“Hey, squirt,” T said to Ainsley with a genuine grin.
Lacey reached out to ruffle Ainsley’s hair—with Ainsley actually letting her—then caught sight of the tartan wrapped around it. “Nice, kiddo.” Lacey flashed a shiny set of braces, then wrapped her lips around them again.
Both girls were tall, taking after their dad, and Jen wanted to knuckle their backs to get them to stand up straighter. With a secret smile, she remembered that at one point, when she and Leith had been eleven, she’d been an inch taller than him.
“How’s it going?” T said to Jen, knocking her out of her memories. “I mean, I can tell this was a lot of work. Seems like a pretty cool party so far.”
Jen blinked at her. “Thanks.”
Ainsley’s big eyes danced between the two older girls like they wore halos. “Are we still going to watch the tug-of-war?”
“Absolutely, squirt.” T patted the backpack dangling over one shoulder. “Got the blanket and everything.”
Ainsley peered around Jen and called, “Hey, Mom, can I have some money?”
The piper chose that moment to start his set, marching around the grounds to heighten the atmosphere, as she’d hired him to do, so when Jen turned around to find Aimee, the piper blocked the person walking with her sister. A moment of panic set Jen’s heart pounding. Yeah, the girls were being cool to Ainsley, but what if Aimee was walking arm in arm with Owen out where everyone could see? Right in front of their children? She’d witnessed enough sidelong looks and heard enough whispers to know it wasn’t something the town wanted to see. What if this was the start to the scene Jen feared from her own childhood? On tonight of all nights?
Jen glanced fearfully at T and Lacey, imprinting her and Aimee’s faces onto theirs, remembering the day they’d had to intercept their mom in the grocery store when she’d clawed after some woman she’d caught sleeping with Frank.
The girls wore no similar look of disgust.
Even odder, when the piper moved on, his absence revealed that Aimee wasn’t actually walking with Owen, but Melissa. They walked close enough to touch, their heads bent together, Melissa saying something with very fervent hand gestures. And they were smiling.
Aimee saw Jen and steered Melissa over to make introductions. Melissa had a strong, confident handshake and a raspy voice. “Great to finally meet you, Jen.”
And it was Jen, for once, who had to struggle to find equilibrium in this strangest of strange situations, when usually she could fake it pretty well.
Then Melissa did the most surprising thing. She reached for Ainsley, giving her arm a quick, affectionate squeeze paired with a brilliant smile. It couldn’t possibly mean anything other than I like you, kid.
“Mom,” Ainsley said, eyes bright, “T just told me there’s a whole ’nother town under the lake. That when they made the dam, they covered the first Gleann with water. Is that true?”
T and Lacey were giggling as Melissa rolled her eyes. “Stop telling people that, Tamara Jean. Especially the younger kids. You’ll get one of them drowned when they go to swim for it. Your dad made that story up ages ago to get you to go to sleep.”
“I’m not a kid. Lacey’s only three years older than me,” Ainsley protested to deaf ears.
“Oh, look, there’s George,” Melissa said, “getting ready for the tug-of-war. Team Highway Repair and Roadkill Pickup. Wouldn’t want to miss them pulling against those massive rugby guys you had bussed in, Jen.” With a wink, she turned back to Aimee. “So, we’re meeting with Sue on Monday at ten? At the Kafe?”
“Yep.” Aimee smiled. “Have you seen Owen?”
Melissa squinted at the whiskey tent. “In there. Trying to relive his youth. Don’t let him drive home if that’s the case. Girls, Ainsley is yours for the night. You understand?”
Solemn nods all around.
Jen watched Melissa approach a telephone pole of a man dressed in jeans and a plaid T-shirt—no discerning tartan—with New Hampshire Department of Transportation stamped on the back. Melissa melted into his arms, having to stand on her tippiest of toes as he gave her a deep, closed-mouth kiss.
T and Lacey made faces appropriate to seeing their mom kissing, and then turned away, but otherwise showed no disapproval. A small group of men and women nudged each other in speculation, but Melissa and George didn’t care.
“Here’s a twenty.” Aimee passed the wrinkled bill to T. “Keep any change.”
“The sign-up for tomorrow morning’s foot races is over at the heritage tent,” Jen said to Ainsley. “Didn’t you say you wanted to do the Kid Sprint around the grounds?”
Lacey slapped her sister’s arm. “Oh, let’s do that. First prize is fifty bucks.”
The girls wandered off, and Jen resisted jumping up and down over their enthusiasm and participation.
She and Aimee looked at each other, the pall of their tense, honest conversation back in the Thistle still hanging over them.
“Melissa and I are opening a B&B,” Aimee said abruptly. “Together.”
Jen boggled, her mouth hanging open.
“That’s what the Monday meeting is about, because I know you’re wondering. We’ve already approached one of the old Hemmertex families with a huge empty house up for sale about going in with us, joining as a part owner, letting us run it from here. Melissa’s got the start-up money—her family is the oldest in the valley—and I’ve got the skills in running an inn. It’s going to be the first of many, Jen. I thought you should be one of the first to know.”
“Wow, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
The piper had trailed back by the beer tent, bleating out an up-tempo song.
Aimee stepped closer. “Say you’re proud of me.”
“God, Aim. I am. I really am.”
There was no I told you so. No I don’t need you. Just absolute proof, exactly as Aimee said she’d give. The world suddenly felt a little bit lighter.
Aimee’s gaze flicked over Jen’s shoulder. She said, all casual, “Oh, I see Owen. Better go tend to the whiskey consumption. It’s already a great night, Jen. Tomorrow’s going to be even better. I know it will.” She started to walk off, then stopped. “I also thought you’d like to know that Owen filed for divorce this morning. Melissa says the papers will be signed in record time.”
Aimee had put a good twenty feet between them before Jen finally processed it all, gathered herself, and called after her sister, “You know what would be good?”
Aimee turned around. “What?”
“Starting an association of inn owners in the valley. There are some in Westbury, you know. Maybe you could band together, use each other to help market the area. Just a thought.”
Aimee beamed. “And it’s a great one. Thank you.” She took a long, happy look around the grounds and came back to meet Jen’s eyes. “For everything.”
At last the sun dipped behind the hills in a perfect New Hampshire sunset, the kind she remembered, the kind she occasionally, futilely wished for while in the city. The fairy lights kicked on, and all the tents became outlined in strings of white. The murmurs of approval made her glow.
Big pockets of people milled around the beer tent, and the whiskey tent was so full Shea had tied back the flaps to accommodate everyone. Drinkers spilled out onto the grass slope leading down to the parking lot. Chris’s band was finally ready to go on, and it seemed like the tension that had cut through their earlier sound check had been smoothed over. Or at least shoved onto the back burner, which was all that Jen cared about at this point. In the meantime, the Scottish Highland dance exhibition was concluding, the last notes of the sole accompanying piper floating across the grounds.