Clare shook her head. "We were thinking that a mural might be too busy. I think we're going to go with basic colors for now."
"Oh." Astrid's chest tightened as she thought of the reams of paper pinned up on her apartment walls with her ideas for the mural. "Do you want me to show you the designs anyway? You might change your mind. I could run home and grab them. Or tonight?"
Clare's eyes sparkled, and she pulled Astrid away from the girls. "I can't tonight," she whispered. "Griffin and I are having a date night."
Astrid raised her brows. "Isn't every night a date night with you two?"
Clare laughed. "Yes, true, but we're going to a show in Portland, and he booked us the presidential suite at The Bungalow."
Astrid blinked. "That new luxury hotel that is by invitation only at this point?"
"Yes!" Clare giggled. "I'm so excited. I haven't been to the theatre in so long. The girls are going to Griffin's ex's for the night, so it's just us." She leaned forward, her face glowing. "This is the first time since Katie was born that I've gone off on vacation without her. I feel a little guilty, but I'm really excited. I know it's only two nights, but still!"
Astrid smiled and threw her arm around her friend's shoulder, her spirits restored by Clare's confession. Even though Clare had this new life, she still had the same vulnerability she always did. She was still Clare, and Astrid still had a place in her life. "Don't feel guilty. Every mom deserves a night off once every fifteen years. You deserve it."
Clare grinned. "Thanks, Astrid." She poked Astrid in the side. "When are you going to stop beating the men off with a club and let one into your life? The right one's not such a bad thing, you know."
Astrid stiffened, immediately thinking of Jason.
Clare stared at her. "Oh my God, what happened? Who is it? Astrid!"
Astrid grimaced. "I'm freaking out," she admitted. "You know that guy who bought—"
"What guy?" The tarp was thrust aside and in strutted Eppie Orlowe, the town's gossip and self-appointed savior of all females she deemed in need of her services. Today she was wearing a violet and fuchsia flowered sundress and a straw hat with a stuffed loon on the left brim. "Are you dating someone, Astrid? How could you keep this from me?"
Astrid grinned as Eppie thrust her way into the conversation. Clare had always been aggravated by Eppie's interference in her life, but honestly, Astrid loved that Eppie seemed to have turned her attentions onto Astrid. It felt good. Not that she was going to tell Eppie that Jason had unsettled her. It would take about two seconds for Eppie to march over to Jason's store, announce he'd upset Astrid, and demand a life-résumé to find out whether he was worthy. She would never let Eppie interfere in her life, but on some levels, it felt good to know Eppie had locked onto her. "No man, Eppie. Sorry to disappoint you."
Eppie peered at Astrid, and her eyes narrowed. "Have you created any new jewelry designs this week?"
Astrid stiffened at the intrusive question. "What?" How did Eppie know that she'd lost her creativity? When she'd first moved here, she'd poured her broken soul into her jewelry, creating so many new designs that almost every piece of jewelry she made had been one of a kind.
But it had been harder and harder lately, and she hadn't crafted a new design in months. She could barely manage to spin the ones she'd already created, let alone think of something new. It was as if the fire that drove her creativity had sputtered out, and her profits were beginning to show the effect of it.
Given that money wasn't exactly flowing in the first place, it was starting to scare Astrid, which had crashed her creativity to the final standstill she hadn't been able to recover from. Hence last night's creativity marathon.
"Jewelry. You know that thing you do that supports you?" Eppie shook her head, and made a tsking sound. "You haven't designed anything new, have you?"
Astrid shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Clare, who was frowning at her. "I'm fine—"
"Bullshit," Eppie said. "You're crashing and burning, Astrid, and you're too damn fool stubborn to admit it."
Astrid pulled her shoulders back. "I'm not crashing and burning—"
"No? Have you even thought about your plans yet for moving?"
"Moving?" A cold chill rippled through Astrid. "Moving where?" She and her mother had moved seventeen times by the time Astrid celebrated her sixteenth birthday at the drive-thru of McDonald's with their entire life packed in the back of yet another run-down jalopy, en route to their next "fresh start." The past two years in Birch Crossing had been the longest Astrid had ever stayed in one place. Even though she still felt like she didn't quite fit, she liked the fact she'd been in the same place long enough for her orchid to go through a full cycle of blooming, instead of having to throw it in the trash on her way out the door to a new life. She knew she didn't quite belong here, but she wasn't ready to move on yet.
"Mom, I think we should go with yellow and green stripes," Katie said, drawing Clare's attention back to the decor.
"Stripes?" Astrid shook her head. "The lines in here are all wrong for stripes. That will be too many geometric shapes—"
"Oh, silly me," Eppie said, tapping Astrid's arm. "I forgot to give it to you, didn't I?"
Astrid frowned at her. "Give me what?" She glanced over at Clare and the girls, itching to get involved before they went off on some crazy decorating scheme that would be a gross insult to colors everywhere.
