Chapter 9

9

T ucker couldn’t believe he had kissed Reagan Bradley. He’d felt an attraction to her from the time they first met, yet guilt flooded him because it seemed as if his feelings toward Reagan made him disloyal to Josie. Yet Josie would be the first to encourage Tucker to ease up on himself and find love with someone else.

Truthfully, he was frightened to do so. If he did, he might begin to lose the memories he had of his wonderful wife.

“We can look past the kiss,” Reagan assured him, interrupting his thoughts. “I know we’ve spoken about being friends. I told you I could use one. The truth is that I lost someone close to me. Just like you did.”

His gaze met hers, and Tucker saw pain reflected in her eyes.

“I want to be your friend because we’re what Aunt Jean might call kindred spirits,” she continued.

“Mind explaining?” he asked. “I’ve pretty much bared my soul to you.”

She swallowed. “I know. I wanted to tell you. When you told me about Josie. But… it’s hard, Tucker. You, above all people, should know that.”

Taking a deep breath, Reagan said, “I was engaged. To Archibald Coleridge. The fourth man to bear such a pompous name.”

Tucker chuckled. “Yeah. It does sound pretty pretentious.”

“Arch wasn’t like that at all,” she shared. “He was funny. The smartest person I’d ever met. An attorney. Not the slick type that comes to mind, but one who is caring and passionate about his clients and seeing justice occur.” She paused, a wistful look crossing her face. “He made me laugh. He drew me out of my shell and made me try things I never would have done in a thousand years.”

Reagan fell silent, lost in her memories. Tucker knew enough about grief to keep quiet and let her ride it out.

“He was killed a week before our wedding took place.”

Her words hit him out of the blue. Just like Josie had been snatched from him in an instant, Reagan’s fiancé had also left her life abruptly. While he didn’t know how— and wouldn’t ask —Tucker knew the suddenness of the event had scarred her as deeply as Josie’s death had affected him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I appreciate hearing that.” She licked her lips, drawing his attention to them.

He wanted to kiss her. Badly.

And that would be the worst thing to do. For both of them. Tucker forced his thoughts away from that and focused his attention on what Reagan would reveal next.

“I keep thinking if he’d been sick and then died, I would have had time to adjust to the idea of him being gone,” she said, frustration in her voice. “I didn’t know when I said goodbye to him that it was the final time I’d see him. How could I know it was our last kiss? I kept going over and over things in my head. For months. Would I have done or said anything differently? Squeezed more out of those moments?”

She was right. At least he’d been with Josie when the truck slammed into them. Despite being helpless and not having a way to save his wife, they had been together when tragedy struck.

Tucker still hadn’t touched Reagan. He wanted to, but now he knew she’d probably feel disloyal to Arch if he did so.

Instead, he asked, “What happened?” He wanted to be her friend now because if anyone looked like they could use one, it was Reagan Bradley.

Suddenly, storm clouds appeared in her brown eyes, darkening them almost to black.

“He was murdered.” Anger spilled from her. “Arch was mugged. From what the police put together, it was a junkie who needed money for a quick fix. It wasn’t enough to rob Arch. No, the bastard had to take his life.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Without thinking, Tucker leaned over, his hands framing her face, his thumbs wiping them away.

“You’re okay,” he said gently, letting his hands fall, wishing he could take her in his arms and hold her. “It’s okay to be mad. Frustrated. It’s a part of it,” he assured her.

“Yes, I’m mad. And the thing is, I’m just as mad at Arch as I am the guy they caught. It’s hard to admit that. Even two years later, these feelings will suddenly bubble up inside me, upsetting me all over again.”

He nodded. “I can see that. I was furious at the guy who smashed into us. Wanted to kill him on the spot. But I also had a little anger directed at Josie. I was pissed that she had died. That she had left me behind to face life without her.”

Reagan shook her head. “Mine is petty anger,” she revealed. “Yes, I was glad they caught the guy who murdered Arch. He was found guilty and sent to prison. But I also know how stubborn Arch could be. He attached importance to material things sometimes. Not only did the robber take Arch’s wallet, he also stole his watch. It was a family watch, handed down from generation to generation.”

Suddenly, she pushed to her feet and was off the rock, pacing.

“I can hear him now. He would never have been parted from that stupid watch. I don’t care if it was in his family for years. I know Arch’s refusal to hand it over was what made the guy kill him. Or maybe they tussled over it, and Arch was accidentally killed. The thing is, Tucker, I’ve stayed mad at Arch for the last two years. He left me. Left me. We were supposed to be married. Start a brand-new life together. Be with each other for fifty years or more. Have kids. Grandkids. Travel. Work. Then retire together. And he’s gone from me forever, all because he refused to give up some watch. If he had, he would still be alive. I wouldn’t be here at Aunt Jean’s in Texas. I’d be married. I’d be with my best friend and the man I thought I’d love until my dying day.”

She sniffed. “It’s like I can’t move on. I’m stuck. I can’t go forward or backward.”

Tucker slid off the rock. This time he acted on his intuition, bringing his arms around her and pulling her to him. She clung to him, her face buried against his chest. He could feel the hot tears through his flannel shirt.

