expected to hear from her again since she’d turned him down for the chocolate tour. Once again, he wanted to punch Past-Liam in the face for leaving Viola waiting for him on the beach.
What had he been thinking? The problem was, he hadn’t been thinking. His mind had been so focused on work that he’d had no space for anything—or anyone—else in his thoughts. Since unplugging for real—he hadn’t checked a single work-related account or device since Viola chucked his phone down the vent at the theater—it felt like the sun had finally come out over a cloudy day. He was getting more and more glimmers of the lightness he’d felt while he was in Hawaii. The bands around his chest were loosening every moment, and for the first time, he was realizing how stressed and unhappy he’d been for the last few years.
Scaffolding starts Monday, she said.
Thanks for the heads up, he replied back.
Also, is it too late to take you up on that after-hours chocolate tour?
His heart skipped. No, the offer is still good.
Good, because my grandma near about kicked me to the curb when I told her I’d said no.
It was too much to hope that her grandma, who had never met him, was in any way rooting for him. Especially if Viola told her about Hawaii. She loves chocolate?
She thanks you, whole-heartedly, for the box of chocolates.
That made him laugh out loud. Would she like to come on the tour?
Three little dots appeared, and he waited for her response.
Oh my gosh. She said her plan was to tie me up and stash me in the closet so she could go with you herself, but just coming along is better overall.
She sounds fun.
Viola sent him an eye roll emoji, followed by a heart. Just let us know when.
Let me call and set it up, and I’ll message you.
He pulled up the chocolate shop’s website right away. Apparently their day-tours were booked out for the next month, and they didn’t do after-hours tours. After asking to speak with the owner—and offering to pay double everyone’s hourly pay if they stayed late—he had a time set up Friday evening.
Grandma’s excited, she replied when he sent her the time.
And you?
I’ll have my Hershey’s in my purse.
He laughed again. Even if he couldn’t win her over to artisan chocolate, he was glad for any excuse to spend time with her. And meet her grandma. Nerves swirled through him as he wondered what Viola’s grandma might think of him already.
✽✽✽
Callie and Xander gathered their dogs and headed back to their house, completely beat from a day of traveling. Callie was already missing Cole, but she said he was definitely thriving at his school, which made it a little easier to leave him there.
The house was quiet without the dogs. Liam itched to text Viola again but knew it was too soon. He didn’t want to be in her space, especially when he knew he was barely welcome in the little bit of space she’d allowed him to have.
After swimming a thousand meters, showering, and practicing a few of the meditation techniques the therapist had shown him, he was still struggling to fall asleep. Instead of fighting his body, he got up and turned on his computer.
All day, his mind had been on the history of the old theater. What in the world had possessed someone to up and leave it? And why the doll?
The purchase records showed that the theater had sold in December, almost twenty-five years ago. Liam went to a newspaper archive for Eureka Springs and bought a subscription so he could look up old editions.
An hour later, his diligence was rewarded in the obituary section.
Jenny (Tripp) Samuelson (32) and Lily Samuelson (9), daughter and grand-daughter of Marcus Tripp were killed in a plane wreck on New Year’s Day. Marcus Tripp, a frequent flier of his Cessna, was also in the crash, and is in the hospital in Little Rock. The funeral and interment will be held in Montgomery, Alabama, where Jenny lived with her husband. “They will be missed,” said, Marigold Nightingdale, a very close childhood friend of Jenny Tripp, thoughts which reflect most of the town. A quiet and reserved woman, Jenny loved updating the murals on the Old Grand walls when she came to visit. Her daughter, a budding artist herself, created many of the window displays the town loved. “The more color, the better, she used to say,” said Marigold Nightingdale.
Flowers and cards can be sent