Page 30 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“And that’s not spooky at all.” Jessica paled.

“No, it’s a lucky break. I want to look through it for inspiration. I think I could use it for branding for my jams.”

“Have you gone crazy?”

“Maybe. Dad will think so.” She made a face, but Jessica had survived their parents’ disappointment when she’d downsized her career ambitions by working to open a business instead of achieving a corner office.

Meghan’s downward move would be one more nail of parental disappointment in the proverbial coffin of parental bragging rights. They’d still have Sarah, the doctor.

“Besides,” she teased, “the book’s magic worked for you.”

“Storm said he was in love with me before the book,” Jessica said haughtily.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s you I’m worried about. Do you really want to cook up something for Jackson Roberts?”

Meghan felt herself flush hot. “Who said anything about Jackson? I’m thinking about Sarah.”

“Sarah?”

“She’s held the lit torch for her widowhood long enough. She deserves another H-E-A.”

“Have you been reading my stash of romances?”

“Guilty.” Meghan laughed. “And I even watched a rom-com with Jackson after we devoured a couple hours of mysteries one night. He actually watched, and we provided inner dialogue for the actors. It was fun.”

“Jackson, huh?” Jessica’s look turned sly. “I’ll get the book.”

She disappeared into the room where Meghan had been staying since injuring her ankle and returned holding the book in one of Meghan’s T-shirts.

Even though her eyes held a glittering challenge, she held the book away from her body as if she was still a little spooked by it.

“Have at it,” she said, urging the book on Meghan, T-shirt and all. “It’s your heart on the line.”

*

She told herselfJackson wouldn’t stop by tonight to check on her. He worked rotating twenty-four-hour shifts. She’d told herself not to expect him, tried to ignore each subtle ding of the wind chimes or whisper of a breeze through the open farmhouse windows.

She and Jessica had spent the afternoon reviewing different jam and sauce recipes for ideas and also ordering adorable vintage-looking glass jars with the right type of lids that Meghan thought would be so perfect to use as small giveaways for Jessica’s open house, but also as a way to soft-launch her own budding business idea.

Jessica had balked at the price—they should be cautious, share the cost.

“It’s marketing for both of us,” Meghan had argued, sure of herself. “And brand building. Some things you can’t skimp on.”

“You don’t even have a name for your business yet,” Jessica had countered.

Meghan had laughed because Jessica had mulled over the name for her nursery for weeks, even while she and Storm had pulled long hours getting the garden areas closest to the house beautified for Chloe’s party and perhaps eventually other events.

Then they had tackled the area where the nursery shop would be—cleaning and organizing and creating one of Jessica’s famous vision boards. Every muscle ached, but it was worth it, Meghan thought as she limped back to the house close to evening.

Before dinner, Jessica and Storm had headed over to a potential client’s house in the historic downtown cul-de-sac in Belmont that locals referred to as the Belmont Crown. The house was two down from Grandma Millie’s and the family was, in their own words, refugees, from the Bay Area in California. The wife had sold her tech start-up and wanted a slower pace of life with her young family. Meghan was curious how the family would adjust to small-town southern life and what expectations they would bring—and have dashed by reality—with their landscaping and home renovations. The homes in the cul-de-sac were designated historical, and trying to make changes, especially to the exterior, was like trying to thread a needle blindfolded in a hurricane.

Good thing Jessica had a lot of charm and diplomacy, Meghan thought as she filled a pot to sterilize the first set of jam jars and lids.

“Hey, how’s my baby mama?”

Meghan nearly dropped the lid of the huge pot she intended to make her first batch of strawberry jam in. By the way her heart happy-hopped and her throat dried, she finally admitted she’d wanted him to come by.

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