she turned.
“Thanks.” She accepted the glass with a small smile and turned back to the sign. “I guess we should put this on the list, too.”
I nodded and took a sip. “Are you keeping the name?”
Avery exhaled slowly before turning to face me. “I think so. But there’s part of me that wants to make it my own.”
I nodded. That made sense.
“But…” She tilted her head toward the backyard. “See those trees?”
I followed her gaze past the house where two tall larch trees stood side by side, their branches swaying a little in the evening breeze. They were full, their soft needles green for the summer. But in the fall, they’d turn a brilliant bright yellow before dropping their needles for the winter. The only coniferous trees to do so, larches were spectacularly beautiful. They’d be a perfect backdrop for the freshly painted inn in a few months.
“They’re beautiful trees,” I said honestly.
“My grandparents planted them when they opened the inn.” Her voice was soft. “They told me the trees were a symbol of strength and togetherness but also change because every year the larches would drop their needles and prepare for a new season.”
“It sounds like your grandparents put a lot of heart into this place.”
“They did.” She took a sip of wine, watching the trees with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “They built something they thought would last. I think that’s why I’m struggling with all this. The renovations, the name…” She waved a hand and let it drop to her side. “I just want to get it right, you know?”
“You will.” I studied her for a moment. She was determined—that much I already knew—but there was something else behind her words. Passion. Love.
Any lingering concerns I might have had that Avery was going to come into town and change this place, the way so many other city folk did, vanished in that moment. She cared. Deeply.
“Do you really think so?” She turned to me, her eyes searching mine.
“I do.” I meant it. “It’s easy to see how you feel about this place. And no matter what you decide, it’s still yours, and your grandparents will be proud. It doesn’t have to look exactly the way they left it. But it has to mean something to you.”
“Wow.” Avery breathed out a small laugh. “That almost sounded wise.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I shook my head and took a sip of my wine.
She smiled again and turned back to the trees.
I let the silence stretch between us, the weight of the history of the place settling between us. For a moment, I could picture the trees, now tall and strong, the way her grandparents would have seen them when they planted them. Small, full of promise and hope.
After a moment, Avery broke the silence. “Sorry. Didn’t you say you had something you needed to talk to me about?”
* * *
Avery
I’d been so distracted by my own thoughts, that I’d almost forgotten that Reid wanted to talk to me about something.
Almost.
Together, we made our way back to the porch.
“Okay,” I said when we finally sat down on the steps. “Lay it on me. What do you need to talk to me about?”
“I told you it’s not bad.”
I tilted my head in skepticism, and he laughed.
“Really. It’s not.” His eyes crinkled in the corners when he laughed.
