Page 2 of Harvest Moon (Riverbend 3)

“Mallory shouldn’t be alone at the hospital. Mike wouldn’t want that.”

“She’d want Laurel with her, wouldn’t she?”

Laurel. Of course. And his ex-wife would want to be with her best friend. “Not thinking straight. I’ll call her. I still have her number—unless she’s changed it.” Or blocked him. He hadn’t talked to her since their divorce finalized three years ago.

“Sure, but maybe it would be better if I called her.”

“Right. Yeah.” They hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms. Regret and despair over the last year of their marriage threatened to swamp him. But he resolutely shoved it down. “Just a second and I’ll get you the number.”

He put the call on Speaker, found Laurel’s number, and relayed it to Cooper. Somehow he’d never been able to bring himself to delete it.

“I’ll call her right now,” Coop said.

“Thanks, Brother. Will you let me know you got hold of her?”

“Sure thing.”

Gavin disconnected and thought of Laurel, soon to be receiving this horrific news. His high school sweetheart had been friends with Mallory since elementary school. When Mallory had started dating Mike in their early twenties, he and Gavin hit it off. They became couple-friends. Even after Laurel and Gavin had moved to Asheville, they remained close, meeting up for supper and taking weekend hiking trips together.

The divorce had put a stop to all that, of course. But somehow,against all odds, Mike and Mallory maintained their friendships with each of them. And if the weight of it strained their own relationship, Gavin had never noticed.They are special people.

He broke through the woods and came out at the gravel parking lot where he’d left his Denali. He retrieved his keys from his pocket and made a beeline toward it.

He’d just thought of his friends in present tense—but Mike was gone.

Gone.

It didn’t feel real. And yet, right this minute Gavin was heading to their house to stay with a little girl who’d just lost her father.

***

Laurel Robinson was this close to having the position of her dreams—and the best thing about it? Her friends and coworkers were rooting for her.

Ruby, the fiftysomething supervisor of The Dining Room, raised her glass. “To the next Walled Garden Manager.”

“And let’s not forget, the youngest one in the history of the Biltmore Estate,” Kayla said.

Ruby winked at Laurel, her blue eyeshadow shimmering under the pendant light. “Also the first woman.”

“Hear, hear.”

Unable to suppress a modest smile, Laurel clinked her glass with theirs, the sounds fading into the cacophony at the Charlotte Street Grill & Pub. “Lovely toast, ladies, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Ruby waved away her caution. “Please. Eddington’s retiring the first of the year. Who else would they choose but his assistant?”

“They could always bring someone else in.”

Kayla tucked her short brown hair behind her ear. “Why would they do that when they have the best horticulturist in North Carolina right on the grounds?”

“Someone who’s spent her entire career busting her butt there.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. I do. But I’m trying to manage my expectations.” She glanced at Kayla. “You remember what happened at the stables.”

“They only went outside because Ludwig didn’t recommend Russo,” Kayla said. “Of course they hired from the outside. But Eddington loves you. He’s groomed you for the position and recommended you for it.”

Laurel hoped and prayed they were right. Manager of the Walled Garden tended to be a long-term position—Richard Eddington had held it for more than twenty years. This might be her only chance. And where else would she go? The Biltmore Garden was a horticulturist’s dream. She’d been enamored with the gorgeous estate since she first toured it in seventh grade. Scoring a job here shortly after she’d graduated with her master’s had been a huge win. She’d slowly moved up the ranks, and now another dream was about to come true—and with it, the kind of pay that would buy her the security she craved.

The server came and took their orders, and as she scurried away, Laurel’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Probably her mom. She tended to call on Saturday evenings to make sure Laurel wasn’t working.

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