Page 63 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“She will. She invited me to an opera workshop in Berlin one summer when I was in high school and another in Rome for a summer after my sophomore year in college, and then when I graduated Grandma Millie took me on a European trip, and I participated in an opera intensive workshop and performances that summer at her summer castle in Scotland.”

Her light dimmed a little. “That must have been why she invited me. She wanted to see how I turned out—not because I earned the spot through talent and hard work.”

Double damn.

Meghan gave up on her intention to not even inwardly swear—at least for tonight. “Chloe.” She held her sister’s shoulders. “You are also crazy talented. She wanted to see you, but she also wanted to nurture your gift.”

“Maybe it’s genetic, a gift she gave to me,” Chloe whispered rubbing her throat. “I used to sing in my cradle—Grandma Millie always said that.”

“You did.” Meghan nodded, feeling on safer emotional ground.

“I’m happy. Scared and happy and sad and happy and I want Rustin.”

“Okay.” Jessica stood up. “I’ll drive you.”

“We’ll all go,” Sarah said. “We’ll have dinner and toast the news and plan a wedding. But I’ll drive as I haven’t touched my drink.”

“You drank one cocktail,” Jessica said, looking guiltily at her second empty glass.

“I didn’t have a chance.” Sarah wiggled her fingers indicating that she wanted the keys. “You drank mine,” she said to Jessica.

“Switching to sparkling water,” Jessica promised. “But we have a lot to celebrate and a wedding to plan.”

Meghan followed, hoping the words were true but doubted it would be that easy. Their parents had ignored Chloe growing up, but if a famous opera star rolled into town for a wedding on a premier Maye property, people were going to notice. And ask questions. And Chloe hadn’t yet explored the true reason why Athena Zoe had left her child on the doorstep of a historic home where a large happy family lived. They’d focused on Chloe’s bio mom. When the question of the bio dad came up, that was definitely not going to cause the same level of giddy excitement. And she and all three of her sisters and their mom were going to be caught up in that thunder boomer storm of gossip.

Chapter Twelve

“Mmmmmm, this isnice,” Meghan mused looking up at the stars twinkling between the boughs of the fragrant mature jacaranda, dogwood, and magnolia trees that guarded the wide expanse of lawn of Grandma Millie’s two-acre downtown lot. Her home had once been one of the biggest, and it was the oldest, but when younger people with money moved in or the houses changed hands out of the family, there had been renovations or add-ons to other homes in the area, but the historic circle of homes, often called the Belmont Crown, was strictly guided by the city’s historic society and state historical society as well.

“Nice is a terrible word, unworthy of you and this moment.” Jackson’s hand covered hers, though his head too was dropped back on the swing he and Storm had refurbished over the past week.

She smiled. Another word game with adjectives, though Jackson enjoyed synonyming verbs as well.

“Pleasant, enjoyable?”

“Please, stratospherically beyond those.”

She had to stifle a giggle. Really. Her. Giggling. But she was always up for word games. “Incredible, fantastic. Striking. Extraordinary. Strikingly extravagant.”

“I like that. Strikingly extravagant.”

She rolled her head a little so that it was tucked near his shoulder. The past month had been a blur of activity—building up her local clientele, finally closing a case at her previous office that had required one four-day business trip, making her realize that no, she did not miss the travel. She’d also been busy with the legalities of starting her small business and rolling it into the nursery but branding it Cramer-Maye Farms while adding her own home page to the nursery website advertising the jams, sauces, and pickled vegetables.

“I’ve never been here before,” Jackson said idly. “I thought of this house as a palace.”

“A palace?” Meghan didn’t like that word. “I was never the princess.”

“You all were the princesses, and I was not alone in that assessment, although Chloe was sort of the court jester in a hilarious way that had me threatening more than a few idiots in our class to keep their opinions to themselves.”

Meghan frowned. She knew Chloe had had it tough in some ways as a kid. She’d been a bit odd—dreamy. Her mind and conversation had been interesting, engaging but totally tangential, but she’d been off at college when Chloe had been in middle school.

“So, you played knight to Chloe’s damsel in distress.”

“Hardly. I just don’t humor bullies. I had size and athletics, some popularity, so when I spoke up, most kids listened. It wasn’t like I was jousting after school.”

“There’s a picture.” She laughed a little, more than a little aroused by the image.

They’d been taking it slow—both of them busy—her building her clientele, business, and helping sort through all the legalities of death and Jackson studying for an exam for a promotion, but they made time for each other—like tonight.

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