Page 13 of Moonlit Temptation
“Do you hear that?” I murmur, as if the volume of my voice would scare them into silence.
“Yeah,” she says softly, a slow smile pulling the corners of her lips upward.
Nana Jo used to have generations of mourning doves nesting around her yard. It was a point of pride for her. She loved hearing them sing, convinced herself one solo male was Grandpa. She figured since mourning doves mate for life, and he was likely too impatient to wait for her, he'd come back as a mourning dove until they could be reunited again. I'm still unclear about her leaps of logic, but it made her feel good to hear them sing all the same.
She tips her head toward the square-shaped brick building in front of us. “You ever been inside before?”
Four stories tall and wrapped in faded red brick with lots of long, skinny six-paned windows to let the natural light in. The Law Offices of Robert have been here for generation upon generation. If you wanted to be a lawyer and work in Rosewood, then you joined their firm.
Three men all named Robert roomed together in law school, became best friends, and moved to Rosewood to open a law practice. Or so the story goes. I honestly don't even know their last names.
I shake my head slowly, trying to breathe through the anxiety clawing up my throat. “No.”
“Yeah,” Cora says with a sigh. “Me neither. Part of me is glad that they're following her requests to the letter, ya know? I wouldn't put it past some people to conveniently forget to carry out Nana Jo's last wishes.”
I roll my lips inward and hum a noncommittal noise. I don't need to voice my opinion, we're both thinking of the same people.
An iced latte blocks the view of the lawyers office. “Here, I got this for you. Figured you might need it this morning. And before you try to pay me, let me remind you that you wouldn't take my money for ice cream last night.”
I look over my shoulder at my cousin, a smile already tipping my frown around. I accept the caffeinated gift. “Thank you. And you're right, I definitely need this today.”
I've tried my best to not place any expectations on this meeting, and I think I've succeeded. Mostly. But the swirling anxiety buzzing in my gut begs to differ. The truth is Iamnervous.
This feels like the farewell to Nana Jo. Like afinalfarewell. And I just . . . I don't know how to process that, I guess.
I let my gaze trace the edges of their sign, their practice name written in a simple serif font. I catch movement from the corner of my eye, and my muscles freeze on instinct. A bird flies from the tree on the corner, swooping low before soaring high. I let my shoulders fall with an exhale.
“Why do you think she wanted it read individually? Why not have them read it once to everyone?”
Cora sighs. “You know, I've been wondering that myself. Mom and Dad don't know either, but Mom said she'd call me when they’re done.” She pulls out her phone from the pocket of her black sundress and glances at the screen. “Which is in a couple of hours. She's after you, I think. So maybe we'll wait for her.”
I bump my shoulder into hers as she slips her phone back into her pocket. “You don't need to wait for me, you know. I'll be fine. I can catch up with you for dinner or something later.”
She scoffs, but it's a playful sound. “Like I'm going to waste a moment of our summer together? You're stuck with me, babe. Except for the days I have to work. But you can always keep me company in the bakery.”
“Don’t worry. I can keep myself busy easily enough. Though I have missed your blueberry scones.” I smirk as I take a sip of my latte. I never miss a chance to tease her about her well-loved blueberry scones. Mostly because it’s actually my recipe.
“Oh my god,” she says with a laugh, pivoting to face me and pointing her finger at my face. “I knew you cared!”
My smirk turns into a wide smile, a laugh slipping out. “No, I don't mind. I was just teasing you.”
“You say that now, but one of these days, when I become one of those celebrity bakers, we're going to be right here again. Because you're going to sue my assfor stealing your legendary recipe.”
I hide my smile behind my cup and glance at her over the lid. “I mean, I don't know if I would call itlegendary.” I pause for a second, mirth dancing in my veins. “But maybe award-winning. Blue ribbon decorated. Most coveted recipe in Rosewood.”
“Don't forget: marriage proposal inducing.” Cora barely gets the words out before she lets her giggles fly. “Oh my god. Do you remember when Billy Blackthorne proposed to you once he found out you made those scones at the Rosewood festival?”
Her words immediately conjure an image of him. Sweaty face, dark hair swept to the side with too much gel, down on one knee in the middle of the stage.
My shoulders shake with repressed laughter. “How could I forget? He stormed the stage and stole the microphone from the band and got down on one knee and everything. I wasmortified.”
“Oh, Eve,” she says between a wheezing sort of laugh, bending forward a little. “I can still picture the look on his face.”
“Is there something funny about my mother's death, Evangeline?”
7
EVANGELINE
