“Yes, ma’am.”

“And while you’re at it, tell me all about yourself.”

Throughout dinner prep and dinner itself, Frank’s family asked Violet every question under the sun, and for the most part she answered them with humor and honesty. Anytime they asked something specific about her family, she redirected the conversation back to Frank and his brothers, their work on the force, or what recipe Glenda used for the chicken. She did it so gracefully, the rest of his family didn’t notice, but Frank did.

After driving her home that night, he parked in her driveway and pulled a small velvet box from the glove compartment. Violet’s breath caught when she saw it. “Frank?” Her voice held mild panic.

“Just open it.” He set the box in her hand.

She lifted the lid. “Ohh,” was all she could manage.

In the overhead light the little gold bracelet gleamed. Birds were engraved all around it, along with leaves, branches, and tiny berries.

“It reminded me of you.” He took it from her hands and clasped it around her left wrist.

“It’s the most perfect thing you could have given me.” Her voice was hushed, reverent.

“I’d like to one day give you something that means a little more, but I figure this will tide us over until then.”

She rotated her wrist, seeing the bracelet from all sides, then looked up at him. “Thank you. I’ll wear it all the time.”

They’d only known each other a few months, but already he knew he didn’t want anyone else. He’d marry her right now if he could. It was like she’d changed the arrangement of his cells or the pattern of his brain waves—she’d etched herself into his mind and heart so indelibly, he couldn’t imagine spending his life in any other way except by her side. He didn’t know everything there was to know about Violet. Parts of her were still a mystery, but he was okay with that. If there were things she felt she still needed to keep close to her chest, he wouldn’t pry. He’d be patient, and when she was ready to tell him, he’d be ready to listen.

Eleven

“River Days Art Festival,” read the sign stretched across Water Street between two light poles. “Art, food, and music—meet us at the river!” As Maya parked on the street in front of Two Sisters, she remembered the flyer she’d seen on the gas station door three months ago, the flyer about the art festival that had caused her to point her car in the direction of Sugar Bend. Actually it wasn’t the flyer so much as the dreams it had stirred up. Dreams, sensations, memories, she still wasn’t sure what to call what she’d seen in her mind, but she’d been following that scent of belonging ever since.

An older gentleman strolled down the sidewalk in front of the shops with a small dog on a leash, and two ladies came out of the bakery a few doors down with sugar-smudged paper bags in their hands. Maya loved early mornings in Sugar Bend before the stores opened, when the dew was still fresh and the day’s heat hadn’t set in quite yet. Violet had told her yesterday that a shipment of cookbooks from local chefs was scheduled to be delivered before the shop opened, and Maya had offered to come in early so Violet wouldn’t have to.