Chapter 27

27

T ucker’s first call was to Ry.

When his cousin picked up, he said, “I won’t be able to cater the wedding with you tonight. I just found Miss Jean. She’s dead, Ry.”

Ry whistled low. “Oh, this is going to kill Reagan.”

“I know. She’s at the event center now. I need to go get her and share the bad news, then bring her home so she can say her last goodbyes.”

“Mom and Dad have always told me they’ll help out in a pinch. Since tonight’s wedding is on the small side, I’m going to call them to take over for us. Emerson and I will come be with you. Help you get through this.”

Emotion swelled within him. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that, Ry.”

“I’ll call Emerson now and give her a heads up. She’ll be waiting in the wings whenever you need her.”

“I don’t know the first thing about what needs to be done,” Tucker admitted. “Who to call. What Miss Jean might’ve wanted.”

“We’ll get that all figured out, Tucker. Together.”

He ended the call and looked down at the sweet, feisty lady who had so warmly welcomed and accepted him upon his arrival in Lost Creek. Tucker bent and brushed a kiss upon her brow and then turned off the TV. Gently, he closed the door, wondering what her death would mean for Reagan.

Tucker drove to Lost Creek Vineyards, heading straight to the event center, where he saw Reagan’s car parked in back. Most likely, she would be in no shape to drive. Emerson could follow them home in Reagan’s car.

He cut through the kitchen door, seeing Emerson pacing.

She came to Tucker, enfolding him in an embrace. “I just talked with Ry. I’m so sorry for your loss, Tucker. Miss Jean was the best.” She released him. “I’ll be in my office. Ready for whenever you need me.”

Stepping from the kitchen, Tucker looked over the event center, seeing Regan in conversation with Paula. She spied him and waved, excusing herself and heading his way. He drank in her beauty, thinking how happy she looked.

And how he was about to crush her spirits.

“You’re certainly here early,” she said. “Emerson told me Ry wouldn’t get here until around four. Is something up?”

He threaded his fingers through hers. “Let’s go talk. In private.”

Tucker led her back into the deserted kitchen and faced her.

Alarm filled her eyes. “Tucker, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

Swallowing, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “There’s no easy way to say this, Reagan, so I’m just going to say it. Miss Jean… is gone.”

Confusion clouded her eyes. “Gone? She didn’t tell me she was…” Her voice trailed off. Her body stiffened beneath his fingers.

She had figured out her aunt was dead.

“No,” she wailed, the cry of anguish like a knife to his heart.

Tucker wrapped her tightly in his arms, her own going around him, clinging to him.

“She was fine,” Reagan insisted. “Fine. She cooked for all those people yesterday.”

Then the sobs came, harrowing ones which racked her body and his. He let her cry it out, kissing her hair, making soothing noises.

She lifted her tear-stained face. “How?”

“I wanted to talk to her about something,” he began. “When I couldn’t find her downstairs, I tapped on her bedroom door. The TV was playing, and I thought she might not have heard me, so I slowly opened the door.”

He paused, smoothing her hair. “She was in bed, Reagan. Propped up on her pillows. A sweet smile on her face. It’s obvious she didn’t suffer.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do. There’s so much to do,” she said, sounding lost.

“I’m here for you.” He glanced over her shoulder and saw Emerson had emerged from her office. “Emerson and Ry are going to help us get through this.”

“The wedding,” she said dully. “Harper. I can’t let her down.”

Emerson came toward them and slipped her hand around Reagan’s. “You know tonight’s wedding is a small one. Paula and Dayna can easily handle it. Same for the anniversary party tomorrow. It’s a low-key affair. Let me go tell Paula and Dayna that you won’t be able to participate this weekend. Give me your keys, and I’ll drive your car back to the B&B. You go with Tucker now.”

Reagan went to her purse and handed over her car key to Emerson. Tucker guided her from the kitchen to his truck as if she were a sleepwalker. They said nothing to one another on the drive home, but she never let go of his hand the entire ride.

