Roses, peonies, lilies, carnations—the overpowering scent filled the room. If it wasn't for all the sniffing and hushed conversations, I might've thought I was entering a flower shop and not the chapel in the funeral home where it was time for Granny's memorial service to begin.

People filled every pew, and the overflow stood in the open space in the back of the room. The only open seats were in the front where my parents sat chatting quietly with the solemn faced, gray-haired pastor, waiting for the five of us to join them in their row.

The minister stood as he spotted us moving toward them, and his name disappeared in the haze of grief fogging my brain. Damn it. How could I forget? Granny had mentioned him so many times.

She liked him and insisted he wasn't as judgmental as some Southern Baptist leaders could be, even though he wasn't much younger than her. I always thought that was just her way of trying to get me to go to church with her, but as our group grew closer, the genuine sympathy and sadness emanating from him struck me. He wasn't just filling his role; he cared.

As we neared him, he greeted Liv and Andre each by name and they seemed to know him too. Damn my luck. I might as well have carried a sign—heathen coming through.

The pastor shared a few seconds of quiet conversation with them that left Andre hugging Liv against his side as she thanked the preacher and reached into her purse for a fresh tissue. They took their seats, and the pastor moved to the next in line.

"And here's Laurel." With a smile, he patted the back of her hand. "Wonderful friend and business partner."

Laurel's face brightened with surprise. "Have we met?"

"Charlotte was a big fan of yours—said you had a fire she admired." He chuckled. "I'd never seen her happier than when she told me how well the realty business was going for the two of you."

"Thank you, Pastor Brown." Laurel beamed at him. "Granny was one of the kindest people I've ever known. Her opinion means a lot to me." Brown, that was his name. Thanks, Laurel.

As she sat, Pastor Brown shook my outstretched hand. "Joby. Charlotte's favorite grandson."

A huff of laughter escaped me as his warm greeting calmed my nerves. "She loved saying that. I'd always remind her I'm her only grandson." My eyes stung as Nate gave my shoulder a supportive squeeze and Granny's cheerful voice filled my mind. If I didn't like you, I could still call you my least favorite grandson.

"She loved you and looked forward to every visit and phone call." He turned to Nate and shook his hand. "And you must be her new young friend, Nate. She thought the world of you."

Nate's full lips curved into a smile. "The feeling was definitely mutual. I'll miss talking with her." His voice tightened on the last words, and Pastor Brown nodded.

"We all will, myself included." He patted Nate's arm. "Why don't you boys get settled? We'll get this thing started before we run out of tissues."

We sat as the pastor moved toward the podium to begin the service and the room shifted their attention to him. I tried my best to do the same, but with the woodsy scent of Nate's cologne enveloping me, it wasn't easy.

Peeking his way, I noticed his stiff posture and the way he'd pressed his other side against the arm of the pew, keeping his distance as much as possible. My heart sank, and I tried not to think of it as rejection. This wasn't a date. This wasn't about me or us. It was about saying goodbye to Granny.

As Pastor Brown opened with a prayer, I focused on his words and nothing else. For the next thirty minutes, he spoke about Granny, sharing stories from her life, giving examples of the many charitable things she'd done, and how she'd regularly spend her days lifting people's spirits.

The pastor's pleasant tone continued, soothing my congested thoughts. My mind strayed as I relaxed and scanned the room, slowing on the front pew across the aisle. Briar sat on the far end in an appropriate navy dress that didn't bare even a hint of cleavage. Clearly, she hadn't dressed herself.

Beside her was Aunt Ruth Grace's current husband, Kiaan. This marriage had already lasted longer than others, and he'd put up with more family drama than the rest combined.

Rather than running away after the show Briar put on at Christmas, Kiaan helped Ruth Grace move her daughter to their home in South Carolina. The man's patience and ability to handle stressful situations should be studied. Everyone I knew could use a bit of whatever made him tick.

I wondered how the new situation was working for them, but dismissed the thought. As long as she wasn't upsetting our lives, I didn't care what my cousin was up to.

A light shone above the preacher, and I realized the wall behind him was now being used to project photographs. There were a few of Granny when she was young, then a jump to her wedding day, where she wore the same earrings my sister wore today.

Soft music played as the pictures changed. There was my father and Ruth Grace as children with their parents. Then a few with just them and Granny in the years after their father had passed.

After that, it became a slideshow of familiar candids that included the whole family, Granny's church friends, people she volunteered with at the women's shelter, and it went on. Most of the island seemed to have been photographed smiling and living life with Granny.

One appeared that I'd never seen before, and my breath caught in my throat. It was a beautiful side profile picture of Granny, taken last Christmas, but what caught me off guard was the reason for the huge grin covering her face.

Through the living room window, she watched as Liv, Nate, and I prepared to leave. Liv was already in her car, but Nate's gaze was aimed over the roof at me. My cheeks glowed an embarrassing shade of pink, highlighting my nervousness, while Nate stood tall and confident with his full lips pulled into a flirty smirk.

Even in a photo, that look sent a tingle up my spine, so I focused on Granny again before my thoughts could run away from me. Her excitement flowed from the image so tangibly, so full of love and acceptance, it was like being held in one of her tight hugs. An unexpected sob left my throat, and Nate instantly took my hand in his.

With a shocked flinch, I looked over to find him watching me with soft eyes and a sympathetic tilt of his head. His grip tightened and his thumb drew circles on my knuckles, releasing some of the tension from my body.

As our laced fingers rested against the cushioned seat between us, I wondered, who took that picture? Mom and Dad were the only ones inside with Granny.

I shifted, catching Dad's attention, and seeing my confusion, he nodded and gave me a tight smile before turning back to the slideshow. A tear spilled over his lashes as the last few images passed by and the display ended.

Pastor Brown smiled at the crowd. "Charlotte Carson loved her family and friends, and as we can see by the number of people here, anyone who spent even a minute getting to know her loved her right back." He stopped to dry his eyes. "I've never known a more kind or caring person. She was a true give-you-the-shirt-off-her-back Christian who will be missed by many. But let's remember, our loss is Heaven's gain, and God willing, we'll see her again."

A chorus of amen and other sounds of agreement filled the air, and the service came to a close. I peered over my shoulder, hoping to see people heading to the exit, but the only one racing for the door was Sawyer—Liv's ex-boyfriend, and more recently Briar's ex-husband. Good riddance.

The rest of the well-intentioned mourners moved toward us, ready to hug and console. Nate stood, slipping his hand from mine, and I took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day.

Thanks for reading 💜