“So pretty much she’s your opposite,” Lou jokes.
“Pretty much.”
Patrick and Lou laugh.
Patrick slings his arm over my shoulder. “For a grouch, you sure are lovable.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I shake him off.
“What about her sister? Is she single?” Lou asks.
“No clue. Haven’t met her.”
“But they’re living next door to you, right?”
I nod.
“You can find out for me, then.” Lou holds up his hand. “I call dibs.”
Patrick rolls his eyes. “You can’t claim a woman like that, Lou.”
“I’m expressing my interest,” Lou argues, turning to me and pointing his finger at my chest. “I don’t want Mack to swoop in with his broodiness and sweep the other sister off her feet before I get the chance, ya know?”
“I’m not interested in Holland’s girlfriend’s sister.” Talk about complicated.
“All the better.” Lou nods, but then he rubs his hands together. “We do need to think about giving them both a nice, Cashmere Cove welcome, yeah?”
I start shaking my head.
“Come on, man. It’s tradition.”
“You are not pranking the Kasper sisters.”
“Not by myself,” Lou says, looking affronted. “We’ll do it together.”
“No way.”
“Why not?” Lou puts his hands on his hips. He’s a good six inches shorter than me, but he looks like he’s ready to rumble. “It’s how we welcome everyone into the fold—or at least how we vet people.”
The Cashmere Cove faithful have a custom of pranking people who move to town. I don’t know who started the tradition, but it’s been going on for longer than I’ve been alive to witness it.
It’s not malicious. Mostly, it’s a couple of harmless miscues that the locals enact on new arrivals to establish that the newbies can take a joke—that, and to add to the town lore.
That’s the thing about Cashmere Cove…we don’t take ourselves too seriously, and we love a good reminiscence. If someone moves to this part of Cashmere County, folks here want to break them in, make sure they can hang with the fun crowd. This is a small, close-knit community. Last I checked, our population hovered right around two-thousand people.
We don’t get a lot of turnover, so I guess I’m not surprised that Lou is practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of putting together a prank for Poppy and Rose.
“I’m still pretty proud that we passed muster.” Patrick puffs up his chest.
We toilet-papered their house until the trees looked like weeping willows. Then it rained. They were dealing with soggy toilet paper for weeks. To their credit, Patrick and Mia were excellent sports.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sure Holland warned them. What’s the point if they’re expecting it?”
Lou brushes me off with a pfft. “That’s all the more reason to get creative.”
I feel my lips itch with a smile. I’m not sure why I’m fighting this so hard. Maybe it’s some misplaced desire to protect Poppy. But I check it.
After all, this’ll be a good chance to see if she’s as happy-go-lucky as she appears to be. If she can’t handle a little Cashmere Cove pranking, then she sure as heck isn’t going to be able to handle my brother.
Speaking of Holland, he asked me to show her around town, and this is how we do things in Cashmere Cove.
“Fine. But this prank will not take place on my property.”
Lou grins. “So you’re saying there’s going to be a prank?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve got a great idea.” I step forward, and Patrick and Lou lean in.
5
Hips For It
Poppy
“So, Poppy, how’re you settling in?”
Holland’s mom, Darla, has plied me with a plateful of broccoli-and-cheese casserole, a kabob of fresh fruit, and three different kinds of pasta salad.
I swallow and set my plate down. We’re seated on the patio under an oversized umbrella. Darla has been nothing but doting since I got here, which is nice. It’s obvious that she’s very proud of Holland and predisposed to like me. I’ll take it.
“Really well, thank you. Mack’s duplex is…” I hesitate, trying to find the right word.
Darla scoffs. “Completely unsuitable. I told Holland you and your sister should have stayed here, but he insisted that you would appreciate your own space.”
I nod. Holland and I haven’t dated for long, but I’ll give the man extra props for understanding that, as a grown woman, I don’t want to live with my new-ish boyfriend’s mother.
“So then I tried to put a bug in Mack’s ear. ‘Get that property fixed up for those girls,’ I told him.” Darla’s forehead creases. “But that boy wouldn’t listen to his mother if his life depended on it.”
Darla continues to prattle on about Mack, but I’ve zoned out, only murmuring here and there when the lulls in the conversation merit it. I’m focused on the man himself. Mack and his two friends, who I’ve learned are Patrick and Lou, are off to the side of the yard, adding kindling to the fire pit. Mia, Patrick’s wife, is there too, along with Piper and Ed, Holland’s cousin and her fiancé. I was thrilled to meet them all earlier. I’ll be at Piper and Ed’s wedding later this summer, and Mia is Rose’s boss. Honestly, she’s been a highlight of this whole dinner. She could not be sweeter, and I think she and Rose will hit it off. Since Rose pretty much uprooted her entire life to come with me, I’m thankful she’s got a job here that she’ll enjoy. I make a mental note to thank Holland for coordinating that aspect of our cross-country move, as well.
I had been waffling over what Rose would do in Cashmere Cove and feeling guilty about the move. My middle sister has had a myriad of different jobs, including but not limited to being a cable company saleswoman, a coffee shop barista, and an NFL cheerleader, so it wasn’t that I didn’t think she could find something, but I wanted her to find something that she’d enjoy. That would make all the tumult worth it. When I randomly mentioned to Holland that Rose loves books and reading, he made the connection that Mia could use some help at Mood Reader, the local bookshop in Cashmere Cove. The rest is history.
Patrick has his arm around Mia now, and she’s gazing up at him with hearts in her eyes. Piper and Ed are in similar formation on the opposite side of the fire pit. Lou is running his mouth at Mack, who is crouched down, focused on the fire. I wonder if he was a boy scout. He’s got the look of a man who could fend for himself in the wild.
What look is that, you ask? I don’t know. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s building a log cabin with alternating pieces of smaller-sized wood.
When Mack turns his back to reach for another piece of kindling, Lou reaches down, grabs a handful of the crushed gravel that’s surrounding the firepit, and stuffs it down Mack’s shirt.
I can hear Mack growl and curse from where I’m sitting.
“MacArthur Bradley! Language!” Darla shouts in a tone I’m guessing she’s used on her sons since forever.