Page 39 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

Jessica laughed. “Why him?”

“He’s Sarah’s secret crush. She saw the firstThorwith Natalie Portman like three times at the theater, and now she probably still streams it.”

“She does?” Jessica’s brows rose comically. “But why Sarah?” Jessica’s eyes lit with interest. “Do you think she’s ready for a little matchmaking?”

“Maybe it’s time,” Meghan said, feeling a little belligerent. “She was in her mid-twenties when she was widowed. Everyone’s put her in this widow time capsule, forever grieving.”

“I remember Mama and Daddy had to talk to Sarah’s in-laws to help her move out. They were so upset, like they were losing their son all over again.”

“She moved home last year to try to—in my opinion,” Meghan admitted, “reclaim her life. It’s past time.”

“But dating?” Jessica asked. “Who? She just started doing something for herself—Pilates. That’s a big jump from stretching out on a reformer like medieval torture to dating.”

“She’s got to start somewhere,” Meghan said, hoping Jessica wouldn’t ask when Meghan had last dated.

“She’s also signed up for an evening pottery class at the arts center.” Jessica snapped her fingers. “So maybe she is a bit more open for… more,” Jessica slotted in. “How does it work? Does Sarah have to give the man the jam or make it?”

“No idea.” Meghan hadn’t really thought the plan out—just more an inkling to find her sister a second chance at love. Sarah had married her college sweetheart and become a pediatrician because she’d loved and wanted kids.

Jessica palmed a jar and looked at it. “Good thing you made a lot. You can experiment on Jackson. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the next sister asking me to host an engagement party for you at the farm.”

*

Saturday was awhirl of activity. Meghan stepped outside the barn where she’d been for the past couple of hours handing out the small jars of jam to guests and ringing up customers who been purchasing the air plants dangling in their small glass balls from customized macramé holders Chloe had been whipping up for the past couple of months.

Meghan had trusted Jessica’s vision, but she’d not anticipated quite this big of a turnout. Or to be honest—the interest. The little succulents and mini succulent gardens had been surprisingly popular, and even Meghan had started enjoying putting them together in the evenings over a glass of wine or sweet tea with her sisters.

Pictures.

She’d promised to take pictures for the social media sites. Chloe was better with social media, but she had several groupings of her high school and college choir students performing in the garden throughout the day.

Rustin’s brother Lucas and sous chef Hannah and bartender Clara were running the More Wild food truck that had crafted mocktails and two signature nibbles for the open house.

Maybe they should have drafted a marketing intern from the college to help today, but no, Meghan I-can-do-anything had raised her hand saying she’d handle the SM posts. She just hadn’t anticipated that there would be so many customers buying potted tea plants, mini kitchen herb gardens, succulents and hanging floral pots.

“Like sales are something I should complain about.” She mocked herself, walking quickly outside the shop to take advantage of a lull.

She took pictures of visitors, plants, focusing on finding an image that told a story, or an unexpected angle or interesting lighting. And that was when she saw him—a tall, slim, handsome in a nerdy-professor way—man. He had thick dark wavy hair that looked like it needed a trim as it tumbled around his face. He wore—no joke—tortoiseshell glasses in a Wayfarer design that looked straight out of the fifties or sixties maybe.

He was with a little girl who had a longer version of his hair. She wore a pink dress that already showed grass stains along with red—strawberry jam probably. Oops. She was at the kids’ craft table where Jessica had garden-themed activities—flower pressing, drawing, making a flower with colored tissue paper and pipe cleaners. Four college students from one of the sororities supervised the crafts.

“Perfect.” Meghan ducked back into the barn and grabbed a jam jar from her special stash and descended. And it was only after she came up to him, introduced herself, smiling brightly, that she wondered perhaps that he might be married and just taking his adorable little girl on an outing because his wife was busy.

“I’m Meghan Maye,” she announced, stuck now, and despite his jolt of surprise, she barreled on. “This is my sister Jessica’s nursery and garden. I hope you’re having a good time.”

“Ahhhh, yes. It’s beautiful here,” he said, his eyes a piercing blue. “My daughter enjoys gardens.”

“Are you local? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around town.”

Dear Lord. Meghan winced. She sounded like she was hitting on him. Not her intention at all. She was fishing for Sarah. Handsome man complete with a kid, and she didn’t spot a ring.

“I’m new. Well, we are.” He looked at his dark-headed, sweet daughter carefully arranging the flower between two pieces of parchment paper. Her tongue stuck out in the way that kids’ tongues did when they were concentrating.

“I’m Forster Luke Raimy. Well, Luke Forster always sounded a little too… green.”

“Hippy,” she blurted at the same time, nearly stumbling over her left two feet as she mentally kicked herself.

“Something like that.” He smiled for the first time, but it wasn’t half as dynamic as Jackson’s. “We’re renting a house in Belmont. I’m a history professor at South Point Abbey,” he said. “I’ve a one-year contract”—his gaze slid to his child and then back to hers, and there was something exhausted and worried in his eyes for a moment—“covering for a professor on a sabbatical. At the last moment the department queried if I wanted to teach two courses over the summer term, so Sage and I arrived early.”

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