Change of Heart (31 page)

Marin moved toward him. “It’s not great, Whit, but it’s not a deal breaker. You need to tell her the truth and then see if you can move past it.”

Casey groaned. “Terrible advice.”

Marin spun around. “You knew too, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m in love with you
 
—not Evelyn.”

She huffed impatiently. “What is it about Christopher Brandt that everyone is so afraid of? He’s a small-minded, narcissistic, pigheaded man on a power trip. And he doesn’t deserve your loyalty. Or Evelyn’s.”

Marin was right. For whatever reason, they’d all been overawed by Chris since they were kids. Somehow that translated to bad behavior on his behalf
 
—and it had to end.

She took Trevor’s hands and looked at him with the same concern his mother used to have when she would give sage advice. “Put this down, Whit. It’s not yours to carry.”

The words dangled in the air, daring him to take them to heart. He wanted it to be true
 
—that he didn’t have to drag all of this around with him anymore. Evelyn’s marriage had ended. She was mostly free of the man who’d betrayed her.

“I have to tell her,” Trevor said, his voice quiet.

“Then you need to eat some of Marin’s chili before you go.” Casey led him out of the nursery. “As last meals go, it’s not a bad choice.”

They walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Trevor watched as Marin and Casey maneuvered together like a couple performing a perfectly choreographed slow dance. “I hope you guys know how lucky you are.”

Casey glanced at Marin, whose face lit with a soft smile. “We don’t really believe in luck.”

“Yeah, I know.” Trevor didn’t believe in luck either. He believed in a God who would help him navigate the consequences of the choices he’d made up to this point.

Marin laughed. “You’re lucky too, Whit. You just don’t know it yet.”

He hoped so. As he ate, he said a silent prayer that he would find the courage to finally tell the truth, and he hoped that somehow it really would set him free.

CHAPTER

E
VELYN STOOD IN THE LOFT
above The Paper Heart, admiring the way the light filtered in through the many windows facing east, perfect for catching the morning sun.

“What do you think?” Abigail Pressman stood at the top of the stairs; below them was the store she’d filled with unique treasures, hand-painted furniture, and one-of-a-kind artwork from Loves Park’s most prominent artists.

But the loft? Empty.

“It’s an incredible space,” Evelyn said. “Peaceful.”

“So.” Abigail smiled. “Do you want it?”

Evelyn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I heard through the grapevine you were looking for a studio space.” Abigail had been through quite an ordeal with her previous business, but now it was as if losing her prime real estate in Old Town was always part of the plan. She seemed genuinely happy, as though she’d found something Evelyn had only ever dreamed of.

Her purpose.

“I’m not sure who told you that. The only painting I’ve done lately is the hearts.” But that didn’t mean Evelyn hadn’t thought of it. She’d lost so much of herself, she had a feeling painting might be the only way to figure out who it was she was supposed to become in the first place.

And yes, she was still on the hunt for peace, the kind she’d glimpsed at Whitney Farms.

“Surely you don’t want to stock shelves forever,” Abigail said. “I was thinking you could work up here, and we could set up art workshops for kids, parents, whoever wants to come.” Abigail watched her. “It would give you some time to decide what’s next.”

Evelyn looked around. The loft, in the old barn that was currently Abigail’s store, was certainly large enough for a small group of people to come in and paint. And there would still be plenty of room for Evelyn to work during the week. Her children’s book sketches were long gone, but she’d begun reimagining them. It would be wonderful to have a place to bring
Silly Lily
to life.

She looked at Abigail. “You would want me to teach them?”

“Why not?” she replied. “People would love to take art classes from the woman behind those painted hearts.”

Had Abigail forgotten what was still being said about her around town?

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, but don’t think too long,” Abigail said. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking and just
do
.”

“Is that what you did?” Evelyn asked. “With the store?”

Abigail started down the stairs, motioning for Evelyn to follow. “Not exactly. I overanalyzed that situation for too many weeks.”

Evelyn watched as Abigail steamed milk for two lattes.

“But I learned that sometimes when we’re busy looking for open doors, we forget that the closed doors are just as important.” She handed a cup to Evelyn.

Evelyn took a sip.

“Sometimes the doors that close lead us to something better.”

“I’m not sure that’s true when it comes to marriage.” She thought about what Christopher had told her about Trevor. She should’ve gone straight to Whit and demanded the truth, but she didn’t. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to know the truth. Instead, she’d been camping out in Gigi’s guest room for three weeks, under the old woman’s watchful eye.

