Page 24 of Harvest Season in Kentbury
“Sure, I’d like that.And no, I haven’t been avoiding you,” she adds, surprising me.“I’ve just been really busy.”
I laugh it off, not admitting that she’s right.“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with the gallery.But yeah, I’d love to hang out more.”
We work in comfortable silence for a while, and it feels ...right.Like this is how things should be.For the first time in a long time, I feel less stressed.Being here, working with her—it feels like I actually belong somewhere.It feels good.But then the reality of my life in Boston creeps in, and I know it’s not that simple.
My siblings would love it if I moved here, but what about the firm?I’ve spent years building that place, putting everything into it.How do I just walk away from that?The responsibilities, the clients, the pressure—it’s all waiting for me back in the city, and I’m not sure how to balance it.
I glance at Meadow as we work, and the thought of leaving feels ...wrong.But how can I make it work?
ChapterEighteen
Meadow
I stand back,wiping my hands on my apron, and take in the sight of the gallery.It’s finally starting to come together.The walls are freshly painted, the lighting is just right, and the pieces are beginning to find their place.My grandmother and Jane are here with me, helping set things up.Well, Jane is helping.My grandmother is mostly supervising, offering her endless opinions.
“That wall needs more color,” Grandma says, squinting at one of the displays.“Something bright.Or bold.You don’t want people falling asleep in here.”
Jane snorts as she adjusts a frame.“Because art galleries are so famous for putting people to sleep.”Then she throws me a look, like she’s wondering if Grandma’s been dipping into the wine reserved for the opening.
I laugh, shaking my head.“It’s supposed to be calm and welcoming, Grandma.Not a carnival.”
“Calm is fine, but boring?That won’t do.Not if you want people talking about your gallery for weeks.”She winks at me, a mischievous grin on her face.“My friends from New York are coming, you know.I want them to say ‘wow,’ not ‘blah.’”
“They’ll be wowed.Trust me, they’ll be talking about this place for years,” I assure her, hoping that’s true.
As we work, Jane sets down a stack of art pieces and stretches her arms.“Speaking of people talking ...have you heard the latest rumors about Raffa?”
I freeze for a second, pretending to fuss with a painting.Of course, they’d bring him up.I should ignore it, but I can’t help myself.“No.What now?”
Jane gives me a teasing smile.“Well, apparently, there’s gossip that he’s leaving town soon.Then there are rumors he’s staying and becoming a carpenter.But the most believable one?He’s supposedly opening a law firm right here in Kentbury.”
I try to keep my face neutral, but my stomach twists at the thought of him leaving.Why is the idea of him staying—or leaving—affecting me so much?It’s not like we’re ...anything.Yet the thought of him staying sparks a glimmer of hope.Maybe we could kiss again?Is that even something that might happen?
Jane narrows her eyes, seeing right through me.“And what would you say if he stays?A lawyer in Kentbury could be a game changer.”
Grandma jumps in before I can respond.“It’d be great for business.God knows we could use legal help around here without having to call some big-shot lawyer from Burlington or Boston.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, focusing too intently on hanging another frame.“A lawyer in town would be useful.”Especially since I’ve been imagining all sorts of ways I could use him.His mouth, his hands, his ...
My thoughts are clearly not as subtle as I’d like, because Jane isn’t letting it go.She gives me that I’m onto you look.“Useful?Sure, but that’s not really what we’re talking about, is it?”
Grandma chuckles, and now I know I’m trapped.They’ve cornered me.“Come on, Meadow,” she says, leaning against the counter with a knowing grin.“It’s obvious you and Raffa have ...chemistry.”
“He’s older than me,” I blurt, grasping at straws.“I don’t think he’s interested in someone so young.”That should keep them off my case, right?It’s not like I really care about his age.Ten years is nothing, but I can use it as a good excuse to shoo them away, hopefully.
But Jane just crosses her arms, smirking.“Uh-huh, and the festival is why you’ve been blushing every time someone mentions his name?”
“I am not blushing,” I insist, though my cheeks are definitely betraying me.Damn it.
“Yes, you are,” Grandma says with a teasing grin.“Look, honey, all we’re saying is you two look cute together.The whole town’s noticed.People are talking.”
I groan, turning to face them.“People are always talking.It doesn’t mean anything.”
Jane raises an eyebrow, not letting up.“Doesn’t it?You’re spending all this time with him, and it’s not just about the festival, is it?”
I bite my lip, unsure how to respond.The truth is ...I do like Raffa, a lot.More than I’m willing to admit, even to myself.But I’m still figuring it out.After everything that happened with Bryce—the Ass, the Bastard, the Cheater who’ll never rhyme with nice—I’m not sure I’m ready for anything serious again.
Yet, with Raffa ...it feels different.He’s kind.He listens.He doesn’t push.And yeah, he’s ridiculously good-looking in that rugged, grumpy way that makes my stomach flip every time he cracks even the tiniest smile.
