Page 28 of The Wedding Run
Jazz studies the teabag’s tag. “This isn’t a brand. Or at least one that I’m familiar with. Looks almost homemade.” She raises the teabag to her nose and breathes in the scent. Her nose crinkles. “Fish?”
Dad and I chuckle, and then I explain. “Dad kept it in his fishing tackle box.”
“That was a mistake,” he confesses. “But I didn’t want my girls to find it, and then I forgot where I hid it.”
“That’s why,” I say, “I’mgoing to hold onto the letter until one of my sisters is ready to read it.”
“Good idea,” Dad agrees. “Watch out for Elle. She already hit me up for it.”
Jazz nods as if all of this is an everyday occurrence. Then she bravely takes a deeper whiff, not pulling back or screwing up her face. She’s calm, serene, and thoughtful, breathing in the scent for a third time. “Possibly peppermint. But that’s all I can detect. Tea leaves are empaths in a way, taking on scents and flavors stronger than themselves. Of course, if we opened the bag, I could examine the tea leaves better. But it would ruin it.”
She hands it to me, and I tuck it safely into the envelope. Then Jazz takes hold of my hand. “Maybe your mother simply wanted you to take in each moment and allow peace to enter your heart. Especially on your wedding day.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice caught on emotions I can’t begin to describe. Disappointment settles in. I had hoped to learn more about Momma. The teabag meant something to her, but I may never find the answer.
“Thanks, Jazz,” Luke says, “for coming all this way.”
“I’d drive across the Mason-Dixon Line for one of these.” She waggles the to-go cup. "Folks come from miles around just for Luke's coffee. Thanks again."
Luke grins, and I know I have my work cut out for me.
CHAPTER 12
Libby
Luke battens down the hatches, placing my suitcase in the truck’s cab and making sure the windows are rolled up tight. We are the only customers at the Whistle While You Work carwash.
I slide quarters into the slot. “Women everywhere,” I tease, “must be crying in their coffee, believing you’re off the market.”
“They’re crying if they’re drinking instant."
Unexpected laughter bursts out of me. It garners a curious look from Luke.
“Too bad Jazz couldn’t help with the tea,” he says. “You okay about it?”
I nod, pushing away the disappointment. “She identified one type. Sort of.”
“Crappie?” he jokes.
I laugh again. It feels good, like a release.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Libby, you don’t have to help Andrea with her wedding. If it’s too much after all you’ve been through.”
“I don’t mind. It’s what I’m good at. And it’s a nice distraction.”
“I do appreciate it,” he says. “She’s been unbelievably stressed. And I’m at a loss. Never had a wedding in The Brew before.”
“Most brides are overwhelmed. They’ve been dreaming of their wedding day since they were little girls. It’s normal for their hopes to be high. Add that to promising to love and honor till death they do part… well, it adds to the stress level.”
“Better step back,” he warns, sending water spray across the hood. Water hits metal and glass, making a hissing sound. Droplets fly about, and I ease back another step or two.
A strange realization hits me. “This is something Derek would do.”
Luke moves the sprayer along the truck’s bumper. “Wash my truck? I doubt it.”
“Telling the other groomsman to decorate your truck.”
Luke releases the nozzle, and the spray stops. “I should have figured. We used to prank each other all the time in college.”