Trevor had called every day, and every day Evelyn ignored the calls, deleted the voice mails, and tried to stop reliving the moment he’d finally kissed her, then pushed her away.

And while she’d decided there was a good chance Christopher was lying about Trevor helping him, there was still his rejection to sort out. His mixed signals. His unkind kindness. It would be easier to hate him if she still thought he was only a boorish, angry man with a grudge against the world, unhappy with the hand he’d been dealt.

But he wasn’t any of those things.

She shook the thought away. Regardless of whether he’d helped Christopher betray her, he had kept things from her. Important things she had a right to know. In some ways, that was harder to swallow. She’d been wrestling with her conflicting feelings for three straight weeks, wallowing in self-pity and wishing she could disappear from her life for a while.

The fact that she even stood in The Paper Heart at all was something of a mystery. She certainly hadn’t wanted to get up that morning. Perhaps it was Gigi’s incessant knocking that had drawn her out of bed.

“All I know is what happened to you was unfair and devastating,” Abigail said. “I felt like losing my store was unfair and devastating too.” She looked at Evelyn. “I know it’s wrong of me to compare the two, but that store was my whole life.”

And Christopher had been Evelyn’s.

“Losing it gave me the chance to start dreaming again.” She put a hand over Evelyn’s. “Maybe it’s time for you to do that too.”

Evelyn stared at their hands on the counter. She’d been doing that for three weeks. Holed up in Gigi’s house, sketching, making lists, getting ideas. Dreaming of a life without a facade, free of expectations and obligations
 
—caught up, instead, in whatever God had for her and hopeful that one day she could accept the gift of his grace.

What she wouldn’t give to help Trevor and Lilian with the next community dinner. If plans held, it would be coming up soon
 
—would they try to do it without her?

Could she blame them if they did? She wasn’t taking Whit’s phone calls, so how would she know?

The door opened with a start, drawing their attention.

“Glory be! It’s cold out there,” Gigi said, rushing inside, Doris and Ursula close behind. “You girls ready to get to work?”

“Doing what?” Evelyn took another sip while Abigail set about making drinks for each of the ladies and Tess, who had a knack for tardiness.

“You didn’t tell her?” Doris stared at Gigi.

“Probably didn’t want to hear her complain,” Ursula said, plopping down at a large table next to the counter. “Got any food back there, Pressman?”

Abigail shot her a look. “I’ve only got two hands, Pembrooke.”

Ursula frowned, eyes narrowing underneath bushy brows. Since the two had teamed up in business, they’d formed this odd, mutually sarcastic relationship. The others knew better than to get in the middle of it.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Evelyn asked. “Is this about the hearts? I only did the prototypes. They’re finished now.”

Gigi and Doris exchanged a worried glance.

“We have a job offer for you,” Gigi said.

“Why?” Evelyn asked.

“Because you’re broke.” Ursula set her elbows on the table. “Money is a great motivator.”

“And I know you don’t want to sleep in my sewing room forever,” Gigi said.

Well, that was true. Evelyn moved over to the table, where the others had begun to sit. “I’m listening.” As much as she hated to admit it, Ursula was right. She was broke. And while Abigail’s offer was a kind one, and something she would certainly consider, it wouldn’t provide enough to live on.

Gigi smiled with her whole face like a child with a secret she couldn’t wait to tell. “The city is looking for an artist in residence,” she said, rummaging through her purse. She pulled out an envelope and slid it across the table toward Evelyn. “They want you. Apparently we aren’t the only ones who believe in your talent.”

“I don’t understand,” Evelyn said. She peered at the walls of The Paper Heart. A variety of artists were represented, all different mediums. How would Evelyn ever compete with these people? It had been years since she’d painted seriously
 
—and she had a lot of catching up to do.

“Don’t do that,” Ursula said, mouth full of the blueberry muffin Abigail had set in front of her moments before.

“Do what?” Evelyn asked.

“Analyze it.” Ursula squinted at her. “Pressman does the same thing. Sometimes you have to stop thinking and just do.”

Evelyn glanced at Abigail, who shrugged. “Told ya,” she said.

“I’ll consider it,” Evelyn said.

“Right, because you have so many other appealing offers.” Ursula popped another bite in her mouth.

Doris and Gigi both chastised her for her honesty, but Evelyn found it refreshing. At least she knew Ursula would tell her the truth, which was more than she could say for Christopher. Or Whit, for that matter.

