Alec tested the ladder rungs before climbing inside. He used the flashlight on his phone to peek around the space that held his boyhood hopes and dreams.
Animals had chewed through the old quilts and mattress, but an abandoned tapestry still hung on one wall. Plastic milk crates, emptied of their old treasures, littered the floor. The clear PVC curtains they’d hung in the windows to keep rain out were missing a few panels. Colby would be horrified. She’d always kept it clean, mostly because that had been the price Hunter demanded if she wanted to hang out with them.
Closing his eyes, Alec inhaled through his nose, taking in the familiar scents that opened the floodgates to many memories. The good ones. The years when Joe had wanted to be part of Alec’s life.
“Why can’t I stay?” Joe whined.
“Because you’re too young.”
“I’m in middle school now.” Joe straightened his spine, as if trying to compete with Alec’s height.
“Barely. Besides, Hunter and I have our own plans.” Alec tossed his sleeping bag on the mattress. “I’ll sleep out here with you some other night, Joe.”
Joe’s frown softened. “Promise?”
“Promise.” Alec tossed Joe a peanut-butter-and-fudge brownie, which Joe shoved into his mouth in almost one bite.
“One more?” he managed to say between chews.
“Only if you go home now.”
“Okay.” Joe held out his hand, and then, with a little sigh, turned to leave. At the top of the ladder, he said, “Next weekend is my turn, right?”
“Sure.” Alec sighed, anticipating a sleepless night in the tree house with Joe and his thousand questions. “Now go home.”
Naturally, Alec had taken his brother’s love for granted. He’d shooed him away as often as he’d given in. What he’d give now for a second chance. To turn back time and clear the air rather than let his wounded pride drive him to twist the knife.
Clearing his throat, Alec climbed back down the ladder, guilt cinched around him like a straitjacket. On his way back along the path, he heard faint music and other noises coming from Leslie Cabot’s. Veering to his right, he pushed through the shrubs leading to her yard.
In the distant glow of the back-porch lights, he saw Colby finishing her mother’s garden fence.
“Need help?”
“Oh!” She jumped. “Jeez, you scared me. What were you doing back there?”
“Checking out the tree house.”
Her face lit, and with her high ponytail, she looked almost as young as when they’d actually hung out back there. “Really? I haven’t been in ages.”
“We’ve been replaced by a family of squirrels.”
She laughed, lifting his mood. He’d always loved the sound of her laughter and the twinkle in those tipped-up eyes. “I hope they’ve enjoyed our little haven as much as we did.”
She blushed then, and he wondered if she might be remembering that old kiss. Probably not. It had only counted for one or two minutes among the thousands they’d spent there. Insignificant to her, anyway.
Her flush faded as her expression turned melancholy, and he suspected she thought of Joe.
“Too bad adults don’t have tree houses, too,” he said.
“Maybe I should’ve named my restaurant The Tea House,” she teased.
“A place for grown-up dreams.” They stared at each other, her face filling with approval, and he suspected she, too, missed the comfort that place of lost innocence had provided. Alec reached for the fencing. “Let me help.”
Colby paused before handing him the wire cutters. “You know, I’d worried things between us would be awkward, but you’ve gone out of your way to make it easy. Now it sort of feels like old times with us.”
If reminding her of old times made her smile like that, he’d find a million other ways to be the friend she remembered fondly.
Chapter Five
“Sorry I’m late.” Gentry waltzed into A CertainTea and lobbed her brown leather Miu Miu satchel on the table where Colby had been impatiently waiting.
At five feet ten inches tall, Gentry commanded attention. Factor in her auburn hair and green eyes, and no one could deny her sister’s striking, if not beautiful, appearance. Her quirky fashion sense—today in a heavily patterned, short layered skirt and an intricate mesh top—only enhanced her eye-catching looks. The outfit looked like something she’d cobbled together from a secondhand store, but it probably bore a Gaultier label.
Gentry glanced around the space she hadn’t once visited during the renovation. “Looks nice. Love the gray floors and all the taupe and cream accents. The wood beams and live plants are a nice touch. Classy yet Zen.”
“Thanks. I’m shooting for hip yet pretty enough to be a wedding venue.” Colby particularly loved the floor-to-ceiling retractable glass doors that offered guests beautiful views of the lake.
“You nailed it.” Gentry collapsed into one of the leather-covered chairs. “So why’d you call me here?”
Colby held her breath. Here goes nothing. “I need your help.”
“My help?” Gentry’s disbelieving smirk pricked at Colby’s conscience. “With what? Dad?”
“No, not with Dad. With all of this.” She gestured around the restaurant.
Gentry sat forward, her long legs lazily sprawled to the sides, and rested her chin on her fist, causing the dozen bangles on her arm to jangle. “How can I help?”
How indeed?
“I’m overwhelmed by everything on my plate. You know I hate social media, so I thought maybe you might take the lead on keeping the website and media pages fresh and appealing. Between your photography background and your online presence, it seems like a good fit.”
Gentry’s pretty eyes narrowed. “Did Dad put you up to this? Is this his way of keeping me busy so I don’t have time to hang out with Jake?”
Colby could lie, but she suspected Gentry would know it. Maybe if people started treating her sister like a responsible grown-up, she’d start acting like one. “Okay, yes. Dad asked me to consider it, but he didn’t force me. After thinking about it, I realized you could help. You’d do a better job than I would with using apps to drive business our way.”
Gentry sat back, lips pursed. “What about my classes?”
“We could work around those. A lot of the work could be done on your own time. I’d only need you here a few half days each week to help me with other things in the office.”
“Why are you really doing this?” Gentry cocked her head, clearly untrusting.
“I just told you; I could use help. And it would be nice to work with my sister—someone who has my back—instead of an employee who doesn’t care if I succeed or fail.” That part was true, even if Colby had exaggerated the rest. “It’ll be a nice way for us to reconnect, too. I know I haven’t been the best sister these past few years.”
Gentry’s expression softened. “It’s okay. You’ve been grieving.”
“I still could’ve been better.” Colby hated that Gentry gave her a free pass. If anything, hadn’t Mark’s suicide reinforced the dangers of not paying attention to the people you loved? “So, will you help me?”