Page 61 of A Whisper of Summer Magic

“That doesn’t…” Her brain felt scrambled even as the last of the rays angled through the dining nook and the stained glass Jessica had found at a barn sale and hung up with Storm yesterday. “That doesn’t mean anything. How can you measure hope?”

“Why do you need to? You can’t deny it exists?”

Meghan didn’t know what she would have said next, but just as Storm and Jessica appeared on the back porch, washing up at the outdoor sink and toeing off their gardening boots, Chloe burst through the front door with a bang and clatter.

“Hey, everyone. I know you’re here. I saw Sarah turning toward Cramer Mountain as I left choir rehearsal, and I know something’s up because I haven’t heard a peep from anyone harassing me about committing to a wedding date and venue this week.” Chloe ran into the kitchen, all tumbled curls, huge eyes, brightly embroidered leggings and a floral gauzy top that was too big and slipping off her tiny frame. “I want in.” She slammed her fists on her hips. “I’m not a kid. Out with it. What’s up?”

*

This should beeasy.

But it was awkward as… Meghan self-censored her usual potty-mouthed phrase. Jessica must be rubbing off on her.

They sat outside under the stars at the fire pit. Storm and Jackson had headed out in what had almost seemed a choreographed pivot and escaped to have dinner at the Wild Side, givingthe sisterstime to talk. The sisters. Though Meghan had always thought of them as sisters, even with the chasm her father and mother had carved between them and Chloe, she hadn’t really thought Chloe was a blood relation.

But they might be. And how was Chloe going to handle that?

Damn, how were their parents going to cope with secrets exposed and resentment out in the open? Her family had had very high, exacting standards, but they’d been close.

Or so I thought.

The fixings for s’mores were ready, and each of them held a stick, but no one except Chloe had made a move to skewer the marshmallow and start roasting. Storm had, without asking, made a pitcher of raspberry bellinis before leaving, and each sister had downed the first drink and were working their way through the second.

What was supposed to happen now? She kept waiting for Jessica—the bossiest—to take over. Or Sarah—the calmest and oldest—to lead them. Or should she because she had a legal mind?

“You guys are really freaking me out.” Chloe bounced in her chair and stuffed a golden marshmallow in her mouth. “I can’t even taste this gooey goodness because I’m so stressed about what’s up. Rustin’s so worried he offered to come up with me, but I thought maybe y’all were struggling with something personal and might not want an audience.”

Chloe’s voice squeaked a little and her gaze had bounced around on all of them but had stayed mostly on Jessica. Zin, a tuxedo cat, had been skulking around the fire pit and jumped on Chloe’s lap. She clung to him.

“Just Band-Aid it,” Chloe advised. “Fast is less cruel and painful. Do y’all think I shouldn’t marry Rustin? Not Grandma Millie’s wedding dress?”

Jessica and Sarah shifted, made some noises and shifted again. No one met Chloe’s beseeching gaze.

“Ugh.” Meghan stood up. “We are making it worse,” she told her sisters. “It’s good news.”

That’s a stretch. Sort of.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay.” She grabbed her glass to gulp, but it was empty. So too were her sisters, except Chloe’s, which was brimming. Meghan grabbed the champagne bottle, poured liberally for all of them and then topped off with more fresh raspberries and the bellini mixer.

“Are we toasting? Grieving? What?” Chloe’s eyes shimmered gorgeously in the firelight, looking achingly like the picture of the opera singer.

“Toasting,” Meghan said certainly, and then she pulled herself together. “Chloe.” Dang, this was way harder than it should be.

She stalked across the circle and crouched down in front of her. Jessica jumped up and sat on the arm of Chloe’s chair, her arm wrapped tightly around her—not subtle at all.

We look like we’re delivering death news.

“You’ve always been our little sister, and when Sarah was cleaning out Grandma Millie’s papers, she came across something that indicates you’re even more of our sister than we had imagined, which is awesome.”

And awkward.

“Huh?”

“Chloe, darling.” Sarah swiveled her chair toward her. “When I was organizing all of Grandma Millie’s papers—as one of the executers—I found a note.”

There was a beat of silence and then another.

“To me?” Chloe asked finally taking a gulp of her drink.

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