By the time they reached The Inn at Lost Creek, Ry’s truck was sitting out front. He opened the passenger door and helped Reagan out, hugging her to him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Reagan,” he said gently. “Miss Jean was a stalwart in the community and one of the finest women I’ve ever known.”

She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you, Ry. Thanks for coming. For being here.”

They entered the house, and Reagan stood in the foyer, frozen.

“Do you want me to go with you to see her?” Tucker asked quietly.

Nodding, she found his fingers, and they went hand-in-hand back to Miss Jean’s bedroom. He opened the door and guided her inside. Reagan broke away from him and headed toward the bed, where Tucker joined her, standing a few feet away.

“You’re right,” she said. “She looks… so peaceful. As if she hasn’t a care in the world.”

Turning, she looked at him, tears misting her eyes. “I feel so guilty, Tucker. She worked so hard the last few days, feeding an army of people. What if that’s what did her in?”

He slipped his arm about her waist. “I don’t think preparing one meal is what ended her, babe. Miss Jean was a giver. A lover of others. She loved every minute of preparing that Thanksgiving meal for friends and family. I think it was just her time to go. On her terms. She wouldn’t have been one who would have wanted to linger in a sickbed for years. Jean Bradley did things her way, even in death.”

“I wish I could’ve talked with her one more time. She was so wise, Tucker. She’s been the one constant in my life all these years. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

Reagan began crying softly again, and he pulled her to him, comforting her the best he could.

Finally, she pulled away, placing her palm against her aunt’s cheek. “You were a shining example, Aunt Jean. The way you lived your life, you led with your heart. Thank you for loving me always.”

She brushed her lips against her aunt’s brow. Turning to face Tucker, she said, “I’ve said my goodbyes. Now, we need to figure out what needs to be done. I know where she kept her important papers. She showed me once before. Any final wishes she has should be located in a manila folder.”

They left the room and returned downstairs. By now, Emerson had arrived and returned Regan’s keys to her.

“I’ve made some coffee,” Emerson told them. “Water for tea is also on to boil.”

“Thank you,” Reagan said, embracing her friend. “Thank you and Ry for being here for us.”

“Whatever you need,” Emerson said. “We want to help however we can.”

Ry said, “I talked to the sheriff to find out what should happen next. He said when you were ready, Reagan, give him a call. He’ll set the wheels in motion.”

“Let’s hold off on that for a couple of minutes,” Tucker said. “Reagan knows where Miss Jean kept her final wishes. We’ll look at those first.”

He followed Reagan into the small nook off the kitchen, which had a built-in desk. This was where Miss Jean had kept her business records and did her accounting. Reagan pulled out a folder. Labeled on the front it said, “ When I Kick the Bucket .” Both of them chuckled, and Tucker said, “Feisty until the end.”

They opened the folder and skimmed through its contents. Miss Jean had already paid for her own funeral services and plot. She had picked out the music to be played and said she wanted the service to be short and sweet, with a nice party after at Blackwood BBQ. Attached was a copy of her will, which she said had been filed with Merilee Swan.

“I can’t look at this now,” Reagan said, anguish filling her face. “I can only take things one step at a time. Right now, that means having Aunt Jean taken care of.”

Tucker closed the folder but took it with him as they returned to Ry and Emerson.

“You can call the sheriff now.” He shared with Ry the name of the funeral home where Miss Jean was to be taken to.

“I’ll get on it,” Ry reassured them.

“Come sit, Reagan,” Emerson said. “Have something hot to drink. I also found some cookies Miss Jean had baked. You need to eat something to keep up your strength.”

Through watery eyes, Reagan said, “Those were the last cookies we baked together.”

Emerson nodded calmly. “Then we’re going to freeze two of them. Just like a couple does a slice of their wedding cake. On the anniversary of Miss Jean’s death next year, you and Tucker are going to thaw and eat them to celebrate her life and your treasured memories of her.”

The baker wrapped the two cookies tightly in plastic wrap and then added a layer of foil around them. She slipped them into a freezer bag and sealed it tightly, finding a permanent marker and labeling the date on it.

