Page 101 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
Nick had told me yesterday that the station couldn’t hold all of the breakfast’s attendees, so a couple of years ago they’d started breaking up the flow in waves. All week, Prescott residents had been buying tickets for one of three breakfast servings. They were expecting nearly five hundred people today, nearly two-thirds of Prescott’s entire population.
While Nick and his volunteers prepped the breakfast, I set up my raffle station on the front ticket table. Every restaurant I had called yesterday had been delighted by the idea of a restaurant tour. I’d happily spent hours at Nick’s office computer, making signs and printing tickets.
“Looks great, Wife. Do you need anything else?” Nick asked, surveying my setup.
“I think we’re all set,” I said. “What else can I do to help you?”
“You don’t need to help, Emmy. Just enjoy the breakfast.”
“You’ve got more than enough work to do. Let me help.”
“Do you want to stick around here and help Michael take tickets at the door?”
I smiled. “I can do that. It will give me a chance to promote the raffle too.”
He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. When the catcalls from his men started ringing through the air, I blushed.
“Get back to work, you lazy assholes!” Nick shouted over his shoulder with a grin.
At eight o’clock, the first breakfast attendee walked through the doors. By noon, the food was nearly gone, my raffle tickets had sold out, and I needed a nap.
“That was something else,” I told Michael.
Michael was Nick’s newest volunteer firefighter and also Maisy and Beau Holt’s youngest brother. He wasn’t nearly as large as his brother but I could see the family resemblance.
“No shit,” he said. “I’ve only ever come as a guest. That was crazy. I don’t know how Nick stays so calm.”
I had been so proud to watch Nick this morning. With masses of people all trying to get his attention, he had never once gotten flustered. He’d talk while cooking, effortlessly visiting while flipping hundreds of pancakes.
He was a natural leader. Inspiring. Steady. Genuine. Hardworking. If my house was on fire, I wouldn’t want anyone else in charge of putting it out.
“Thanks for your help, Emmeline,” Michael said when the table was stowed in storage.
“My pleasure.”
“It was cool of you to watch Coby so Maisy could eat without him on her lap.”
“I was glad to. He’s such a sweet little boy,” I said.
“I’m not so good with babies. Beau is better.” Michael frowned.
“Don’t worry. He won’t be a baby for long. You can aspire to be the uncle that teaches him how to fish or takes him camping.” The frown on his face turned into a happy grin. Apparently, I had just tur
ned on a light bulb.
“Right. My work here is done. While you guys finish tearing down tables, I’m going to catch a nap on Nick’s couch.”
“Thanks again, Emmeline. Nick’s lucky to have such a nice wife,” he said.
Wife.
Since the beginning, Nick had only ever called me by two nicknames, “Emmy” and “Wife.” I liked that I wasn’t his “baby,” “sugar” or “darling.” I was “Wife.” He was “Husband.” Though, I hadn’t called him that since Vegas. I wasn’t sure what, but something was missing now. A part of me felt that using that nickname disparaged the word’s true meaning in a way. Made it less special.
So I hadn’t said it.
But I didn’t want Nick to stop calling me “Wife.” That endearment was only for me. No other woman had fallen asleep in his arms with that word ringing in her ears.
I flopped down on his couch and closed my eyes but couldn’t find sleep. There was too much noise outside Nick’s office and doubts were swirling in my mind.