“Cry it out,” he urged.

After a few minutes, she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I understand you a lot better now, Reagan. I hope you also understand me. We both lost the most important person in the world to us. Their deaths changed the trajectory of our lives.”

“I want the anger to subside,” Reagan said. “I want to be whole again and not feel like half of me is gone and can never be replaced.”

“I think sharing what we’ve gone through with one another is a start,” Tucker said firmly. “Being in a different place will also help. We can clear our heads. Get out of the rut we’ve been stuck in. Find something worthwhile to do.” He hesitated. “And maybe someday, we’ll even open our hearts to love again.”

“I hope so,” she said sincerely.

“Let’s head back,” he suggested.

He didn’t take her hand, but he knew something had changed between them. They were going to be more than friends. Whether or not love grew between them was something far down the road. But they had opened up to each other and shared the darkest parts of their souls with one another. He thought it had to help jumpstart their healing.

They reached the inn, and Reagan paused before opening the front door.

“I really trust you, Tucker. I can’t say I feel that way about anyone other than Aunt Jean. But I do feel as if some of my burden has been lifted by sharing my story with you.”

“I feel the same,” he seconded. “And now we’re in Lost Creek, we have a chance for a new start. That includes making friends.”

“I already like everyone who was at dinner last night. They were very welcoming.”

“Last night was a good start for us.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s promise to take one day at a time, Caramel.”

She smiled, a smile that tugged on his heart. “Agreed, Cowboy.”

They entered the house, and he glanced at the grandfather clock which stood in the foyer. “Emerson should be here in about forty-five minutes.”

“I’m going to blow my nose and wash my face,” she said. “I hope by the time Emerson arrives that I look human again.”

“See you then.”

Tucker watched her head up the stairs before turning around and heading back to the porch, which was rapidly becoming his thinking spot.

It startled him when Miss Jean said, “Reagan’s in a world of hurt.”

He faced the innkeeper. “She’s not the only one. But I think we can help one another, Miss Jean.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

As he returned to his favorite rocker, Tucker was determined to bounce back from Josie’s death.

And resolved that he would help Reagan Bradley do the same.

Emerson picked them up from the B&B. She dropped Tucker off to spend time with Braden, and then she drove straight to the events center. Reagan was impressed at the size of the facility and the professional kitchen Emerson used in her baking.

“I bake all the cakes for weddings and other events held here at the venue. I also stop by The Bake House and pick up any requests for special orders. I usually bake those cakes here, as well. I can keep an eye on them while I get other work done.”

She showed Reagan her office and then called up her website.

“You are incredibly creative,” Reagan praised. “I’ve never seen designs such as these.”

“I can do anything in a traditional style, but I also like to experiment. I have each couple come in for a meeting, and we talk about them. Their personalities. Their lifestyles. What they enjoy doing together. I gather that information and then use it in designing the wedding and groom’s cakes. At that time, I also have them give me ideas of the flavors they both enjoy. We also look at various styles of icing. Then they return a second time.”

“I assume they taste samples then?” she asked.

“Yes. I bake small cakes, much like individual pizzas you can order. We slice into them so they can taste and compare. Most couples decide what they want served at their reception at that point. A few are still hesitant to commit, so I have them take the samples home with them. I encourage them to allow those close to them to taste and give their opinions.” Emerson paused. “I remind them, though, that in the end it’s their choice. They can solicit input from others, but they should choose what will make them happiest.”

Emerson then showed Reagan where Ry set up when he was catering events.

“He has a smoker behind the event center, as well as one in town. That one he uses to stock his food truck, which he takes around Lost Creek for lunch every weekday and also out on Saturdays. The smoker at the winery is used exclusively for events at this venue.”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” she remarked.

“Ry has never shied away from hard work. He was in the military for a dozen years, and the discipline instilled in him has carried over to his civilian life.”

“I would have thought his dad would’ve catered events here since he has a large restaurant.”

Emerson laughed. “Oh, Shy used to. But that’s a story for another day. For now, Ry does about eighty percent of the catering for Weddings with Hart. I’m even learning my way around a smoker. The business is really growing. Though I pinch hit every now and then, it’s getting to the point where he’s going to need to hire some help, or else he’ll be drowning.”

“Maybe Tucker would be interested,” Reagan said, knowing her new friend would have to find a way to support himself while he tried to reignite his songwriting career.

“Ry and I talked about that very thing,” Emerson shared. “We don’t want to rush Tucker or put any unneeded pressure on him. Tucker did help out with a lunch service the day he arrived. Ry said his cousin picked up quickly on things. If Tucker wants a job, Ry is ready to offer it to him.”

“Would you mind if I mention that to him?” she asked. “We’ve become friends in a short period. We’ve had… some similar experiences. It’s really helped us to bond with one another.”

“Please do,” Emerson encouraged. “But don’t make him feel obligated. I know that’s a fine line to dance upon.”

“I’ll be diplomatic,” she guaranteed. “Besides, if Tucker doesn’t want to help out, who knows? I might for a little while.”

“Really? That would be terrific. Do you have a background in food service?”

