Chapter Fifteen

“Somebody’s awfully happy for six thirty in the morning,” Maisy said as Violet skipped into the bakery, humming a song that’d include cartoon birds if her life were a Disney movie. “Especially since that same someone got home super late last night.”

Violet propped her forearms on the counter opposite her sister. “I didn’t wake you, did I? I tried so hard to be quiet.”

“No, I slept like a rock—Isla didn’t even get up once. But you weren’t home when I went to bed, so I sleuthed my way to the getting-home-late conclusion.” Maisy tapped her temple. “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“I’ve been framed,” Violet said, throwing her arms up in a surrender stance. “It wasn’t me. It was…Professor Firefighter, in the shower, with a…very large candlestick.”

Maisy scrunched up her face, but the beep beep of a timer sounded. She straightened and headed around the wall that separated the storefront from the kitchen, gesturing for Violet to follow. “I assume you were with Ford?”

All the smiling began to hurt Violet’s cheeks, but it was an ache she’d gladly endure. “Mm-hmm. He took me mud bogging. Have you ever been?”

“Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?”

Violet blinked. Then the lightbulb snapped on and she laughed.

“Oops, that sort of popped right out.” The sweet scent of muffins filled the air as Maisy opened her slightly-worse-for-wear oven. “Thanks to Mama, I’ve had all the proper debutante training and etiquette lessons. But you don’t live in the sticks without picking up what Mama would deem inappropriate language or getting your feet dirty.”

Maisy snagged the knitted pink oven mitt off the wall, and Violet flinched as her sister retrieved the muffin tin, afraid she’d get burned through the holes. When she’d asked about the yarn mitten the other day, Maisy informed her the Craft Cats had gifted it upon the reopening of the bakery, along with hand towels, dishcloths, and the tea cozy that transformed the kettle into a big cupcake.

Who in town even drank tea, except the iced, overly sweet kind? They’d never brought out that costumed kettle, not once.

Maybe I should start. Violet had read green tea was one of the healthiest beverages on the planet. Lots of antioxidants, lowered your risk of cancer, along with a myriad of other benefits. “Do you have any green tea?”

The muffin tin hit the counter with a clink as Maisy tilted her head. “Are you avoiding the subject on purpose?”

What subject? “No?”

The fist went to her hip, which meant Maisy was about to whip out the thick southern accent—she tended to save it for when she was short on patience. “I need me some deets. Yesterday you wouldn’t stop caterwaulin’ about delivering the cupcakes to the ball game because you didn’t want to see Ford. Then I find out you went mud boggin’ with the guy.”

Maisy tossed aside the mitt. “I’m guessin’ something happened between Points A and B.” Suddenly her spine went stick straight. “Shower. Very large candlestick.” Her eyes flew so wide, Violet feared they’d pop right out of her head. “You had sex with Ford McGuire.”

Even though no one else was there, Violet glanced around before excitedly nodding. “We fell in the mud, and then we kissed a little—more like a lot. Naturally we needed to clean ourselves off. One thing led to another…”

“And you had sex,” Maisy said, her voice pitching at the end.

A flutter careened through Violet, swelling into a torrid wave as their shared shower replayed in her mind. “Supah-hot sex.” Violet closed the distance and grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “We’re talking the kind where I left my body for a minute and I was, like, looking down at us having sex as the water poured over us. Then I thought wow, that’s so freakin’ hot. I should jump back in my body to finish. And I did. Twice.”

Maisy’s mouth formed a meticulous O, the red lipstick she’d put on today accenting her shock, and Violet feared she’d overshared.

Then Maisy threw a hand to her chest and said, “Praise the Lawd. I was worried you’d never have sex again, and, bless Benjamin’s heart, I could just somehow tell he was not good at it.”

Violet almost defended him, the way she’d mentally done whenever their time between the sheets fell on the lackluster side. He was busy. Stressed. It was her fault for not reminding him the position he preferred didn’t work for her. For her mind drifting to her to-do list and if she should paint the walls a different color and which photo shoot had she scheduled for the next day?

It hit her how many excuses she’d made on his behalf over the years. Not only for the someday wedding thing but in several aspects of their relationship. “In the beginning he made an effort, but this past year, he more went through the mediocre motions. Ford, on the other hand…” Violet fanned her face. “Oh my.”

