Page 99 of Sweet Somethings

"Really?"

"It's a small town. Our circles sometimes intersected. I don't think she knew anything about the romance I had with Vincent. I never told her, and I don't think he did, either."

"Did you ever come close to marrying anyone else?"

Cecelia shook her head. "No. I never met a man who touched my heart in that way. There were some men I cared for. One I lived with for a while, but he eventually left when he realized my heart was not there for him. I wasn't really lonely; I had Martha."

"Wait! What happened to Martha's fiancé?"

"He finished medical school and decided he didn't want to marry her after she'd waited all those years. So he broke it off."

"And she never found anyone else, either?"

"Actually, she did. She was engaged again in her thirties, but that man died in a freak skiing accident. After that, she gave up on love. She said we were destined to be spinster sisters. She was right. She's been there for me, and I've been there for her."

She thought about Cecelia's words as another thought occurred to her. "Is Martha why you never talked to Vincent after his wife died? Did you feel like you couldn't break the sister spinster bond? Because surely you must have thought about it."

"I might have had a passing thought, but it was too late. Thirty years had passed before his wife died. He had a son, a grandson. Our time was over."

"It's never too late," she said, daring to push a little, because it was clear that whatever Cecelia had felt for Vincent, it was still there.

"You say that because you are young, because you still see forever. I see my time left in years."

"Then you should make the most of those years."

"Martha and I are a pair. We're the Grayson sisters."

"You'd still be sisters. If she loves you, she'd want you to be happy, just as you'd want her to be happy if the situation were reversed."

"I don't know about that," Cecelia said. "Martha can be very controlling. She's a lot like my father. Even if I wanted to try…I'm sure Vincent still hates me. He can't even say hello to me when our paths cross. He always looks away."

"Maybe he needs a reason to keep looking—a smile, a welcome. One of you has to make the first move. And it has to be you, because you're the one who broke things off. You have to be the one to take the risk now."

"I don't know if I could."

"You should go to the dance tonight. Vincent will be there. What better time to reconnect than at the Sweetheart's Dance?"

"I'm sure Vincent won't go to that. He's not a dancer."

"He might go. Roman is trying to talk him into it."

Cecelia smiled. "So you and Roman have a plan, do you?"

"It's mostly my plan," she admitted. "It only extends to getting you both in the same place. The rest is up to you. I will say one thing, though. When I told Vincent that Roman found love letters hidden away in the house, he was shaken. I think he bought the house because you once lived there."

"I wondered about that when I heard that he had purchased it. I loved that house, and I especially loved the backyard. We had a hammock between the trees back then. I used to sit there in the summer and dream about my life, my love, my future. But Vincent didn't share my love for the house. He said those walls kept me away from him. In that house, my father was king. I couldn't go against him. And Vincent and I could never meet there." She paused. "I didn't understand why he would buy my old home."

And now she understood exactly why Vincent wanted to change it. "I have this crazy idea that he wants to rip down the walls that kept you apart. It won't be your father's house anymore; it will be his…maybe yours."

"That would be insane. It's been so many years, and so many people lived there after me. You lived there."

"I loved that house, too," she said, wondering why it felt suddenly more like Cecelia's home than hers. "I was devastated when I had to leave. When I came back here, I told myself one day I would buy it. But then I saw that the Prescotts were changing it completely, and at first, it really threw me. I felt like they were tearing up my past."

"I understand, dear."

"But now I'm starting to realize that the house has seen more stories than mine. It was foolish to think it was waiting for me to come back." She paused. "Will you come to the dance tonight? If not for Vincent, just come and have fun. I'll be there. I'm bringing desserts."

"I'll think about it," Cecelia said, as she got to her feet.

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