Page 42 of 15 Summers Later

“Yes, but it’s been years. When Tilly remarried, the reception was here, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you came home for that. Well, lucky for Tilly, she married a man who loves to garden and he has created a mountain paradise back there.”

Ava forced a smile. “Great. I can’t wait to see it.”

“We’ll stop inside first to drop off my salad and brownies and see if Tilly needs help with anything.”

“Good idea,” Ava lied, when she really wanted to go back to her grandmother’s house, climb into her bed and stay there for the next few months.

When had she become such an introvert? She and Cullen had always loved to throw dinner parties for their friends. They would invite her coworkers at the middle school or other academics from the university where he was an assistant professor.

Ava loved to cook, something she had inherited from her mother and grandmother. She would spend hours coming up with menus and going to the market, then would spend the day prepping the meal and laying out the table, with Cullen popping in and out to help where he could.

Her heart ached as she remembered the long kisses they would always share whenever he came into the kitchen, until she would tell him he had to stop distracting her or nothing would be ready on time.

After the final guest would leave, Cullen always cleaned up. Ava would fall into an exhausted sleep waiting for him, only to awaken with him curled around her.

She fought down the raw yearning. Were those moments gone forever? The day before, Cullen had seemed like a distant, polite stranger instead of a man who had always told her how much he adored her.

She managed not to sob as Leona rang the doorbell. Ten seconds later, a small girl with dark hair and brown eyes answered the doorbell and beamed at them.

“Hi.”

“Hello there, Lottie. Remember me? I’m Leona. I’m friends with your grandmother. And this is my granddaughter, Ava.”

“Hi. I’m Lottie. I’m three years old.”

“Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“I like to slide.”

With that non sequitur, the girl turned around and raced back through the house, a blur of energy.

“Okay. Good to know,” Leona said with a smile as she led the way through the house toward the kitchen, clearly well acquainted with the layout.

Inside the huge bright kitchen with its high-end appliances and gleaming marble countertops, they found Tilly Gentry Walker in the middle of everything, directing an army of helpers as her guests chopped, diced, stirred.

Tilly herself worked at the huge kitchen island, with its contrasting wood to the cabinets, cutting watermelon into triangles while around her the kitchen bustled with activity.

Ava released a breath when she realized her sister, the one person she wanted most to avoid, wasn’t here.

Tilly looked up to smile at them, her pretty features lit by the afternoon sun coming in from a skylight in the room. “Ava, my dear. It’s been far too long.”

She rinsed her hands quickly in the sink, dried them on her pin-striped apron, then rushed toward them to throw her arms around Ava’s neck.

“Here’s our celebrity author.New York Timesbestseller, darling. Oh, your mother would have been so proud of you.”

Ava swallowed against that ache of emotion that seemed constantly in her throat these days.

Wouldher mother have been proud? It was a moot question. Circular reasoning. If her mother hadn’t died, her father would have stayed grounded in reality, none of the events she had written about would have happened and she wouldn’t have needed to write a memoir about any of it.

If said memoir had never been written, she wouldn’t have been able to hit any bestseller lists, right?

“Thank you, Tilly.” She quickly changed the subject. “I love your kitchen renovation. I especially love the contrasting wood on your island and the waterfall edge.”

“Thank you. That’s one of my favorite things as well.”

“I brought my frog-eye salad and brownies, as ordered,” Leona said, holding up her covered tray and gesturing to the salad Ava carried.

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