Toward the end of July, Scarlett, me, Thatcher, and August flew up north to deal with their house. Scarlett had agreed to leave basic kitchen equipment, all the appliances, and most of the furniture so the subletting professor didn’t have to start from scratch.
That still left closets, dressers, and everything else. Good thing we have plenty of storage at Heartstone Manor. I worried that the kids or Scarlett might have second thoughts once they were in their old house. They had some quiet moments, especially packing up their rooms, but no one changed their minds.
Elliot, the asshole, didn’t bother to come by and see his kids while we were there. Not once. Maybe I should have been glad he wasn’t around to mess with the boys’ heads, but it just made me want to punch him.
With the help of the movers I’d hired, we got the house packed and loaded on the moving truck in two days. Boarding the plane in Boston, all Thatcher and August could talk about was getting back to Heartstone and the pool. I had to agree—packing a house in the summer heat was not as fun as floating in the pool.
Scarlett disappeared on us for almost two weeks after we got back. She was around in the morning and evening, but now that she had all her supplies from the tiny workshop she’d carved out in her house, she couldn’t wait to get settled in her new space. The room by Heartstone’s kitchens was several times larger than what she’d had before and she used every inch, getting lost in two or three projects at the same time.
It was a good thing because after she showed her work to some of the local galleries, she couldn't keep them in stock fast enough. By the time fall came around, Scarlett had secured a featured spot in two local galleries and a jewelry store that only featured local artisans.
Once the boys started school, our lives fell into a welcome routine. Savannah's Nicky was finally old enough for kindergarten. Griffen had surprised us all, especially Savannah, by saying that he was paying Nicky's tuition to the school Thatcher and August would attend.
Laurel Country Day, the school William Sawyer had founded and named after his mother, Dorothy Laurel Sawyer, had grown into a formidable institution over the years. Every Sawyer child had attended Laurel Country Day since the doors opened in 1893, just in time for William's son James to attend the inaugural first-grade class.
The only exception was Finn, who'd been expelled in his junior year. Even the Sawyer name and Prentice's generous donations hadn't been able to convince the school to allow Finn back. Setting fire to the principal's office tended to make school administrators cranky.
On their own, the boys might have been more nervous about starting a new school, but going together eased some of their anxiety. I dropped off all three of them in the morning before heading to the Inn. If you'd told me a year ago that driving three kids to school would be one of the highlights of my day, I would have laughed my ass off. Shows what I know.
I handled drop off and Scarlett covered pick-up. After she got August and Thatcher dressed for school, she headed down to her workshop. By three, when it was time to get the boys, she'd put in a full day and was ready to put down her torch.
Everything was going so well those first few months, I wasn't ready when Scarlett's parents announced they were coming for a visit. Only a few days after their call, their RV pulled through the gates. I couldn't relax, even after they spread their arms wide for their grandsons and Scarlett, hugging them tight until August squirmed away. He jumped up and down, excited beyond measure to show them his new home.
After a few days of getting to know each other, Scarlett's father clapped me on the shoulder and said it would be nice to worry a little less about his girl and her boys. I promised him Scarlett's days of handling everything on her own were over.
If I was nervous about meeting Scarlett's parents, the prospect of Elliott's parents visiting sent a ball of ice to my gut. Hawk had quietly informed me that Elliott was only getting in deeper with the Learys. I worried his parents would somehow blame me or Scarlett for Elliott's situation.
They didn't. Whatever illusions they'd had about their son had worn away years ago. Connie and Bill Hall were devoted to Thatcher and August and treated Scarlett like she was their own daughter.
Connie couldn't have been happier about everything—she loved Heartstone, raving over the boys' rooms, how nice my family was, how happy Scarlett and I were together. They stayed ten days, and when they left, Scarlett's former mother-in-law gave me a tight hug and said she looked forward to coming back for the wedding.