Page 26 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“I thought you were buying a townhouse once they’re finished.”

“Have you seen the plans? The decks are huge, and there’s a garden area out front. It’s big enough for me to play by having some pots for pops of color and texture on my deck, but not too much to take care of. I think my cousin’s put a down payment on one too.”

She made a little face. “It will be nice to get out of mama and papa’s house finally. They’ve been generous and giving me my space, but it’s still…” Elise shimmied a little as if shaking off water “You just feel like a kid living at home, and I was used to freedom in college and law school, but the school debt just made living at home for a few years financially smart.”

Meghan nodded sympathetically. She hadn’t had debt, but she’d known that if she’d moved back to Belmont, her parents would have wanted her to live at home—they were a little old-fashioned that way. To have her moving back into the farmhouse she and her sisters had inherited on the property her father had coveted for years was going to be another poke in her father’s eye. And then when she didn’t ask for a job at his company that would be another hit.

Meghan sighed. She loved her mom and dad, but they were a lot. Opinionated and vocal.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Elise asked.

“No, just thinking about a bit of family drama that I’ve been able to avoid by living and working in Charlotte. But this feels good. I ran the idea by Jessica, and she’s glad for the company, but I think my momma and daddy will…” She stopped. She’d known Elise for years. Trusted her. She knew her folks. Still, it felt like bad-mouthing.

Elise smiled. Nodded.

As they arranged the next steps, the fire alarm in the bakery shrieked and then the alarm to the business next door, too, began to blare. A computerized voice ordered them to evacuate. It added a dystopian vibe.

“That’s not creepy at all,” Meghan said, sniffing the air and smelling nothing but ground coffee beans and baked goods.

“Let me help you,” Elise said and stood, quickly slipping her laptop into its padded cover and then into her stylish leather tote.

“I can manage. It’s probably a computer glitch.” Meghan hauled herself to her feet, wincing as pain shot through her ribs, hip and knee.

Was this a preview of what it would feel like to get old?

Even though she hated it, she vowed to continue running each morning once she was healed up. Grandma Millie had been very active until a few weeks before she died.

“Meghan.” Elise winced in sympathy.

She handed Meghan her crutches, even as the fire truck pulled up outside.

She quickly packed up Meghan’s computer and tote. “I have your things,” Elise said. “Take my arm.”

“No, you go first. I’m still clumsy with the crutches and will likely trip you, and then myself, so we’ll be in a heap blocking the exit and be responsible for mass murder when the alarm’s not false.”

Elise didn’t laugh. She looked worried.

“JK.” Meghan skidded a little on water that someone had spilled in their haste to exit. The pain was shocking.

“Actually, maybe that would be good because a hunky firefighter could swoop in and carry you out in a sexy, action-oriented meet-cute rom-com.” Elise didn’t leave her, but she walked clear of crutch range.

A mom was struggling to get a terrified toddler, who squirmed like a caught carp, while her baby in a high chair cried at a piercing decibel Meghan had experienced close to the stage once at Bonnaroo. For some reason, the mom was trying to grab a huge diaper bag and sling it over her shoulder and one-arm the toddler who looked like he had monkey moves.

Meghan handed one crutch to Elise and detangled the baby from the straps and picked up the baby, smiling at the mom who looked on the verge of frustrated tears herself.

Meghan cooed at the baby, making funny faces and tucking the unicorn rattle or teething toy or whatever the damp scroungy thing was back in the baby’s plump paw. The toy was gross, but the one-toothed smile and wide blue eyes did something funny to her tummy.

Not now.

She’d spent years dodging the popping of her ovaries that too many of her girlfriends had succumbed to, derailing their careers and lives—not that they’d admit regretting it.

She hobbled to the door that felt like it had suddenly moved ten yards further away.

The door opened and two firemen entered. Of course one was Jackson. As their eyes met, her crutch hit the chair, and she stumbled, shooting pain up her right leg again. She dropped the crutch and hopped. More pain, but she stayed upright, baby tucked to her chest.

“Check the kitchen and bathrooms,” Jackson said to his partner and then without saying anything to her, swooped her up.

Meghan squawked, one hand gripped his yellow jacket, the other was still wrapped around the baby who grinned at Jackson, the little flirt.

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