The thought stung. She missed the peacefulness of the farm. She missed walking the perimeter, keeping her distance from the cows. She missed
him
. But none of that mattered now. He’d rejected her, kept things from her, and that was what she needed to remember
 
—otherwise, she’d find herself hurt all over again.

Maybe Trevor Whitney was the closed door Abigail was talking about.

“What is there to think about anyway, Evelyn?” Gigi asked. “I’ve been authorized to make you this offer.”

“Won’t other artists be interested?” Evelyn asked.

“The committee asked for you,” Gigi said. “They were so impressed by what you did with the hearts and doubly impressed by the community dinner you organized and decorated for Mr. Whitney.”

There had to be a catch. Evelyn knew firsthand how unpopular she was with committees in this town. She frowned. “Why all of a sudden does Loves Park need an artist in residence?”

“Overthinker.” Ursula spat it like a swearword.

Gigi shrugged. “I’m not sure. The mayor called and said after your work with the hearts, they started thinking of many other ways someone with your talent could be of service to the community. They’re willing to give you a chance.”

Doris nodded in agreement. “They haven’t done much updating around here lately. Someone with your creativity and artistic eye is just what Loves Park needs.”

Evelyn couldn’t deny the offer intrigued her, but she still had questions. Like why was the city suddenly willing to create a position and offer it to her? It was only a few months ago they were accusing her of being a part of defrauding Loves Park with her criminal of a husband.

“Stop thinking so much, Evelyn,” Tess said, finally joining them after rushing in late. “This is a good thing. Could be an answer to prayer.”

Evelyn couldn’t disagree, though frantic half thoughts called up in moments of despair hardly counted as prayers . . . right?

But that wasn’t accurate, was it? Prayer had become a regular part of her morning routine. Could Tess be right? A tangible answer to prayer?

“While you ponder this incredible opportunity to work for the city of Loves Park
doing what you love
. . .” Gigi’s words were pointed. Evelyn took the hint, but Gigi continued. “We need to talk about the opening of the painted hearts exhibit tonight.”

Evelyn groaned. The city council had been so impressed by the prototype hearts, they’d decided to add them to the museum as a display of the importance of the romantic tradition in their town. Apparently tourists loved that sort of thing.

“Would you rather discuss why you’ve been sleeping in my spare room instead of Trevor Whitney’s guesthouse?” Gigi asked matter-of-factly. “Or perhaps why you won’t take his phone calls?”

“Ooh, yes,” Doris said, leaning in toward Evelyn. “Let’s talk about that.”

Evelyn set her coffee down. “Let’s not.”

“I’ve been asking her for days,” Gigi said. “The first night she showed up with a suitcase, she looked far too disheveled for questions, really. Hair was a mess. She’d clearly been crying.”

“I’m still sitting here,” Evelyn said, though she had a feeling this was a repeat of a conversation these women had already had.

“Odds are she and Mr. Whitney had some sort of fight,” Doris said. “But he’s so kind and so good, I can’t imagine why you would want to pick a fight with him.”

Evelyn shot Doris a look, but before she could respond, Ursula pushed herself away from the table. “She probably overanalyzed him too.”

“Maybe she’s upset that we did such a terrible job of matching Trevor. We obviously didn’t do our homework on that Maggie,” Tess said.

“Oh, we haven’t given up on Mr. Whitney,” Doris said. “Now that we’ve discovered him, we won’t rest until we find him a suitable companion. Tess, have you done any digging into those other names I gave you?”

“What other names?” Tension squared Evelyn’s shoulders.

“Possibilities to match with Trevor,” Tess said. “I should have details by our next meeting.”

Gigi held up a hand. “Ladies, please.”

“Yeah, Gigi wants to complain about her new housemate,” Ursula said.

“I am not complaining,” Gigi said. “I’m known for my hospitality. I only wish our Evelyn trusted us enough to share the truth with us.” She turned to Evelyn, finally acknowledging she was still sitting beside her. “Ever since the night of the Sweetheart Festival dance, something has certainly been bothering you. We only want to help.”

Evelyn saw the concern in Gigi’s eyes. She circled the table slowly, noting worry on all of their faces. She originally assumed this group of women was like every other group she’d joined at Christopher’s request, but she’d been wrong. After all she’d been through, she counted these ladies among her very small circle of friends, and they deserved the truth. But Evelyn couldn’t talk about any of it. She was far too humiliated to admit she’d trusted not one but two of the wrong men.