"Hey, I called it first," Summer says. "Right? At Alice's engagement party."
Summer sighs, a dreamy expression on her face. And that's when I realize why I didn't want to tell them. Because of course, the girls would immediately think there would be an epic love story in the making. They are the most romantic people I know. I'm not romantic, but seeing them so excited gives me hope, and I don't want that. I'm an optimistic person, but I don't like to hope for impossible things, and least of all tie my hopes to one person. That has always, always led me to heartbreak.
In the first year at the group home, I put all my hopes on Aunt Judith, my only living relative. I'd hoped she'd let me stay with her. But Aunt Judith never even visited. I went to bed every night that first year clinging to that hope. Then when I had that brief stint with a foster family I loved, I hoped again. That they'd want to adopt me or at least keep me until I was eighteen and could be on my own. That went south too. It hadn't been their fault, but I still didn't have a family. The second foster family was the final straw.
They were not particularly affectionate, but they treated me right: gave me my own room, three healthy meals, and their house was very peaceful. I prepared breakfast every morning for both of them. I tended to their garden and helped with cleaning. I was supposed to only stay with them for two months, but I'd hoped they'd want me to stay longer. I thought I was doing so well. But when the two months were up, they returned me to the group home with a pink slip in my hand for our supervisor. I begged and begged them to let me stay, promising never to be difficult, telling them I could even move into the cupboard under the stairs if they needed the room (I'd done a recent reread of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and treated every word as gospel). They explained that they'd hosted me so they'd see if having children was for them and discovered it was not.
I stopped hoping afterward. It wasn't easy, but definitely less heartbreaking than waiting for someone to come and save me.
Summer's and Pippa's voices snap me out of my thoughts.
"Where did you just go?" Summer asks.
"I think someone is replaying a certain hot kiss in their mind," Pippa adds.
I smile mysteriously in return. Better they think that.
"By the way, before I forget, I talked to Sebastian today. He and Ava decided to celebrate Will's birthday at our old ranch," Pippa says. "It'll be an overnight trip. Is that okay for you? I know it's short notice, but they literally decided this morning."
"Of course it's okay. Can't wait to see the ranch."
It's where the Bennett kids grew up. They sold the ranch a long time ago to give Sebastian capital to start Bennett enterprises, but he bought it back for them a few years ago, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennett turned it into a B&B. They still live in their San Francisco home, because it's nearer to their kids, while the ranch is a few hours away.
I love that they invite me to all family events, and I make a point not to miss any unless I have an emergency. Wouldn't miss Will's third birthday for anything in the world. As I wonder what the odds are that someone else bought him the same present I did, I catch Pippa and Summer exchanging a glance.
Sweet baby Jesus, I know that look. It means they are plotting.
CHAPTER TEN
Clara
"I can't believe I've never been to the ranch," I exclaim one week later, on a bright Saturday morning, while I'm helping Summer unload the boxes from her trunk. I'm beginning to sweat from the effort of it, and judging by the color in Summer's cheeks, it's no picnic for her either. She filled her trunk and back seat to the brim with party supplies.
"You will love it."
We both let out a breath of relief as Daniel heads in our direction. That should make the unloading easier. He kisses both of us on the cheeks, then gapes at the car.
"Summer, the party's for one three-year-old, not ten," Daniel remarks, shaking his head. Summer grins proudly. She requested to be in charge of the party, and this is the result.
"I don't do anything half-assed. Can some of the other boys come out and help?"
Judging by the number of cars in the parking lot, everyone's here already.
"Let's take what we can inside, and I'll come back out with reinforcements. I assumed I'd be enough."
"Well, that was just silly," Summer exclaims, shaking her head mockingly.
Daniel carries one of the heavier boxes, and Summer and I focus on the bags in the back seat.
I soak in everything as we walk the hundred feet or so from the car to the house. The ranch sits on a decent piece of land with dahlias blooming seemingly everywhere in a multitude of shades of pink, like one enormous painting. This is a terrific Saturday. It's barely ten o'clock, and we have the entire day ahead of us. Noises reach us as we approach the house: the chatter of adults, the laughter of kids. The front door is open and Summer hurries inside, placing the bags on the floor, and then we both head along the corridor, following the noises.