Page 73 of Must Love Libraries and Libations

Her father, wisely, had disappeared entirely into the depths of the garden and had not been seen since morning.

“Missus Windsong,” I replied with careful politeness, “I am honored by your interest, but I fear gargoyle customs would prove quite dull compared to the lovely traditions of Moonshine Hollow.”

“Oh, but surely?—”

“Mother,” Primrose interrupted firmly, “didn’t you say you wanted to help Portia with the window boxes?”

I caught Primrose’s eye and inclined my head slightly in gratitude.

She winked at me.

“Oh, yes!” Missus Windsong replied. “Where did that bookish girl go? She simply has no sense for home design. She was going with the wrong color paint,” Missus Windsong exclaimed, then hurried off.

“Five hundred and eleven years old, and I am hiding from my future mother-in-law,” I grumbled.

An amused huff came from the gutter nearby where Stevenson had made himself comfortable. He was supposed to be handing me nails, but, instead, he was eyeing the pixie Rosalyn who was setting out lunch at a table in the garden.

And he wasn’t the only one. Three tiny bookwyrms, Louisa May and Hawthorne’s recently hatched offspring, fluttered around Rosalyn, seeing what she had prepared.

“Why don’t you go supervise the hatchlings since you’re not helping me anyway,” I told Stevenson.

Stevenson responded with a happy trill, excited to get away from real work and closer to the food, and took off like a bolt of lightning.

I rolled my eyes.

Below, the organized chaos of cottage repair continued. Elder Theodonna had appointed herself head coordinator, despite having no apparent qualifications for the role beyond enthusiasm and a very loud voice.

“Granik, dear, those boards are for the east wall!” she called to the orc, who was carrying what appeared to be half a tree with the same ease most people managed a loaf of bread.

“Which way is east?” Granik called back, looking genuinely confused.

“That way!” three different people shouted, pointing in three different directions.

Granik stopped in the middle of the garden path to rebalance the timber on his shoulder before setting off once more. Then, he paused, his gaze going to Juniper, who was tending the herb garden. I could hear her chatting sweetly to the herbs as she worked. Granik’s eyes lingered on her for a long time, a soft smile on his features, before setting off once more.

Interesting.

“More lemonade, everyone!” came Zarina’s cheerful call from the cottage’s front steps. “And Rosalyn has fresh cinnamon rolls and other goodies.”

I flicked my gaze to the pixie. Already, Stevenson was holding a cinnamon roll larger than his head and munching happily. With Louisa May hovering approvingly nearby, Rosalyn also gave each of the hatchlings a small bite.

“I still can’t believe I missed everything,” Rosalyn was telling Primrose, who had joined her at the table. “The whole romance. All of it. I’m so disappointed,” Rosalyn said with a laugh.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be here to catch the next bit of excitement, whatever that may be,” Primrose replied, her gaze going to Juniper who was smiling warmly at Granik as he lowered the boards.

Rosalyn and Primrose smiled knowingly at one another.

The announcement of food and drink caused a general migration toward food. The Sylvan elf Tansy and the dryad Kellen came from inside where they had been working, the pair happily joking with one another as they went.

I lowered myself to the ground and joined the others.

Primrose handed me a glass of lemonade, taking one for herself, and we stepped aside for a moment, just taking everything in.

“This is what I wanted,” she told me, gesturing. “Everyone I love in one place.” She smiled up at me. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Well… I always had visions of this cottage. I saw myself here with my family, my husband. And no matter how much it annoyed me, when I envisioned him, I saw you. Thank you for making that a reality.”

I set the drink aside and wrapped my arms around her waist, kissing her on the top of her head. “I’m very happy to spend the rest of our lives annoying you. What more could you ask for?”

“A good wine?”

“And, maybe, a good wine.”

“Welcome home, Erasmus.”

“Welcome home, Primrose.”

And for the first time in five hundred and eleven years, I truly was.