Page 10 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“You don’t reframe whatever crisis has befallen your clients with them?” he asked, looking like a hunting dog waiting for the command.

She thought about that. “I guess I do along the way—multiple times.”

“That’s the spirit.” His watch beeped. “If you down the cookie, I can give you another couple of ibuprofen.”

She polished the cookie off and then with her new WTF attitude she ate another, daring some fat to stick.

Jackson smiled like she’d done something right and sauntered into the kitchen to grab her bag of meds.

“Can I get an ice pack for my crybaby face while you’re up?”

She must look a mess, and here Jackson was stuck with her on a Friday night when he had the weekend off. “What’s the opposite of rom-com?”

“Disconnection-tragedy?”

“Good one,” she murmured as he returned with a wet tea towel that she laid over her face. “I’m not coming up for air until you leave,” she announced.

“You still need to reframe three positives before I hand over the ibuprofen.”

She yanked off the towel. He handed her two pills and a glass of water with orange slices on the rim.

“I’m sorry to be such a grump. I’m just so mad at myself. This was a weekend I’ve been looking forward to for a long time and now I’ve screwed it up by being stupid and clumsy.”

“Why were you in the tree?” he asked again, and this time, she figured she might as well tell him. It wasn’t as if she could look any more idiotic.

“Everyone is gone. I was going to have the farmhouse to myself when I could just…” She blew out a breath. “I wanted to… grieve Grandma Millie. I’ve been”—she shrugged and instantly regretted the pain that shot from her ribcage through her shoulders—“busy at work. And the strong one for my dad and Jessica and Chloe while Sarah’s been dealing with G. Millie’s house and the paperwork.”

He listened, and it was seductive.

“Sarah and I are coexecutors, and I thought I’d handle the paperwork, not the emotions, but I’m better with my dad. He feels betrayed that his mother left the farmhouse and acreage in trust to her granddaughters not him.”

She should stem the flow of words. She really should. Mayeses didn’t air dirty laundry, and lawyers didn’t discuss clients.

“Sorry. Sorry,” she muttered. “Family dirt and drama no one wants. I should be mad,” she continued. “Leaving the property in trust traps us all.”

“Do you feel trapped?”

She looked at him closely, but he seemed curious, not sarcastic, which he had a right to be. Who bitched about a shared legacy worth a few million?

“I always wanted to go far from here, see the world,” she said. “But now that I have, I’m wondering if I need some roots.”

She waited for him to interrupt. Waited some more.

Being with Jackson was not only stimulating, fun even—or it would be if she weren’t in pain—but it was also peaceful.

“With Jessica opening up her nursery and creating a botanical garden, I just…” She closed her eyes. She hadn’t even said this aloud to herself. “I wanted something… I wanted to see… I thought maybe there would be… something… for me. Something for us to do together.”

“That’s why you were in the orchard and climbing up to see the berry fields.”

She braced herself for his mocking reality check, his question about why a corporate attorney who worked internationally would be interested in fruit and berries, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked thoughtful.

Meghan plucked at the hummingbird pattern upholstery on the couch. Jessica kept threatening to have the chaise reupholstered, but now that Grandma Millie had passed, Meghan doubted any of them would change anything in the farmhouse or the historic home in downtown Belmont due to all the memories steeped into every piece of furniture and artwork.

“I can’t walk around the fields or orchards and see what’s alive or not or producing, and I really wanted to get a feel for the possibilities before any of my sisters knew I was… thought I might be…” Sheesh, she could barely think the words much less utter them aloud.

“Reframing.”

“Right.” At least she didn’t roll her eyes.

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