Maisy gave a diminutive clap before she threw her arms around Violet’s neck. “I’m so happy for you. And I’m not tempted at all to point out that he has dark hair and fair skin.”

The eye roll Maisy couldn’t possibly see was no match for the wattage on Violet’s smile anyway. “I’m tryin’ not to get ahead of myself.”

Huh. If she wasn’t mistaken, there’d been a bit of southern twang in that statement. Being in Uncertainty was rubbing off on her.

A handful of years ago, that’d send her running, but now…? Violet squeezed her sister. It didn’t seem so bad.

When they broke apart, Violet noticed the massive number of cupcakes on the counter. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. Remember how the Craft Cats’ quilting bazaar is tonight? The one that funds the historical society, so that whenever a building requires renovating or repairs, they have the money.”

Violet searched her gray matter but came up blank. “I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember.” Either she hadn’t been paying attention or her brain had shoved it aside for new information.

“No big deal,” Maisy said. “You did warn me that while you were painting and decorating, your ADHD kicks in hard. I guess I figured you were exaggerating.”

“I wish,” Violet said. Irritation came along with her struggle to focus—not just for whoever she’d accidentally ignored but for herself. She constantly lost her keys, purse, sunglasses, et cetera. Her muscles tensed, steeling herself for Maisy’s exasperation.

“Seriously, Vi, don’t worry about it. I kind of wish I could forget about the bazaar—I can’t seem to catch up. I was behind yesterday but thought I’d have extra time during my usual lull. I forgot that it was bingo day and the seniors stayed until close, and then it was time to get Isla, and”—Maisy pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed circles there—“between all the diaper changes and pumping and feeding sessions, I seem to have misplaced my brain, along with my ability to multitask.”

“Hey,” Violet said, adopting a pragmatic pose. “You’re still a new mom, and not getting enough sleep would wear on anyone. You’re brilliant and beautiful and kind and…”

Violet hesitated, not because she didn’t mean the words that’d snagged on the tip of her tongue but because emotion clotted her throat.

“I love you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these past several months. I’m so lucky to have you for a sister.”

Tears gathered in Maisy’s eyes. “I love you, too. This morning I panicked at how close you are to being done with the remodel. I don’t want you to leave.”

“Well, I still plan on painting your tables and chairs to match the accents on the walls. And I’m barely getting my photography feet underneath me, so I haven’t so much as contemplated my next step. But I’ll be staying put for at least another two or three weeks.”

“Or—hear me out—you could stay forever. Plenty of people around the county could use an award-winning photographer.”

Violet wasn’t quite sure what to say, since she hadn’t considered the possibility of staying in Uncertainly indefinitely.

“Isla adores you,” Maisy continued. “She could use a fun auntie as her grandma puts her through those stuffy lessons I had to endure—it’s the Hurst way, goin’ back generations. And Travis keeps talking about how happy I sound, and it’s because of you.”

Warmth flooded Violet, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Maisy wasn’t done.

“I’m willing to exchange baked goods and room and board for biannual pictures of my family, which, trust me, is an unbelievable deal. If you’re having out-of-body sex with Ford, that’s a bonus.”

“Oh, so now you’re offering me a bonus in the form of sex?” Violet added a dramatic gasp. “What would human resources say?”

Humor and exasperation battled it out in Maisy’s features, her lips remaining pursed through both.

“I’m not even sure what Ford would say about that,” Violet said.

“Sex on the regular with a beautiful woman with curves I can’t help but envy…? I guarantee he’d be beyond fine with it.”

Violet leaned her hip against the counter, careful not to disrupt the cooling cupcakes. The idea that Maisy envied anything of hers while she’d often wished for her sister’s metabolism and cute nose struck her as funny. Guess everyone wanted whatever they didn’t have. “From the sound of it, you’ve given this a lot of thought. You’re not going to unveil a presentation with bullet points, are you?”

The endearment Maisy packed into her words as she said, “I’ll create one if that’s what it takes” caused Violet to blink back tears of her own, so much warmth radiating through her, she fretted she might start another fire.

This one she’d let consume her, though.

All her life, she’d sought this type of unconditional love from men. First her father, then her boyfriends, and particularly with Benjamin—probably because he’d come the closest. Maybe even because she thought he was the closest a person as scattered as herself could get.

With Maisy, Violet wouldn’t ever have to worry their relationship was one-sided, which made it that much easier to say, “No need. I’ll think about it.”