Page 55 of Wrapped with a Beau

Ves looks pained. “Do you think that’s possible? To wish for something different than what you have?”

“Why not? It’s your life. Who else will chart your future if not you?”

“You say it like it’s that easy.”

“Of course it’s not easy. But it’s still worth doing. All the best things are. And don’t forget, everything in life happens because someone first wished it so.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Elisha

Following their conversation about Maeve, Ves has withdrawn into himself. It’s clear that his great-aunt weighs heavy on his mind, and for a moment she feels horrible that she’s dumped the care of two energetic cats on him. But then she wonders if maybe that’s the best thing for him.

While the cats reinvestigate the house and Ves inventories all the papers lying around and ticks boxes off his to-do list, she continues sorting through Maeve’s old paperbacks.

If she closes her eyes and focuses hard enough, Elisha can just about hear Maeve fussing over her, smell her stovetop hot cocoa and popcorn. Before Grandma Lou passed, the two women and Elisha enjoyed weekly after-school Hallmark movie nights. Maeve would have the heavy-bottomed saucepan and a value bag of kernels waiting on the counter while Elisha and Lou clinked their way across the street. By the time the popcorn stopped exploding, Lou had the chocolate liqueur and vodka back in her handbag and two White Russians chilling in Doc Hollins’s old-fashioned glasses.

“You were right,” says Ves, breaking into her nostalgia.

“Huh?” Elisha blinks away the memory. She hastily sets aside the floppy, dog-eared romance novel she’s been holding for the last several minutes. “I mean, obviously. But you’ll have to be more clear regarding what I’m right about.”

“The important documents,” explains Ves. “Between what was lying around the house and the stuff the bank gave me, I have it all. Dad wasn’t sure, but I checked and found out that the house is paid off and Maeve’s covered all the utilities for the next few months. It’s perfect timing.”

She absently flips through a yellowing paperback. “For what?”

“To list the house in March as soon they’re done filming. Don’t worry, Solana told me all about the importance of when to sell in the Piney Peaks housing market.”

Her brow furrows. Probably boring real estate stuff. “Um, okay.”

It is a little weird to hear him so casually mention selling up and leaving town, but she always knew they wouldn’t last. It’s better this way, anyway. Unlike with Bentley, where the breakup stretched out like taffy, knowing their end date brings certainty. And with certainty comes less chance of getting hurt.

“Adding to the Elisha-is-always-right canon,” she says, smirking, “you’ll be happy to know I have found not one, not two, but three treasures that you, Mr. What Could I Possibly Have Missed?, absolutely, unquestionably missed. Eat crow, Ves Hollins. Wait, no.” She smiles evilly. “Eat fruitcake.”

He drops the manila accordion file that presumably holds all the paperwork she set him to find. “You’re kidding,” he says, joining her in her fortress of books on the living room floor.

To her surprise, he crosses his legs under him pretzel-style, his knobby knee bumping hers. He brings with him the scent of crisp, juicy green apples. She inhales greedily, trying not to imagine a hard green Jolly Rancher gliding across her tongue. “Here, look. Two out-of-print Nora Roberts and Madonna’s Sex. You know, I didn’t even know Maeve had these?”

“Between all the medical texts and fiction, I’m sure there’s a thousand books here. How would you?”

“Oh, this used to be like my own personal library growing up. Mom and Dad were busy working, and back then Grandpa Dave still had his wood workshop at the Chocolate Mouse. Grandma Lou had early-onset arthritis and couldn’t help with the baking anymore, so she took care of me after school. We spent a lot of time here.” Elisha’s grin is fond. “She could sure handle the cocktails, though.”

Ves looks startled before he catches himself. “I know Maeve was close friends with you and your grandma, but I didn’t realize that you practically grew up in this house. Do you think we ever met?”

“Ah, you mean were we ever childhood sweethearts?” Elisha gives him a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. His arm wraps around her waist, tucking her into his side.

She scoots closer. “You said you were seven last time you were here, right?” When his face falls, she realizes it was the only time. Quickly, she moves on. “I would have been four. Maybe we had a playdate or something? I’ll have to ask my gramps. Grandma Lou might have mentioned it.”

There’s something a little lost and wistful in Ves’s expression that suddenly makes her wish she hadn’t said anything. He’s studying the neat piles of books she’s meticulously arranged around them, absent-mindedly playing with the tortoiseshell button on his gray cardigan. She watches him nervously, afraid that he’s going to tear it off and it’ll fly somewhere into the mess, unable to be found, and even if they do find it, she has no idea how to sew a button back on. Would he? Yes, probably.

Probably he keeps all his spare buttons in the tiny plastic baggies exactly for this sort of occasion. She thinks about all the hotel bathroom sewing kits she’s saved up over the years that she hasn’t used once. She can thread a needle, but that’s about it. Probably he is a real adult who knows how to sew buttons and even iron shirts and read full-size newspapers instead of just Internet headlines.

“So you can sell these online if you want. They’re pretty rare and valuable,” says Elisha. Her voice comes out aggressively loud and she wishes she wasn’t vigorously brandishing said books under his nose. “Or I know a couple of used bookstores in town that pay good money for collectibles like these.”

“Maybe you should hold on to them. Maeve would probably approve.”

“No, I—” There’s a tight knot in her chest. “It’s yours. Your inheritance.”

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