“The best,” she said proudly.
I held out my index finger when Tierney reached for my necktie. Her tiny fist tightened around it. “As for my dad, things aren’t okay, and that’s okay. If that makes any sense. I finally met with him, after the story was published, and let him say everything he wanted to say. And then he let me say everything I needed to say. And nothing changed. As far as I’m concerned, we have closure. He’s not happy about it, but that’s not my problem. I suspect he was only trying to make nice with me to get me to come back to the family business and bring my trust money. And that’s not happening.”
Delaney threw his head back and laughed as Janice gestured with her wicker basket purse and nearly knocked the ladle out of a nearby punch bowl.
I glanced at Tam. “I’m using that money to help Delaney establish the permanent E. Winters collection in an art exhibition wing here in the library. Don’t tell him, though. Right now, I’m still negotiating with the head of the town council to get approval on the expansion before pitching the idea to Delaney. I know he wants to set up a permanent collection, but he hasn’t been able to find a place to properly care for it. With my trust fund, I can endow a foundation for local art like this here in town.”
Tam’s eyes filled as she looked at me. “That’s amazing. He’s going to freak out when you tell him. But he’s also going to insist on helping pay for it.”
I glanced back at the man I loved, holding court here in this quirky small town—a place neither of us thought we’d ever quite fit in. “I look forward to the negotiations with him. I’m sure we can get creative,” I murmured.
And later that week, in the warm lighting of our jam cupboard, we got very, very creative indeed.
EPILOGUE
DELANEY
A year and a half later
“Delaney, get over here!”Brewer shouted from across the large new deck on the back of the house. “Cheese or no cheese on your burger?”
Hayes nudged me. “He’s calling for you, bro. Tell him double cheese for me and my boo. Gracias.”
“You tell him,” I said before thinking up a reason to head back into the house. Unfortunately, Brewer caught me at the back door.
“Come with me,” he growled, pulling me by the elbow toward the monstrosity he called a grill.
“Oh, no, thank you,” I said airily. “Important things in the kitchen. Must fetch them. BRB, love.”
“Delaney Patrick Monroe,” he snapped. “Contrary to your belief, you are not a danger to those you love while in proximity to a grill. Get over here and handle my cheese.”
“You make it sound dirty,” I muttered, following obediently now that I was caught out. “And, look, any number of our friends and family could have helped you with your little cheese problem.”
The deep rumble of his laugh helped mitigate my nerves as we approached the Master Grill Station Ten Thousand or whatever the hell this thing was called. “You’remy little cheese problem. You offered for everyone to put in special cheese requests on their burgers and then left me to manage six variations of cheese options.” He pointed to the tray with all of the gourmet slices on it. “Who wants what?”
I began to tick everyone’s preferences off on my fingers. “Samuel wants Gouda, Oliver wants cheddar, Derry wants?—”
“Numbers, babe. How many of each?”
I handed him the slices and watched as he tossed them onto the patties, as if being this close to an open flame was no big deal. Thankfully, Teeny sensed my nerves and appeared at my side as she always did.
“Hey, big girl,” I murmured, tangling a hand into her fluffy ruff. “I know you asked for five slices of Kraft American, but this house has standards, remember? We talked about it. No more square cheese product. It’s because we love you. Studies show?—”
She cut me off with a littlewoofof complaint.
“Don’t think she likes your studies, babe,” Brewer said.
“She liked the one about treat frequency versus tail-wag intensity,” I reminded him before turning to greet Chris and Reed Sunday. “Good God, is that a baby?” I blurted. “Your surrogate gave birth?”
Chris beamed at me, holding the blanket-wrapped raisin proudly. “Meet Andrew Dante Sunday. He’s three weeks old today.”
Reed’s big hand splayed on Chris’s lower back as he smiled lovingly down at his little family. “How could you not have known? My brothers took out an ad in theGazetteand the Little Pippin Hollow newspaper. I’m surprised they didn’t ask theNew York Timesto run an article about it.”
Brewer leaned around me to gaze at the wrinkly newborn. The way his face softened made my nonexistent ovaries twitch a little. “Looks like a charcuterie specialist in the making. Well done, guys.”
Chris teared up. “You think? Gosh, that would be amazing! He could work side by side with me and?—”
“Already got him a Nerf gun,” Reed cut in. “Proper weapons handling needs to start from the cradle. Ask any operative.”