Reagan and Emerson drank tea while Tucker poured coffee for him and Ry. By then, the county coroner had shown up, along with an ambulance. He gave his condolences to Reagan, calling Miss Jean the finest first citizen of Lost Creek.

Several minutes later, he returned downstairs as her body was being moved to the ambulance, saying, “Looks like natural causes to me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more contented soul in death.”

“Do you think she had a heart attack?” Reagan asked. “A stroke?”

“I think Miss Jean simply passed peacefully in her sleep,” the coroner assured her. “People who suffer don’t have that kind of smile on their face. Miss Jean was able to let go because she was happy. Because she knew you were happy.”

A single tear cascaded down Reagan’s cheek, and she wiped it away. “Thank you.”

Once they left, Ry said, “The funeral home would like to meet with you at your convenience, Reagan. Do you feel up to it now, or would you rather put it off until tomorrow morning?”

“Now. I want to get this part over with.”

Tucker said, “I’ll go with you.”

Emerson pulled her aside, “Would you like me to start contacting friends, Reagan?”

“Yes. That’s a good idea. I’ll know more once I’ve met with the funeral director and decided about the service, but you can let people know she’s passed.”

He opened the manila folder and pulled out a neatly penned list. “These are the people Miss Jean wanted to know.”

“I love how organized she was,” Reagan said, smiling through her tears.

It took less than an hour at the funeral home to confirm all of Jean Bradley’s final wishes. The funeral director looked over the calendar with Reagan, and they decided to hold the service at two o’clock on Tuesday afternoon in the chapel at the funeral home.

Tucker texted that information to Emerson so she could get the word out. By the time they reached the B&B, it was filled with their friends. Dax and Ivy. Holden and Finley. Wolf and Ana. Even Braden and Harper turned out, bringing a sleeping Beau.

Reagan went straight for the baby, lifting Beau in her arms, resting her cheek against his.

Harper slipped her hand through Tucker’s arm. “Life and death. They go hand in hand,” she said. “If ever there was a woman full of life, it was Miss Jean.” She gazed up at Tucker. “How is Reagan really doing?”

“As good as can be expected. I think part of her is a bit numb. It’s a lot to take in. Miss Jean was her only living relative.”

“You’re her family now, Tucker,” Harper said fiercely. “You— and all of us. We’ll make sure we take care of you both.”

Reagan’s gaze met Harper’s. “Thank you for saying that.” She glanced across the room. “Thank you all for being here. For me. For Tucker. For Aunt Jean.”

Handing Beau back to Harper, Reagan told those gathered, “Aunt Jean loved preparing Thanksgiving for us. It was her last act of kindness, one I’m sure we’ll all remember for years to come.” She paused, swallowing, and then said, “I will only mourn my aunt’s death for a short while because she was so full of life. I’m going to take all the wonderful memories I have of her and dedicate myself to being the kind of woman she was. The kind of woman I aspire to be on my journey through life.”

She looked to Tucker and held out her hand. He joined her, taking it, squeezing her fingers.

“This may sound crazy. Then again, I see a lot of love in this room, so I think you’ll understand. Aunt Jean had been on my case. Tucker’s, too. She was eager for us to get married, the sooner the better.

“And that’s what we’re going to do.”

Her words shocked him. “Reagan, we don’t have to rush things.”

“I lost Arch. You lost Josie. Both of us suffered tremendous pain and grieved deeply when they left our lives. If Aunt Jean taught me anything, it was to live in the now. Don’t waste precious time.”

Her gaze met his, her love for him pouring from her. “You are my light, Tucker. My home. You are the one I turn to in good times and bad. I need your love and support to get through this dark time, but Aunt Jean predicted many happy times ahead for the two of us. We’re going to praise her. Mourn her. Bury her. And then we’ll step into the next chapter of our lives. Together.”

Tucker drew Reagan into his arms, knowing their love would see them through this latest tragedy— and into a bright tomorrow.