The Chapel Wars by Lindsey Leavitt

said. “I’m just saying we cater to a different clientele.”
    “Clearly.”
    He sat down and nodded at the seat next to him. “So tell me why you are here, Jim Nolan’s mysterious granddaughter.”
    “Holly. I’m Holly.” Why was I there? Because my grandpa told me to be. I was honoring a dying request. This was the truth I could share with anyone, like my family if they’d seen me in the parking lot and asked what I was doing.
    The secret truth had something to do with all the things I couldn’t help noticing about Dax, like the way he breathed—deep and with purpose. Like air was a gift, not a reflex.
    I was just noticing these things, like you do with an actor or a boy band member, someone you would never think to be with but still don’t mind staring at in glossy pages. I knew who Dax was, and who I was, and was very aware of the differences and divisions between us.
    I had hormones, but I also had
standards
.
    “I have a delivery.” I pinched the thick envelope in my purse.
    Walk in.
    Hand the envelope over.
    And … what was the last thing? Stay and watch him open it, right?
    Dax set the envelope in his lap. “Thanks. And I’m glad you came by. I wanted to talk about that, uh, spectacle with Poppy the other day. I know y’all won’t believe it, but he’s going to miss your grandpa too. He’s grieving in his own way.”
    I snorted. “I guess it’s hard to be the villain without a hero.”
    “Ouch.”
    Okay, I was on Victor’s home turf. Sitting in that morbid and themey room just made me bitter. Seriously, was that formaldehyde I smelled?
Why would anyone ever want to get married here?
“Sorry. I think I’m mechanically engineered to say stuff like that without thinking. I won’t condemn you for your relations anymore.”
    He breathed out. “Neither of us will. It’s just a last name. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
    “What?”
    “Shakespeare. It’s the only line I know. I probably shouldn’t tell you that so you think I’m smarter than I am.”
    I had no Shakespeare to shoot back, so I stayed quiet as he tore off the right end of the envelope, making sure not to rip the paper inside. He shook out the letter, glancing at the signature at the bottom. “It’s from your grandpa.”
    “Yeah. When he died …” I paused. That might have been the first time I’d said that word out loud. “He left me some things. One was that letter, with instructions to hand deliver it to you.”
    Dax set the paper down on his lap. The envelope was open, but he hadn’t read it.
    “I mean, why?” he asked.
    “Why what?”
    “Why me?”
    “I wish I could tell you.” I rubbed my hands against my shirt. Why was I so hot? Victor Cranston should spend less money on heating the building and more on his floral arrangements. “Things haven’t made much sense since he died.”
    “I’m sorry again.” He meant it.
    “That’s your tenth apology,” I said.
    “I use them all up at the beginning. Don’t expect more.”
    I rolled my eyes but couldn’t keep from smiling.
    He smooshed his lips together. “I don’t understand this. I’ve never even met your grandpa. Why would he leave something for me?”
    “Read it and find out.”
    Dax looked down at the paper. “It says I’m supposed to read this alone.”
    “Mine said that too.”
    He glanced up at me. “It specifically says without you here.”
    This crazy mystery was never going to be solved. I shook my fist at the ceiling. “Grandpa Jim! I’m going to come knock you off your cloud!”
    “It’s fine. I just won’t read it out loud.” Dax did that browfurrow thing as he scanned the letter. He looked older, like all the wisdom and sorrow in the world were embedded in the wrinkle between his eyes. He folded the paper into thirds, sticking it in his back pocket like I’d just given him directions to IHOP.
    “Well, then.” He brushed off his chaps. “That makes sense now.”
    “Sense? There is nothing about me sitting