Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

From the Kitchen of Verbena Fullbright

It's not only cakes, or cookies, or vanilla extract (unicorn or dragon tears optional), or anything you make that I consider homemade. Homemade comes from what's inside of you. Because life isn't what you make of it. It's what you give of it. So give openly, love always, and happiness will shine through you, bright as can be.

Addie

The sun was shining, glistening on the morning dew in the fields that lined the road as Aunt Bean drove like her hair was on fire. The tail end of Sweetie swerved into the oncoming lane as she swung around a corner.

I thought, perhaps, her driving was going to do her in—all three of us in, really—long before her heart ever did.

With the force of the turn, I fell heavily against Tessa Jane, who was plastered against the door.

"Whoo-ee!" Bean hooted, yanking the gearshift.

"Seriously, have you considered adding airbags?" Tessa Jane asked. "Surely they can be retrofitted."

"I'll add them to a spreadsheet," I offered.

"Fuddy-duddies," Bean chirped. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

"It's worse than a roller coaster," I said to Tessa Jane, sure I was as green as the truck itself.

She nodded. "I'm wishing I'd taken a dose of Dramamine with breakfast."

Aunt Bean glanced over at us and rolled her eyes.

It was coming up on seven thirty in the morning. The roads were empty, not a car in sight, not a person, not even a cow, and Bean was taking full advantage of it to appease her inner race car driver.

It had been a little more than two weeks since Bean's diagnosis. Last weekend, she had thrown a potluck indulgence party. Her last hurrah before she made the enormous change to her lifestyle. The farmhouse had been packed with friends and neighbors who'd come bearing fried chicken and catfish, onion rings, honey hams, tacos, Chinese food, gumbo, biscuits and gravy, pizza, sausage and peppers, chips, dips, salsa, and chicken and dumplings. Willa Jo and Delilah brought the booze. Pinky provided a carton of cigarettes. Ernie had brought ideas for matching tattoos. Stan had brought Bean a bouquet of wildflowers, which rekindled the debate that he'd been her admirer all along. There had been dancing until the wee hours, the record player put to constant use.

When Bean woke up the next day, she declared it the first day of the rest of her healthy life, punctuating the sentence with two raps of her walking stick. The declaration had been of the whispered variety, in which the quiet thudding of her walking stick, with its rubber tip, seemed wholly sympathetic.

Because she had an enormous hangover.

For breakfast, she drank a cup of black coffee and ate cantaloupe, scrambled eggs with only pepper, and low-carb toast with just a smear of butter.

Because butter was the one thing she refused to give up.

Then she went for a walk with Tessa Jane and me into the woods.

Because the doctor said regular exercise could only help her damaged heart.

That night she'd sipped herbal tea instead of spiked hot chocolate.

Because cutting back on alcohol was important for regulating heart rhythms.

But only one cup.

Because too much liquid intake could start causing trouble with her kidneys.

There were already whispers of a pacemaker, but it was talk pushed off to another day. It had become clear after visiting her cardiologist that she had just started out on what was going to be a lengthy road. Bean already had spreadsheets. For medications. For doctors. For her new diet. No one was more determined to live as long as possible than she was.

After the phone call had come with the results of her MRI, the starlings had been keeping to the wood line near the starlight crater. Their distance meant there wouldn't be any more upheavals in our lives. Not anytime soon, at least. Now we just had to focus on leveling out again. Learning to live with all that had been revealed. Continuing to find the bright side of life.

Bean slowed down as we neared Market Street. There wasn't so much as a wiggle from the back end of the truck as she made the turn.

"Get ready to have your socks knocked clean off," Bean said as we rolled toward the bakery, the trees twinkling.

The sign that had been on back order for what felt like years was finally in and Bean wanted us to be the first to see it.

"We're not going to be gandering another tarp, are we?" Tessa Jane asked.

"Such sass." Bean tsk ed loudly, shaking her head, which made her hair wobble to and fro. Then in an offhanded manner she added, "Last I heard, Ty was going to use a drop cloth for the grand reveal."

