“I’m always going to try,” I tell her.
“Acknowledged. Never going to happen.”
“Acknowledged.”
We’ve just gotten our orders when the door opens and Lily Greene walks in, looking as vigorous as ever with her perfectly set white hair and Lilly Pulitzer dress. She spots us right away.
“Is Memorial Day the new Christmas?” she asks. “How delightful to have you both in town. I assume you’ll be heading to the cemetery soon. Have you bought flowers yet?”
“Not yet, Miss Lily,” Grace tells her. “What do you recommend?”
“I recommend you not buy flowers, that’s what. I’ve got an overabundance of lilies-of-the-valley, and if you don’t mind walking over to the cemetery with me, I’d be pleased to share them with you. I think your Ruth will love them.”
“Grammy loved lilies,” I say. “We’d be happy to walk over with you.”
She orders her tea and joins our table, her gaze on the rain outside. “It ought to clear shortly. These things don’t last long this close to summer. Now tell me, my dears. What brings you both back to Creekville today?”
Grace catches her up on getting Noah moved to Charleston, but of course, Miss Lily already knows all about it. She’d nudged them along a couple of times. She does that sometimes if she doesn’t believe things are moving at the correct pace. You rarely ever feel her doing it, but many a Creekville resident has suddenly found themselves exactly where Miss Lily thought they should be. And when. And with who.
Er, whom. She’d been my dad’s English teacher, so I’d better get that right.
“And you, dear?” Miss Lily asks, her guileless blue eyes fluttering to me.
“You know Camp Oak Crest?”
“Of course. You worked there in college.”
“Right.” I try to not look discomfited by her extraordinary recall and catch her up on the grand reopening.
“And you’re their star attraction for this gala,” she says. “It’s generous for you to come back so often to help us out.”
“It is,” Grace agrees. I smile at her, having done her a similar favor over Christmas. That, and nudging her to give Noah a shot.
I have no idea she means to return the favor until she leans toward Miss Lily with a conspiratorial smile. “Also, her first love turned out to be the silent partner in this reopening, and he orchestrated this whole thing so he could get her back to the camp and rekindle something.”
My jaw drops as Miss Lily’s eyes sparkle. “Do tell.”
I glare at Grace. “Natalie told you.”
She doesn’t deny it. “You heard Miss Lily. Do tell.”
“There’s not much to tell.” I begin the delicate process of sidestepping their questions. “It’s not a rekindling thing.” At least, itbetternot be, but who knew after his sunrise dock picnic suggestion? “We’re rebuilding a friendship so our mutual friends aren’t always caught in the middle.”
“Was he truly your first love?” Miss Lily asks.
“Yes,” Grace confirms.
“And how is the rebuilding going?”
“Fine,” I say.
“But there’s nothing more?” Miss Lily presses.
“How could there be more?” I shift in my seat, not liking the full weight of her attention. “I haven’t spoken to him in nine years.”
“Until this week,” Grace corrects me.
“And it’s going well?” Miss Lily asks.
