IT’S CRAZY ALL the things a new crush can do to you, like make you:
Smile incessantly. Half the people at this happy hour I’m hosting have asked me what I’m so happy about.
Forget things. I completely spaced on grabbing art supplies when I was in town and will have to go back tomorrow.
Gush about everything. While chatting to the guests about the cheeses, the wine, the town, and the inn, I sound almost as passionate about Vermont as Jesse did this morning.
Not notice things you normally would. Like someone calling your name.
“Harper?” Jesse tries again. I only know it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention because he laughs when I finally spin around and spot him sitting by the fire outside the inn. “What kind of daze were you just in? A good one, I hope.”
I grin and nod but don’t elaborate. As if I want to tell Jesse all about my crush.
“How did happy hour go?” he asks. It’s pitch-black out, but Jesse’s face is well lit from the outdoor fire and the string lights hanging high above that run from the porch pillars to two evergreen trees in the distance and back.
“Better than yesterday,” I reply. “But I suppose that’s not saying much.”
“You’re being modest. Sounds like you’re becoming quite the spokeswoman for Vermont. I heard you talking to some guests when I popped in there to make this.” He holds up his drink.
“What do you have there?”
“A hot toddy,” he says, taking another sip from his mug. “Want one?”
I was just making conversation. But I don’t say so aloud. “That’s okay,” I say. “I don’t want to bother you to make another.”
“It’s no problem at all. Wait here.” He’s on his feet before I can protest and throws me his blanket.
Oh. Okay. I guess we’re having cocktails.
I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and take a seat in an Adirondack chair on the opposite side of the fire. Because Jesse and I work together, a little physical distance seems the most appropriate right now. Although there’s also a chance I just made things weird. If Jesse thinks it’s weird, he doesn’t let on when he rejoins me. He simply hands me my drink, then fetches another blanket out of a basket near his chair and sits down where he was before.
“Good?” he asks as I take my first sip.
“Delicious.” It is.
My answer makes him smile. “How was town today?”
How does he know I went to town? Before I can ask, he explains. “I saw you heading that way when I was chopping wood.”
Didn’t he just chop wood yesterday? I guess there is a fireplace in every room. Wood chopping must be part of his daily routine. Noted.
“Town was really nice,” I respond. “That bakery you mentioned is quite charming.”
“Everything in town is quite charming,” he says.
I grin because he’s right and because he’s doing it again: selling me on this place and making me fall for it a little more.
“Do you miss living off of Main Street?” I remember him telling me he lived near there last night.
“A little,” he says. “But this place is pretty hard to beat. I’m not complaining.”
“Me either,” I say, shooting a glance up at the stars that are out in full force again.
“What was Atlanta like?” he asks.
“You’ve never been?”
“In the South, I’ve only been to South Carolina.”
I take another sip of my drink. Between the fire, my blanket, and the alcohol, I’m feeling much toastier than I thought was possible to feel out here. It can’t be more than forty-five degrees tonight. “Atlanta is a thriving city with great food and lots of young professionals. I like it. But I don’t love it the way you seem to love Vermont . . . and the way I’m starting to.”
“I’m glad it’s making such an impression on you,” he responds.
I shift my focus from him to the stars, circling my thumb around the top of my mug and thinking again how beautiful it is here. I eventually break the silence. Not because it’s uncomfortable, but because a question pops into my head.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, of course.”
He angles himself toward me a little more. I like the way Jesse gives his full attention to whomever he’s talking to. He’s been this way with me since I arrived, and I noticed this morning that he does the same with the guests. I’m not sure if he’s always been this intentional of a guy or if he’s this intentional because he doesn’t have a cell phone to check. Either way, it’s nice.
“Last night you asked me what I think happens after we die. And yesterday afternoon you mentioned that the inn has been missing some life for a while. It made me wonder if you’ve lost somebody.”
When Jesse doesn’t respond, I backtrack. “You don’t have to tell me or talk about it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.”
When he still doesn’t speak up, I wonder if I should apologize again and leave. Clearly, I’ve made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention. I am only curious and trying to get to know him better because he seems to have an interest in getting to know me.
“I’m sorry,” I reiterate. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I start to get to my feet, but his voice stops me.
“I’m surprised you put that together, that’s all.” He’s looking directly at me, and the way he’s looking at me makes me think he does want to talk about it. I settle back down and watch as he shifts his gaze to the fire like he’s searching for the words or trying to muster up the strength to say them.
Watching this makes me think the loss must have been recent. Or else it was someone he was really close with.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “My brother.”
So it was someone who was close. A heaviness fills my chest.
“And his wife,” he adds a beat later.
Two people who were close. Oh, Jesse.