Tessa Jane and I laughed and as the sound bounced around the cab of the truck, I realized how happy I was. I'd just been booked for the movie I'd auditioned for, I'd accepted a part-time job as a Sugarbird—just twelve hours a week—and I was sitting next to the two people I loved most in the world.

Oh, and Sawyer and I had a date tomorrow night and plans to see Luna's play on Sunday.

Life could only be better if Bean was fully healthy, but as she'd taught me when I was girl, light needed darkness to make you appreciate its brightness.

The radio played a jaunty classic country tune that had a lyric about a mule and a grasshopper eating ice cream, and I noticed Tessa Jane smiling. No doubt she'd caught the grasshopper reference as well, and it had made her think of Ty. He, who was coming up with every excuse under the sun to stop by the farmhouse for a visit. I didn't think it was only because he wanted to help Aunt Bean paint the quack shack or clean gutters or to replenish Hambone's kibble supply.

Aunt Bean rolled to a stop at a red light. In the pizzeria's storefront window hung a mayoral campaign poster, covered in stars and stripes. Mostly stars. On it read: VOTE STAN REEVES FOR MAYOR. Most of the shops along Market Street had similar posters in their windows.

Despite Winchester's criminal charges, he'd refused to withdraw from the election. That's when Stan had stepped up, deciding to throw his hat into the ring.

The town quickly chose sides, as it tended to do, and by all the posters and yard signs, it had become clear the town was backing Stan. What was to become of Winchester was still to be determined by the courts, but I breathed easier knowing he'd never be able to damage the starlight.

Mr. Stubblefield had fast-tracked our request to conserve the starlight crater. Once the crater and several acres of land surrounding it—including the woods where the starlings lived—was put into a land trust, the starlight would always be protected. And we were free to build on the remaining acreage.

As the light turned green, the truck jolted forward. "Now close your eyes, girls," Bean instructed as we neared the end of the business district.

It seemed like forever ago that we'd taken this same drive to see the bakery, while it had still been a work in progress. But today was Leap Day and the bakery's grand reopening celebration.

The party started this afternoon and would undoubtedly run well past dark, but Aunt Bean insisted on giving Tessa Jane and me a sneak peek at the finished result.

I heard the click of the blinker, then I swayed slightly as the truck turned. We bobbled over what I knew to be the stamped concrete parking lot, and Aunt Bean brought the truck to a stop.

She cut the engine and said, "Okay, on the count of three, open your eyes but only look straight ahead. One, two, three!"

I cracked open my eyes and was disoriented for a second, because we were parked parallel to the bakery, the nose of the truck facing the pocket park.

It took everything in me not to look to my right, at the bakery. Instead, I focused on the two men standing in a landscape island, one on each side of a wooden sign draped in two paint-stained drop cloths.

Tessa Jane leaned forward, squinted, and smiled. "Is that a gnome next to that shrub?"

Bean laughed. "Sure is. One of the games on tap for today is Gnome Quest, which is kind of like an Easter egg hunt but with gnomes. Whoever finds one wins a prize. Whoever finds the most wins the grand prize."

Tessa Jane rubbed her hands together, looking like she was ready to hop out of the car and start searching right that minute. "What's the grand prize?"

With her eagerness, she looked much younger than her twenty-five years. Her birthday had been a few days ago, and it had been a quiet celebration, just the way she wanted it. We'd had a heart-healthy dinner with Henrie and Dare, Ernie and Ty, Luna and Sawyer. I'd made berry tarts for dessert and stuck a single candle in Tessa Jane's as we sang the birthday song. When she made her wish, she'd hesitated for only a moment before glancing at Aunt Bean, then blew out the flame.

"To be determined," Bean said with an air that declared she knew full well but was choosing to be secretive. "Now, are y'all ready? Ty looks like he's about to pop with impatience."

"Yes, ma'am," we said.

She gave Ty a grin and a thumbs up.

He took hold of one drop cloth, and Dare Fife, who stood on the opposite side of the sign, took hold of the other. They yanked the cloths away, revealing the new sign, a masterpiece done in silver and blue that had an iridescent starling flying along with a string of three stars in its beak. The sign read THE STARLING CAKE AND COOKIE COMPANY .

