Page 1 of The Last Lavender Sister

Prologue

People who thought small towns were cute and cozy certainly never lived in one. If anything, Aster Lavender thought they were overrated and slow. She’d grown up smack in the middle of stagnation in equally comatose Kansas her entire life, just waiting for something exciting to happen. Verdict? It was never going to. Homer’s Bluff didn’t even come with a cute name like the small towns in the heartwarming little TV movies. Unfortunate.

The town did have one thing going for it. Frequent storms. Aster loved them and their exact lack of predictability. That morning, she stared through her shop’s drive-through window, captivated by the show as one crept in. Lightning that streaked across a darkened sky was a beautiful occurrence that stole her heart and made her breath hitch. Aster watched a jagged line of it shoot through the sky and fracture into a million little unpredictable bursts.

How she longed to be like lightning.

No time for dreaming. She rolled her shoulders, snapping out of it. This weather was going to slow down business this morning, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a ton of doughnuts to make for those who did venture out. Aster didn’t mind a quiet morning here or there. Gave her time to catch her breath and get creative about the shop and its future. She loved coming up with more flavors and recipes for her artisan doughnuts in what had truly become not just a job but a passion project. Hole in One was her baby. She’d personally opened the tiny shop three years ago now with money she’d saved in a savings account since she was six plus a little bit of inheritance from an uncle—and the rest she’d borrowed from her mom, who’d always believed she’d be successful atwhatever she set her mind to. Being able to pay back every cent of that loan after two years was a true source of pride for Aster.

It helped that the shop was a success. The place had immediately found eager customers among Homer’s Bluff residents who didn’t mind paying a little extra for special. She carried four flavors of doughnuts a day to ensure top-notch quality and care. The best part was choosing what those flavors would be. The combination was key. The shop needed to offer a variety but also provide a complementary foursome in case her customers chose to consume them in sequence. Like a good wine pairing, a savory flavor partnership was critical. Plus, keeping the number of options small not only made her shop manageable for only herself and two part-time employees, but it kept her customers in suspense. What would be offered today? When would their favorite doughnut pop up on the menu board? Of course the best-loved doughnuts made more regular appearances. After all, she was also a businesswoman who needed to make her mortgage. For example, whenever word got out that she had Piggly Wigglies—her own take on maple bacon doughnuts—on the menu, people showed up in droves. She’d have a line of cars patiently waiting because they didn’t want to miss their chance. The scarcity tactic was effective. Who knew when Piggly Wigglies would be back? Better hurry and get over to Hole in One before they sold out.

Aster exhaled with pride and dusted the flour off her hands. All by design.

It was ten minutes to six, and daylight hadn’t even been hinted at yet. The town was slowly starting to wake as folks climbed out of bed in search of coffee. They’d jump in their cars, head to work, and think how nice it would be to enjoy a hot, fresh doughnut. Hell, maybe they should bring a dozen in for their coworkers to enjoy on a rainy day, boost morale. She’d be ready for them, always the first one to work, with trays of piping hot doughnuts made with only the freshest dough. Tori would be in soon to back her up, and Drew was scheduled for an hour after that when the midmorning rush hit hard. For now, Aster enjoyed the peace and quiet of the moment and the aroma of fresh fried dough.

Ten full trays lined the sheet pan rack. The first car, anticipating her opening, ambled its way up the uneven road toward her windowjust as Aster hung her chalkboard sign outside her drive-through, announcing the flavors of the day:

1. Glazed and Confused

2. Pistachio Rodeo

3. Strawberry Romance

4. Nutella My Secrets

A balanced partnership she was proud of. Traditional, sweet, decadent, and savory all represented on her board like a well-matched group of friends.

“Hey there. I’ll take a mixed dozen,” Mr. Landry said when she opened her window at six a.m. sharp. “But maybe toss in an extra Strawberry Romance.” He came by at least three times a week and preferred her fruit leaning offerings. Aster checked her line. Two more cars. She would be on her own for the first hour, and then Tori and Drew would be in to back her up when the rush got going. Drew would take over the fry station. Tori would handle the drive-through and Aster would top the doughnuts and man any counter business. The Hole in One was designed as a stop and go. She did the lion’s share of business from her drive-through window, but the stand did offer counter service inside, along with two very petite tables that became overcrowded when there was a line. Her place was small, but she liked that about it. People came and people left. The pressure was minimal.

“Coming right up, Mr. Landry,” she told the pharmacist, already wearing his white coat. She assembled her most popular box, three of each flavor, accepted his payment, and waited as the next car drove forward.

“Oh, it’s Strawberry Romance day!” Mrs. Rule exclaimed as she checked out the menu. “I’ve been waiting. Oh, this is shaping up to be a good day already. I was just going to order one, but now I’ll need three. No. Make it six. An even half dozen is a stronger number and probably better luck, right?”

“I think that’s a good call,” Aster said. “How are the taxes coming?” She wasn’t great at small talk but longed to be better, and the practice helped. The window was a great way to work that muscle until Tori arrived and took over.

“March has certainly been busy, but with April looming, I can hardly complain. Don’t wait too late to bring me all of your receipts,” she said. “We don’t have a ton of time.”

Aster nodded. “Got them all ready for you. I’ll make an appointment next week.” She handed over the bag of cream cheese stuffed strawberry doughnuts and made a mental note of how many had been sold. She’d need to start borrowing bits of time between cars to bolster her supply until backup arrived. She had the fryer hot and her dough rounded and ready. Just a little bit of multitasking to keep the engine chugging away.

Once early morning shifted to late morning, the doughnut dash slowed to a doughnut stroll. She had a car here or there but earned time to start cleanup and prep for the next morning. That’s when she saw the large gray and white pickup lumbering her way. Her father. Probably heard she had his favorite, pistachio.

“Hi,” she said as he slowed to her window. “Looking for a fix?”

“I’ll take six pistachio,” he said, grinning like the lumberjack he resembled. “Your mom wanted me to ask you to swing by for lunch. She made chicken salad and is real proud about it. Keeps going on about how it has…” His fingers moved as he searched for his words. “The little crunchy things. She says it’s your favorite, and you should come before your brother scarfs it all, and you know Sage. He will clobber it.”

“Grapes,” she supplied, smothering a smile. Her father was a burly man with graying hair, pink cheeks, a close-trimmed beard, and big hands that used to scoop her up onto his shoulders. He shied away from things like chicken salad, opting for burgers and turkey legs or anything that might lead to a heart attack or be found at a Renaissance Fair.

He nodded. “Yep. Those.”

“Perfect. I love it when she adds grapes.”

He seemed upset. “Grapes or nuts on a sandwich make me suspicious.”

“Don’t you also hate cotton?”

He raised his shoulders to his ears, a sign he had the willies, which made her grin. He was the most sensitive giant man she’d ever met. But that’s what made him pretty great.

His clothes were dusty, which meant he’d likely been at workon the farm early, getting ahead of the sun. He spent a lot of his time outdoors with his crew. The Lavenders had built a solid reputation off their semifamous lavender farm and the rustic two-story gift shop that featured a variety of products manufactured with lavender straight off the farm: soaps, oils, candles, culinary spices, and even lavender infused firewood. The commitment to standing out didn’t end there, however. Her parents had named her and all three of her siblings after flowers.Sigh. Yes, flowers. They meant well. Her two oldest siblings, Violet and Marigold, were vivacious go-getters who did most everything together. Three years younger was her brother, Sage, who was probably the best-looking human anyone had ever seen. He was also affable and smart, which didn’t seem fair.

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