“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’re leaving right now.”
“We?”
“I’m with Jackson. He knows the family holding the estate sale, so he was able to get us an early appointment. And an introduction to the owner.”
“Well, that’s just great. I hope your morning of shopping for things we probably don’t need is worth it.” And with that, she hangs up.
I blow out a breath. Avery’s hostility is a frustration I don’t need right now.
Especially since she’s been MIA lately because she’s taking the business of planning her own wedding on like it’s a second full-time job.
Which I understand. She wants it to be awesome, and we don’t have a mother who can help with any of those things, and Declan’s mom is pretty useless.
I step out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Jackson is leaning against the wall, thumbs flying across his phone screen. His gaze flicks up to me. “Everything okay?”
“I didn’t realize how late it was. I need to head back so I can help prepare for the event tonight.”
“Of course. I should’ve kept better track of the time.”
The only thing I have time to purchase from the estate sale are the teacups. It seems like a bit of a waste, especially since there were other things I would have liked to have laid claim to, but I’ve already been gone all morning. And we need to stick to a strict budget if we’re going to manage the kitchen expansion this fall, which isn’t going to be cheap.
I thank Harmon for the opportunity and tell him I hope I’ll see him at the Spark House event. Jackson has a brief conversation in low tones that make it impossible to hear what he’s saying, and then we’re off, heading back to Spark House.
I fire off a message to Harley to make sure she’s okay.
I’m fine. Pretty sure it’s [shark emoji] week for A tho [eyeroll]
I frown and send one back that reads:
She said you were in tears?
I get the laughing emoji in response and then suddenly my phone is ringing. “I’m so sorry, I need to take this.”
“Go right ahead. I’m aware I’ve monopolized more of your time than I should have on an event day.” He smiles, but there’s strain in it and maybe a hint of concern.
I answer the call from Harley. “Any tears I may have shed were a result of Avery dropping a chair on my freaking foot. She’s a gong show today. And if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny it with vehemence. I think Declan’s mom is causing problems with the wedding, and there was some kind of blowout last night.”
“Between her and Declan?” My fingers are at my lips. I drop my hand to my lap so I don’t start biting my nails.
“No, just his mom getting all involved and insisting that if his dad comes, he’s not allowed to bring wife number five or seven or whatever number he’s on. Which means Declan is stressed, and that in turn stresses Avery out. You know how it is. Especially with their history and his dad trading in the last wife or whatever. It’s kind of like its own soap opera. I think Ave is low on sleep and high on stress, and I also think Declan may have suggested eloping again.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Everything is under control here. It’s just Avery who isn’t at the moment. She’s having a day.”
“That seems to be more and more frequent lately.”
“I know. We need to find a way to convince her that it can’t be the three of us running things forever. Mom and Dad may have done it themselves, but Spark House wasn’t anything near what it is today. And we can’t wait until we have adult kids to help out before that happens. Unless we want to adopt a bunch of sixteen-year-olds with an interest in event hotel management.”
I can almost see Harley rubbing the space between her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just venting. It’s Avery, and you know how she gets.”
“I’m sorry I’m not there to help you run interference.” And I truly am. Harley is good at being a level head, but neither of us is particularly experienced with a flustered Avery.
“Eh, it’s fine. I gotta go, though, I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon.” I end the call with a sigh.
“Have I gotten you into trouble by taking you away for the morning?” Jackson’s brows pull together.
I don’t know how he manages to look even more attractive with a furrow, but he does. I want to run my thumb along the bridge of his nose to smooth it back out and watch it happen all over again.
“It’s fine. Everything is under control.” It’s a lie, but the last thing I need is Jackson realizing that Spark House isn’t a perfect utopia.