More pots clanged in the kitchen, shaking Libby’s thoughts away from her phone. “Sierra, if that’s not you, I’m calling the cops.”
“What thief would make coffee and scramble eggs for you?”
“Good point.” Libby’s oversize T-shirt brushed her legs just above her knees as she picked up the wineglass and carried it into the kitchen.
Libby found Sierra standing in front of the stove, which dated back to the 1950s. Her parents had never had cause to replace the appliance, because it worked just fine. That mind-set also explained the refrigerator from the Reagan years and the dishwasher purchased right before Y2K. If her dad had thought she was going to sell the house, he had not gotten the memo stating that kitchens and bathrooms were key to a successful sale.
Sierra’s black pencil pants, polka-dot blouse with an exaggerated white collar, and round red earrings created an I Love Lucy vibe that meshed with the kitchen.
“Get a lot of work done?” Sierra cracked an egg with one hand as she reached for another.
“I did. It’s going to be a crazy week ahead, so I decided to knock out the look book for Ginger and Cameron. I’ve got to say, there are some pretty magical moments with the two of them laughing in the rain.”
“Sounds like a musical.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you taking any kind of break?” Sierra asked.
“I will as soon as I get through June and the first week of July. Next wedding won’t be until September.”
“Good. You could use the time off.” She poured Libby a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
Libby took a sip and then pressed the warm cup to her temple. “Bless you.”
Sierra dug aspirin from the cupboard and put the bottle in front of her. “I won’t ask about the two empty wine bottles in the trash.”
“They were both half-full and from the wedding. Your boss gave them to me.”
Sierra picked up her coffee. “He shouldn’t do that, but he does in order to not deal with the bottles.”
“Lucky me. What time did you finally get out of there?”
“We finished the cleanup about six. Rick gave me a ride home. I came by but didn’t see you.”
“I went for a drive.” Meandering down the long roads had felt a little less pointless than coming home and staring at the walls.
“At the reception, I was caught up with serving cake and didn’t get the chance to ask you, but did I see Jeremy at the wedding?”
“You did.” She took another sip. “In a nutshell, he came to tell me he’s getting married. Also turns out he and his soon-to-be wife are having a baby. In a few weeks.”
“Libby.” Sierra dragged out her name, etching sadness and anger into each syllable.
“Don’t do that voice. And don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. Those bottles were more than half-full, and you didn’t step outside yesterday. I thought you were tired, so I left you alone. But now I can see you were mourning.”
“I was not mourning. I’m a workaholic. You said yourself my energy is totally out of balance and too focused on work.”
“Why did he come to the wedding?”
“He was looking for me. He wanted to have this conversation with me in person, but I think he also wanted a public meeting so things didn’t go sideways.”
“It couldn’t have waited until you were finished shooting the wedding?”
“Guess not.”
“Well, old Jeremy just dumped a truckload of manure on your head, and I think that stinks.”
“I have to respect that he told me in person.”
Sierra tapped a red manicured finger against the side of her stoneware mug. “There are days when I rail at the universe for taking Adam from me. If I get really on a roll, I console myself with the idea that at least I’ll never have to see him with another woman. Selfish, but knowing we are both alone always does the trick for me. I don’t know what I’d do if he had married another woman.”
Libby washed down two aspirin with a gulp of coffee. “We got a divorce for a reason. And if your husband found another woman a tad too quickly, you would drink and work too much like me.”
“Too much of either is not good for you.”
“Like I said, I’m taking a break soon, and I can’t blame Jeremy. I left him. He’s not a bad guy.”
“Then why do I want to punch him in the nose?”
“What would you have him do? Send a text?”
“It’s what any self-respecting millennial male would have done.”
Libby smiled. “Not him. He’s not the bad guy.”
The eggs sizzled in the pan, pulling Sierra’s attention back to cooking.
“I met Elaine Grant at the wedding,” Libby said.
“What did she want?” Sierra lifted the edges of the egg so the uncooked middle could reach the pan.
“She’s talking about creating a website for the Woodmont Estate. She’s going to need a photographer.”
“And you might get the job?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you imagine if Woodmont opened for big events? It would drive all kinds of business into Bluestone.”
Libby made a mental note to take her laptop so she could show Elaine the shots from the wedding. She’d sent Ginger her link to her look book but was not sure if the honeymooning bride had passed it on. “It would be great for everyone in a fifty-mile radius.” She took a long sip of coffee, thinking it serendipitous that Ginger had found her own website. “What’s with the 1950s look?”
Her gaze sharpening, Sierra said, “I’m meeting with the bank today.”
“Ah, you’re going through with the loan to buy the old mercantile store in town.” The space had started as a mercantile store in the 1920s, and when the owner had died, the property had been passed through the family, becoming a hardware store at one point and an antique store in recent years until it had closed for good.
Sierra dished out eggs on two plates already decorated with freshly sliced fruit. “I went by the mercantile store yesterday. It has so much potential. Great bones.”
“What will it cost to buy and renovate?”
“A lot. Hence the loan. I have enough from Adam’s life insurance to pay for most of the building, but I’ll need bank money for working capital.”
“Reno is always more than you think. Whatever the contractor quotes, add fifty percent.”
“I’m trying to be positive here,” Sierra said. “I need to make this work.”
Libby pushed her scrambled eggs around her plate. She did not need to ask Sierra why she needed this project. Like her, Sierra found it easier to work than mourn. “Call me after your meeting. One way or another, I’ll help you figure it out.”
Libby arrived at Woodmont at five minutes to eleven. The sky was a vivid blue, and there was not a trace of rain in the forecast.
Libby turned off the paved road onto the long gravel driveway that led to the main house. Slowing as she approached, she took time to enjoy the view unburdened with worry about weather, time, and wedding logistics.
In the field to her left there was no sign of the freshly rolled green hay, which no doubt Colton had transferred to the barn before the rains. Shorn sheep grazed in the north field, and beyond them she could see the gentle bend in the James River.