Page 27 of All You Need Is Macchiato

She leaves me with my reports and my certainly-not-fear. Outside, Connor is showing Kathryn the festival layout. She's taking notes on that tablet of hers, every inch the capable professional she is.

Except for how she handles each interaction with genuine care. How she remembers every vendor's name. How she's nothing like what I'm trying to convince myself she is.

I turn back to my desk, but the numbers blur in front of me. Some decisions are harder to stick to than others.

I spend the afternoon doing things that definitely don't need my personal attention. Reorganizing the supply closet. Double-checking reservation confirmations. Teaching Lisa, our newest desk clerk, the proper way to fold towels.

"Um, thanks?" She eyes the stack of perfectly folded linens. "Though I'm pretty sure guests don't actually measure the corners."

"Details matter."

"Right." She shares a look with Jameson, who's been watching me with barely concealed amusement.

"Is this about why Kathryn left looking like she wanted to throw something?" he asks.

"Don't you have activities to coordinate?"

"Actually," Jameson leans against the counter, "I thought we could talk about why you're hiding in the linen closet instead of helping plan the harvest festival."

"I'm not hiding. I'm working."

"You color-coded the guest information packets." He picks one up. "Twice."

Before I can defend the importance of proper organization, Aunt Evie appears. "Nolan, would you help me with something in the garden?"

It's not a request. I follow her out to the terrace, where the mountain laurel blooms are fading but still beautiful. She settles onto a bench, patting the space beside her.

"I'm actually pretty busy?—"

"Sit."

I sit.

"Connor tells me you spent an hour this morning explaining the proper way to stack firewood."

My cousin has been running his mouth. Not that I’m surprised.

"Nolan." Her voice gentles. "What are you doing?"

"My job."

"No." She gestures to the mountains beyond, painted in late afternoon light. "You're doing what you always do whensomething matters too much. You're burying yourself in details so you don't have to look at the bigger picture."

"There is no bigger picture." But even I don't believe it anymore. "It's business. The festival, the coffee shop, all of it."

"Is that what you told yourself when you wrote that wish?"

I start. "How did you?—"

"I didn't." Her eyes twinkle. "But you just confirmed my suspicion."

Sometimes I forget how crafty she can be.

"It doesn't matter anyway." I stand, needing to move. "Kathryn has her plans, her partnership with Cam. She doesn't need my help."

"Partnership?" Aunt Evie's voice sharpens. "Is that what you think is happening?"

"I know what I saw."

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