I’m on my feet the next second, moving to sit in the chair right beside him. When he bows his head, I rest my hand on his back. I haven’t lost anyone that close to me. I imagine there aren’t words that make it any less painful. So I don’t try to find any. I just stay beside him so he knows I’m here—whether he wants to share more with me or sit in silence.
His voice cracks when he finally finds it. “It happened eleven months ago,” he shares. “A car accident as they were driving here. There was a bad rainstorm. They hydroplaned and hit a tree. Both of them died on impact.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. So it was semi-recent too.
I honestly wasn’t expecting such a sad story. My guess had been that a grandparent might have passed, or a distant friend—because Jesse doesn’t seem altogether unhappy, and after losing a sibling and a sister-in-law in the same instant, some people might struggle to even get out of bed eleven months later. Then again, people deal with grief in different ways. Maybe staying busy has helped him. Or maybe he’s good at putting on a brave face. Or perhaps he’s processing his grief in pieces.
When Jesse speaks again, I open my eyes and remove my hand from his back, resting it in my lap. “This was their dream,” he says, motioning to the property. “To take this place over once my parents stepped down. If you think I love Vermont . . .” He stops to whistle. “Brendan loved it ten times more. And so did his wife, Molly.”
“How long were they married?” I reach up to wipe away a tear that’s made its way down my cheek. I’m not sure when I started crying.
“Only a year,” he says. “But they’d been together since high school. They’d driven the road from town to this property a million times. They knew it so well. Sometimes I still can’t believe it happened.”
I blow out a breath and shake my head, continuing to listen as Jesse goes on. “As hard as it’s been for me, my parents have taken it even harder. I think it’s another reason they were okay stepping down when they did. Knowing how much this place meant to Brendan has made it difficult for them to be here. It makes them miss him too much. I feel the opposite. I feel more of a connection to him when I’m here. Which is why I really want to keep this property in our family. I know hanging on to this place is what Brendan would want. As crazy as it sounds, sometimes I feel like he’s still here. Or his soul is, at least.”
This is the longest Jesse’s ever spoken to me without looking at me. I get it. It can be easier to say hard things when we pretend we’re just talking out loud to ourselves.
“I don’t think that sounds crazy at all,” I chime in.
Jesse’s eyes find mine. “Thank you,” he says.
It’s the sincerest thank-you I’ve ever received. And I didn’t do anything but sit here and listen.
“Brendan and I were really close,” he continues, still looking at me. “We’re only two years apart. He was older than me. He always ran in a bigger circle than I did, so I was just one of his best friends. But he was my only best friend.”
I think this is Jesse’s way of explaining why his thank-you was so sincere. Normally, he’d be sitting here sharing this tragedy with Brendan. Only Brendan isn’t here. I am.
“Do you have siblings?” he asks.
“No, but I’ve had the same best friends since high school, and they’re like siblings.” I shudder at the thought of losing either of them. “Grace is a therapist who has always given the best advice. Zoe owns a yoga studio and is super free-spirited. They’re both fiercely loyal.”
Jesse takes another sip of his drink. “Will they visit while you’re here?”
“I think they plan to around Thanksgiving.”
“I look forward to meeting them.”
“What were Brendan and Molly like? Besides passionate about this place,” I ask, pulling my blanket tighter around me. It’s getting colder, but I’ll be damned if I can’t sit here long enough to hear Jesse talk more about the most important people to him.
“Brendan was a big jokester,” he explains. “He was always pulling pranks and trying to make whatever room he was in more fun. And Molly . . . she was both sweet and ambitious. The way she laughed at Brendan’s jokes always made them seem funnier than they ever really were. They both studied hospitality in college and were really looking forward to being in the shoes we’re in right now.”
“I wish they could take our places,” I say.
“Me too.” We both sit in silence. I’m not sure what’s going through Jesse’s head, but I can’t stop thinking about how unfair life can be. I wish there were more I could do to ease the pain he’s feeling.
“It’s getting cold,” Jesse says eventually. “Here, let me take that.” He reaches for my mug as we both get to our feet.
I hand it over and fold up my blanket, then his, tossing them back in the basket.
“Thanks again,” he says.
“Thank you for the drink. And for trusting me enough to share all that.”
He gives me a bashful glance before he starts to head in.
I’ve just taken a step toward my cabin when I turn back. “Hey, Jesse?” I call out.
“Yeah?” He faces me and meets my eyes, giving me his full attention again.
“Zoe and Grace may still be around, but it’s not like I have them with me for the next three months while I’m here.”
As soon as I say it, a silent understanding passes between us.
“Thanks,” he grins.
And with that one word, I think we just went from coworkers to friends.