Her way of saying, maybe, that he shouldn’t be too hard on his father.
Maybe, but Gabe wasn’t going there.
Talk of peach pie had made him hungry, and he was certain that however many brownies Felicity had eaten that morning, she couldn’t possibly have eaten them all and still had room for one of Smith’s turkey clubs. A brownie, a walk down to the river...and maybe a dip in their swimming hole.
Nine
Felicity was relieved Olivia looked as well as she did. After getting a better sense of the space for the post–boot camp party tomorrow, they wandered in the well-established flower and herb gardens behind Olivia’s antique house—the one that had helped bring her and Dylan together. The gentle buzz of bumblebees hovering in catmint and lavender highlighted the quiet and stillness of the warm afternoon out here on the edge of the Quabbin wilderness. Even the birds seemed to be off for naps.
“Thank you for yesterday,” Olivia said, not for the first time.
“No problem.”
She pointed at a clear-glass pitcher on the table on the stone terrace. “I now keep water at hand at all times. Sorry if I scared you. I’m glad you were there, though.”
Felicity ran a palm over the tops of the lavender. “I’m glad I was, too.”
Olivia patted her middle, swelling under her deep-blue T-shirt. “I have a ways to go, but I’m more than halfway there. It’ll be cool weather when the baby comes. My mother is knitting a sweater and booties. I’d forgotten she knew how to knit.”
“Did you learn to knit?”
“I did, but it never took. I always liked the colors and patterns better than the knitting-and-purling. What about you?”
“My mother got into quilting for a while. I learned to knit on my own in college. Maybe I should find a knitting project this winter for quiet, cold nights out on the river.” Felicity smiled. “I wouldn’t count on me finishing booties before the baby outgrew them.”
“My mother’s waiting a few more weeks before she starts anything for Jess—she doesn’t want to jinx her.” Olivia paused, bending slightly to pinch faded yellow daisy blossoms. “Mom’s much better, but having two pregnant daughters has roiled the anxiety waters. She says she’ll be fine. She’s looking forward to being a grandmother.”
Felicity remembered when Olivia and Jess were in a car accident in high school. Trapped but not badly injured, they’d gone missing for several hours. Their mother had developed an anxiety disorder that had worsened over the years, until she could barely leave town. She’d finally sought therapy and now was off on trips with her husband, planning new ones. Everyone in town was thrilled for both of them.
“What about your dad?” Felicity asked.
“Can’t wait to be a grandfather. He and Dylan are making plans to paint the nursery.”
Felicity wasn’t surprised Dylan would want to paint his baby’s nursery himself, with his father-in-law’s help. His own father wasn’t around any longer, but she had a feeling he was with Dylan in spirit. As dramatic as the turns in their lives since meeting early last year, he and Olivia were grounded, tackling their new ventures a step at a time and—most important and very obvious—clearly as madly in love with each other as ever. Felicity breathed in the fragrance of the summer garden. She’d never been madly in love. Well, sort of with Gabe, but that had been teenage hormones. Maybe she wasn’t wired to fall head over heels in love.
Not exactly what she wanted to be thinking while listening to bumblebees and enjoying a pleasant walk with a friend, but to be expected with Gabe in town, camped out across the hall from her. Why couldn’t she have found him less physically appealing these days? But no. That hadn’t happened. Not even close.
She and Olivia continued on a mulched path toward the stone terrace by the kitchen door. An addition to the house was in the works and would serve as a suite for a live-in innkeeper yet to be hired. Olivia’s original, modest plans for her antique house had expanded without getting out of hand, at least as she’d explained to Felicity. With the promise of favorable weather, guests at Gabe’s post–boot camp party could meander out to the terrace and gardens. The logistics were simpler with the party being held here instead of at the barn, although Felicity could have managed at the barn. She’d managed far more complex events. She liked the contrast between the barn’s newness—even the grass looked new—and the Farm at Carriage Hill’s centuries-old house with its wide pine board flooring, multiple fireplaces off its center chimney and beautiful landscaping.
“Anything else you need ahead of tomorrow?” Olivia asked.
“All set, thanks.”
“You look so calm, cool and collected.”
Felicity laughed. “Do I? I feel more like the old saying about the duck who looks calm on the surface but is paddling like crazy under the water.”
“I can identify, except I doubt anyone’s ever said I look calm.”
They stepped onto the terrace, passing Buster sprawled in the shade, and went through a tidy mudroom to the big, country kitchen, located in one of the “newer” parts of the house. Felicity noticed sprigs of fresh basil on the butcher-block island. “Did I catch you in the middle of making something?” she asked Olivia.
“I had optimistic plans to make pesto. Now the thought of pesto...” She grimaced, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’ll throw some on some mozzarella and tomatoes with a little salt, pepper and olive oil. I have way more than I need. You like basil, don’t you? Take some with you.”
“I’d love to. I have a few chives in my kitchen window.”
“Gabe mentioned you’d snipped a few chives into his eggs this morning. I imagine he’s not your average houseguest. It’s decent of you to put him up for the weekend. Dylan invited him to speak at the last minute, but it’s not as if Knights Bridge is overflowing with hotels and inns.”
“He’s an easy guest,” Felicity said.
“Mark and