Tessa Jane's breath caught, and I automatically reached for her hand, holding it tightly.

"This sign has been on order for months. How did you know I'd say yes, Aunt Bean?" she asked.

Aunt Bean smiled at Tessa Jane. "I was working with nothing but glimmers of hope, peanut."

Tessa Jane had accepted Aunt Bean's offer to share bakery space right after our starwalk. A few days later, I'd asked Aunt Bean if getting Tessa Jane to work at the bakery had been her grand plan all along.

Gently, she'd cupped my cheeks, and said, "My plan had nothing to do with the bakery or the starlight field or anything other than hoping you two would realized that you're stronger together. I love you both so very much."

It was then I realized that when she'd called the emergency family meeting last month she hadn't really needed Tessa Jane's and my help, no matter what she'd claimed. She'd wanted us to reconnect, to bond, to find each other again, and she'd known we weren't likely to do it without her. After all, she'd always been the bridge between us.

It was a plan that had worked out beautifully despite some bumps in the road.

"Can we look around now?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Aunt Bean laughed as she pushed open the door. "Absolutely."

As soon as Tessa Jane climbed out of the truck, she made a beeline for Dare's truck, which was parked close by. Pepper's head hung out the window.

I followed her out and took a moment to soak in all the changes. The new parking lot, the gas lamplights, the rockers on the porch, the lettering in the window that matched the sign out front. Flowers filled window boxes and the branches of the new trees rustled in the breeze.

And it hit me then why Bean had really taken on this renovation.

She'd done it for Tessa Jane and me.

It was a reflection of our fresh start. Of working together.

Suddenly, I realized that the three stars the starling carried represented Bean, Tessa Jane, and me.

Family.

"You like it?" Bean asked, stepping up next to me.

I blinked away the tears in my eyes. "I love it."

"Me, too, punkin. Me, too."

While Ty deposited the drop cloths in the bed of his truck, Dare let Pepper out of his. On the day he'd been released from the hospital, he contacted a divorce lawyer, saying he couldn't abide being married to someone who could be so cruel and callous to an animal… or to him. Not even a week later, Petal packed up and moved to the beach.

We'd all rallied around him, trying to fill up the empty space, but he still carried an air of sadness that I suspected would hover for a while. He'd shared with us that he'd started seeing one of the therapists Henrietta had recommended, and I had the feeling that given time he'd realize he was better off alone than with someone who seemed to care about only herself.

Because Dare had some lingering weakness from his illness and operation, he was on what would hopefully be a brief unpaid leave of absence from his job at the flour mill, where he usually did heavy lifting his whole shift. Ty had stepped up to fill that particular emptiness with an offer to temporarily work with him doing odds and ends, light duty. The bright side to that, of course, was that at most of the sites Pepper, who was now fully healed from the thorn incident, could go along with him.

Once Pepper was out of the truck, she didn't hesitate to throw her front paws on Tessa Jane's chest and start licking her face. Hambone had taken to moping without Pepper at the farmhouse until we finally let the kittens have the run of the place. Then he took to herding them all day long. It wouldn't be long now before he was home with Ernie, though. She was no longer having dizzy spells and planned to make the move back home within the month. Luna had promised that when she walked him for Miss Ernie, she'd bring him by to see us.

As the sun glistened on the morning dew, Tessa Jane said something to Dare and he laughed. The way the two of them—three of them, really, because Luna wasn't to be left out—had bonded was truly special to witness.

Aunt Bean's phone trilled. She fished it from her bag and her eyebrows dipped as she looked at the screen. "It's Henrietta. Hello, darlin'," she answered. "What's that now? She sure is. Her phone's probably in the truck. One second." She lowered the phone and said, "Tessa Jane, your mama's on the line. She wants to talk to you. Says it's urgent."

Concern flared in Tessa Jane's eyes as she rushed over to take the call, scratching at a hive on her neck as she did so. "Mama? Is everything okay?" There was a beat of silence before she said, "This afternoon? But why? I don't understand." Then her eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open. "I can't believe it. Right, right. Okay. I'll see you soon." She hung up the phone and looked at us. "Y'all are not going to believe what's happened."