Page 30 of One Chance

Beckett scoffed. “Yeah, he’s a real di—”

Wyatt cleared his throat and pinned Beckett with a harshDadlook.

“Mean guy,” Beckett corrected. Kate laughed beside him. It was common knowledge that Tootie’s Old English Game rooster had an ax to grind with Beckett. Despite the fact he was huge, with a pale-blond head, rust-colored wings, a black body, and gorgeous tail feathers that shone hunter green in the sun, he was known to be prickly. While renovating the farmhouse, he’d taken a particular dislike for Beckett Miller, though I saw Beckett sneak Bartleby little treats from his pocket a time or two.

Pickle grabbed my hand and led me toward the coop. Enclosed in a small area inside were baby chicks that appeared to be only a few weeks old. Their soft, downy feathers and tiny wings were precious, and little cheep-cheep noises carried on the breeze.

Penny pointed each of them out in the box. “That’s Phyllis, Molly, and Benita. This brown one is Eggburt 2.0. But we won’t eat this one.” She shrugged. “Probably.”

A laugh burst from me.

“There will be no eating Eggburt.” Tootie’s voice came from behind us, and she smiled at her great-niece.

I stretched my legs and moved toward Tootie, wrapping her in a hug. “Thank you for today.”

Her strong hugs were an anchor in a swirling storm of emotion.

“Hey, you little rat,” Lee called to his niece. “Let’s see if we can’t find some wildflowers with your grandpa.”

Pickle zipped past us and joined her uncle and grandfather as they walked toward the row of wildflowers that separated the yard from the blueberry fields beyond.

I rested my arm around Tootie’s middle and sighed. “Red seems so ... good today.”

She patted my hand. “He was approved for a national clinical trial, which means an intravenous infusion every two weeks. We’re cautiously hopeful.” Emotion was evident in her voice. She’d cared for her brother and his children when he became a widower, and more so since his diagnosis. It was a weight she seemed unburdened to carry, but I knew it was still heavy.

“I’ll send all my prayers up.” I squeezed her again.

We made a lap through the yard and circled back to where the rest of the Sullivan family was gathered.

“You’re going?” Kate asked Wyatt.

“Of course I’m going. It’s for charity.” Wyatt planted his hands on his hips as Lark laughed.

“You’re only going because you have me and won’t be up for auction. Besides, if Iwereon the auction block, you wouldn’t let anyone else bid on me.” Lark wound her arms around Wyatt’s waist and squeezed.

“Damn right. I dare anyone to try to outbid me.”

Lark preened at him. “I would let the bids on you rack up and then swoop in at the last minute to disappoint them all.”

“Better be careful,” Duke added. “Ms. Tiny can be ruthless.”

“What about you, Katie?” Lark asked.

Kate smiled. “Beckett and I will be busy next weekend. We’ve got a lead on a new house and want to be sure everything is ready if we land it.”

“Duke ... ?” Kate prodded her oldest brother.

Duke’s face twisted. “Fuck no. The gala is a meat market disguised as charity.”

“Aww c’mon,” Lark teased.

“Always so serious,” Kate teased Duke with a mock frown and a laugh.

“Well, Annie is going, so we’ll be there to support her.” Their eyes shifted to me in unison. I scrunched up my nose, trying to think ofanyexcuse to get out of that ridiculous gala.

Maybe Emma was right—that I was looking at this all wrong. Instead of dreading the auction, I should have shifted my attitude. In high school, boys like Lee dated girls like Margo. Popular girls with perfect teeth, shiny blonde hair, and no freckles. They didn’t date the weird, quirky artist friend who burned in the sun and whose hair could alternate between smooth ringlets and Krusty the Clown.

There was a time I thought maybe I could be someone else. But I wasn’t that girl anymore, and the Sullivans had played a huge hand in helping me value myself, just as I am.

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