Not ready to go into her past history, Reagan merely said, “I was in finance. But I catch on quickly. I’m taking some time off while I’m in Lost Creek. Deciding my next career move. I’d be happy to help out on a temporary basis if Ry needs my help.”

Emerson put some cakes on to bake, walking Reagan through the various steps as she mixed the batter and placed it into baking pans of various sizes. While those baked, she received a tour of the event center, from the rooms where the bride and groom got ready with their attendants to the storage room. It housed various sets of china, tablecloths, glassware, silverware, and a variety of centerpieces.

Reagan loved where weddings took place, with a couple standing before a glass wall that looked out over the Lost Creek vineyards. It made for a spectacular setting. She also saw where the receptions occurred and where Dax set up, either as a DJ or with his band, the Lone Star Rebels.

By then, it was time to take out the cakes and place them on racks to cool. Emerson said she usually baked Saturday wedding and groom’s cakes on Thursdays and iced and decorated them on Fridays. Friday cakes mirrored that schedule but were a day earlier. The center was also starting to hold a few events on Sunday afternoons though Emerson said Harper hadn’t put any Sundays on the calendar from next week through the end of the year.

“Because of the baby,” Emerson explained. “Harper will be on maternity leave. She wanted a break on Sundays for the weeks leading up to the delivery and the weeks after.”

“Who will take over for her when the time comes?” Reagan asked, curious about how things would continue to run.

“Oh, she has two amazing assistants, Paula and Dayna. Things will be fine. They’ve been with Harper from the beginning. She also has people who come in to bartend and clean up.”

Emerson’s cell sounded. She pulled it out and read the text message.

“Harper has some open time now for you to come see her office. I’ll drop you there and then come back here to finish up some work.”

Reagan was impressed with how organized Harper was. As her new friend led her through the offices and conference room, she voiced that opinion.

“Thank you. I’ve always been more than a little Type A,” Harper admitted. “To me, it just makes sense having everything in a fashion so it’s easy to find. Even as a kid, I put everything back in its place.” She laughed. “Ivy, on the other hand, reminded me of Pig-Pen from the Peanuts comics when we were growing up. Her stuff was everywhere. She was a swirling mess.”

“I guess it was her artist’s temperament,” Reagan said.

“Maybe. She’s changed a lot. Got her act together in college. Then she worked in a Houston art gallery for several years as its assistant manager. She was the manager except in name only. Did all her boss’s work, while he took the credit. She asked me for a few tips on how to organize things at work. I provided them. Now, you should see her studio. Ivy is as disciplined as Ry or me.”

“I’m eager to see her work.”

They returned to Harper’s office, where Reagan asked dozens of questions. Harper was willing to share how she managed the office and was patient explaining everything to Reagan.

“No one has ever taken this much an interest in what I do or how I do it,” Harper said. “You’ve asked me more questions than my assistants.”

“I hope I didn’t come off as too nosy,” she apologized.

“Not at all. In fact, I might have a proposition for you. While I’m on maternity leave, Paula and Dayna could probably use another set of hands. Would you be willing to work for Weddings with Hart for a few weeks? I don’t know what your plans are or how long you’ll be in Lost Creek, but I already like you a lot, Reagan. It would be terrific to have you here temporarily.”

“When would you need me?” she asked, intrigued by the idea.

Harper rubbed her belly. “Well, it will depend upon when Beau decides to make his arrival in the world. Actually, if I had you here, I might take off a week before my due date. Just put my feet up and relax.”

“Could you really do that?” she asked. “I’m sensing we’re pretty much alike when it comes to work.”

Harper laughed. “I can’t recall when I’ve ever done that. I’m due November fifteenth. I plan to take off the rest of the year and then come back in January. That would keep you here through the holidays.”

The thought appealed to her greatly. She had nowhere to go and would love to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Aunt Jean. Plus, it would be something fun and interesting to keep her busy while she decided what she wanted to do for a living.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “And mind you, I’m never impulsive. But this just feels right.”

“I hear you,” Harper said, hugging her. “Thank you so much, Reagan. I’m relieved to know you’ll be here to help out. I’m a worrier by nature, and as much as I cannot wait to meet Beau, I have worried about Weddings with Hart, my first baby. Let me think about how I’m going to divvy up duties. Paula will nominally be in charge. She knows to run most decisions by me, though. Give me a couple of days, then we can all meet, and I’ll go over who will be responsible for what.”

Harper consulted her calendar. “How does Monday look for you?”

Reagan grinned. “Wide open.”

“Then let’s meet here at my office at ten Monday morning. I’ll have coffee and pick up some pastries from The Bake House.” Harper glanced at her watch. “Oh, we need to get you over to Braden. He wants to show you all about the winemaking process before you and Tucker go for your tasting with Ivy.”

Harper texted Braden, who said he and Tucker would be over in the golf cart to pick up Reagan.

“Braden had us buy a cart a few months ago. I thought it was a silly idea at first, but it’s really come in handy.”

Reagan looked forward to the rest of the day. Of becoming a part of Weddings with Hart, if only for a limited time.

And what she really couldn’t wait was to see Tucker Young again and share her news that she would be staying in Lost Creek until the new year.