I glanced at Murphy and noticed that her eyes looked a little glazed over as I rambled on. “I know. This is boring.”
Another throaty laugh came from her. “No, I was just thinking. Brenna came to see me and told me she needed you to back off and let her be a parent to Branson. She encouraged me to get you back because you needed to have your own life and let her live hers. She never mentioned New York, but she forced me right back into your arms.”
“My sister might not have graduated from college, but no one ever said she wasn’t smart,” I said with a chuckle.
“You can say that again,” Murphy said, stealing a glance at me. “I need to finish up with Hunnie, though. I can’t leave her stranded.”
“You can still help her. Don’t worry—we’ll come back to visit. We’ll need a break from all the New York craziness. I don’t want you to give up anything you want.”
“Are you ready for all of that?” she asked, and I reached over to squeeze her knee.
“With you, I’m ready for anything, Murph.”
“And Zara, I guess she knew the Bean was never a permanent thing for me, but I’m going to miss her. Roddy will have a bunch of shifts to cover until they find someone.”
“Speaking of, we’re going to have to get a real espresso machine for our place so you can make me an Americano occasionally.”
“And I’ll have to get a tip jar,” she said with a giggle.
When we got to the restaurant, I ran inside and picked up the food. By the time I got back into the car, Murphy was playing Ed Sheeran.
“My turn to pick the music,” she said, and I just grinned.
As I turned back onto the road, Andrea Bocelli joined in with Sheeran, and I couldn’t help but give her a huge smile. “You found a mix combining something for both of us.”
“That’s life, Ben,” she said while tickling my arm. “You’re from one place and I’m from another, and together we make a new mash-up.”
I nodded. “Speaking of where I’m from and Brenna, I do want to talk to her about taking on an ownership role at our parents’ farm. They’re getting old, and she knows the sap business better than anyone. I don’t plan to inherit the farm, but it should be there for Branson if he ever wants it. And with Hunnie running all these joint ventures, it’s a good way for Brenna to get reconnected and be a part of something new and exciting. Branson can help her and stay out of trouble.” I glanced over at Murphy. “Maybe you’ll back me up now that you two are so close?”
“Oh yeah,” Murphy said, grinning. “With her little manipulation, we’re real close.” Then she added, “By the way, did you know there’s something going on with her and Scott?”
“Stevens?” I asked.
“The one and only. So, yeah, I’m going to insert myself in this whole maple-syrup business discussion, but with a side of Scott talk.”
“Oh boy.”
We laughed all the way home about the scare tactics Murphy planned to use on Brenna.
When we got back, we set the food on the kitchen counter and made it as far as the hallway before letting the food get cold.
34
EPILOGUE
Murphy
“Close your eyes,” Ben called out as he opened the door, and I smiled. He was always up to something.
“Don’t let all the leaves in,” I shouted back. It was early October, and I swore every day, a few hundred new leaves collected in our tiny foyer, blowing in from the yard.
“A few won’t hurt,” Ben called back, and I chuckled. He was always teasing it was Vermont’s revenge on Brooklyn . . . the endless foliage with nowhere to go but inside.
I was sitting at the dining table, finding it hard to concentrate on my latest social media client. A family-run chain of counter-service hummus-based restaurants had hired me after checking out my portfolio of work for Hunnie and Gigi. They liked how I’d infused a family-type feeling to all of the posts I’d done for Hunnie and Gigi, a feeling they felt was essential to community building.
Instead of making notes on my future client, I was staring at my wedding band, so I did what Ben had asked and closed my eyes.
A year ago, Ben and I got married at city hall, just the two of us, and then had dinner in an all-night diner. For old times’ sake, we had breakfast for dinner and brought our own bottle of Vermont maple syrup like real Vermonters. We also used another bottle of syrup at home to commemorate the day . . . and then we woke up and dealt with the wrath of Brenna, Hunnie, Gigi, and Zara.
Of course, we gave in to their demands to celebrate our wedding with us, so a month and a half later, we came home and threw a big private party at the Bean. Zara closed down for us and Roderick manned a makeshift bar—with some recipes from friends of his up at Vinos & Veritas in Burlington. Gigi made me a cupcake cake, and this time I actually got to eat it. Hunnie made straws of a special-edition rose-petal honey. The straws had been the last project we’d finished before I left Vermont. We’d found a manufacturer for the straws, and now they were sold all over Vermont in little gift shops and boutiques, not to mention a few places outside the state that had
