Hazel was perched at the edge of her bed, her knees bouncing up and down. After dinner—Emmett’s crab cakes and a summer salad, eaten on the patio—Hazel had rushed back to the guesthouse and flung open the closet door. Jaime had disappeared before dessert, and Hazel was relieved. She had no idea what kind of lame excuse she’d rattle off if Jaime caught her, sitting alone, staring out the window, and wearing a gown. Because that’s exactly what the dress was: a gown. Made of rose-colored silk, it had subtle accents: a muted trail of flowers at the hem, and a delicate chain that dangled from the clasp. Hazel had stopped breathing when she’d pulled it out of the bag. It was, hands down, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. But it would be a nightmare to explain. Which was why she had waited until dark. Once the sun finally tucked itself behind the glowing horizon, a shadow falling over the fields, Hazel ran barefoot out of the cabin and down to the path in the woods. She’d known right away that the pond was where she was headed.