"This." Eppie fished into her oversized cotton purse that had a goat-herding mountain scene embroidered on it, and then handed Astrid a thin, white envelope that had already been torn open. "I haven't given this to you yet. Of course you don't know."
Astrid frowned as she took the envelope. On the outside was her name and address. "What is this? Did you read it?" Some of her amusement at Eppie's interference faded at the thought of the older lady reading her mail. Interference was one thing. Finding out Astrid's secrets was not okay.
"It's from Sam." Eppie drew her shoulders back and met Astrid's gaze, blinking her eyes with wide and completely fabricated innocence. "I have no idea how it got opened. It must have caught on my car keys while it was in my purse."
"Sam? Sam who?" Astrid grimaced when Eppie rolled her eyes at Astrid's question. As someone who'd lived in Birch Crossing for two years, Astrid was considered an utter failure in the small town because she didn't know the name and personal life of everyone in town. How could she? She didn't want to invade other people's privacy any more than she wanted hers on display.
It was too hard to forget if she saw her past reflected in everyone's eyes when they looked at her.
"Samuel Melvin White. Your landlord," Eppie said impatiently.
Astrid's heart froze. Her landlord had sent her a letter? She'd seen too many of those in her life, taped up on their door when her mother had stopped paying rent to see how long she could go without paying before they got kicked out. "Why do you have it?"
"I stopped by his house to tell him that his roses needed pruning. Have you seen them? Beautiful yellow ones, but quite frankly they could be much nicer. Ever since he started dating that artist and spending all that time at her home in New Hampshire, he's just not tending to things here the way he should." Eppie shook her head, clucking her disapproval. "He's just damned lucky that I'm here to keep an eye on him."
Her heart pounding, Astrid folded the envelope without opening it. Her hands were shaking. She knew she'd paid her rent on time. She was never even a day late. She made sure of it. Her studio was tiny, and the stench of gasoline from the mechanic's shop downstairs forced her to sleep with the windows open even during the winter, but it was the only place in the entire town she could afford, and it had been her home for two years. He wasn't going to evict her, was he? What could it be?
Eppie raised her brows. "Aren't you going to read it?"
"Not right now." Astrid's mouth was dry. "I need to help Clare with the mural." But then she realized that Clare and the two teens were gone. She glanced out the window just in time to see Clare and the girls climb into Clare's Subaru and pull out of the small parking lot. What? They'd left without even telling her?
"Well, I'll tell you then." Eppie patted her arm. "Sam's decided that he's madly in love with that artist from New Hampshire, Rosa Stevens, and he's going to spirit his arthritic old self off there to grow even older with her." She beamed at Astrid. "Isn't that sweet? He's going to keep his cabin on the lake because that's where they met, but the old coot is finally going to retire! He's going to give the garage to his son, who is going to tear it down and build a fancy hotel or something. So, you've got three weeks to get yourself out of there, and find a new spot."
Astrid's lungs constricted, and her head started to pound. "I have to move out? In three weeks?" But that was her home. Her only home. The only one she'd had in her whole life. The one that had been her salvation when she'd thought she was going to die. "I can't—"
"You sure can." Eppie nodded cheerfully and patted her arm. "Now, don't you start getting all mopey, girl. There are millions of homes in this damned country of America. Quite frankly, you deserve more than to live on top of that garage anyway. Use this as a chance to get a fresh start and get a little inspiration into your life."
A fresh start.
The words jabbed at Astrid's heart, words she'd heard so many times in her life. They always signified leaving behind a dog or a new friend or a nice teacher. They always meant being thrust into a stark, lonely hotel and sleeping in the car while her mom drove randomly until she saw a man in a diner who caught her eye, and she decided that was the town that would be their next home.
Stunned, Astrid gripped the letter, crushing it in her hand. "I have to go."
Eppie peered at her. "Sweet Lord, girl. You look like you just ate your mama's big toe. What the hell are you looking so upset for? It's just a damned apartment."
Astrid shook her head. "It's not," she whispered. "It's not." Unable to hold in the surge of panic, she blindly shoved her way through the tarp and into the main section of the store.
"Astrid!" Ophelia shouted at her from the deli. "Get your fanny over here. Your meatloaf and fries are almost ready!"
"I didn't order any food," Astrid hurried toward the door, fighting desperately to keep the tears at bay until she got outside.
"You're too damned skinny," Ophelia shouted. "This meatloaf needs to be eaten, and now."
"I don't have time," she yelled back, as she grabbed for the door—
The door opened, and she leapt back as Griffin stepped into the store. His dark eyes took in her expression, and his face grew concerned. "What's going on, Astrid?" He looked past her. "Did Eppie give you grief?"
"No, I'm fine." Astrid lifted her chin and gave him a cheeky grin. "I just got my period, and it always gets me emotional."
Griffin's eyes widened, and he got a pained look on his face. "Oh, well, yeah, okay, then." He stepped aside. "Clare and the girls went to the hardware store. She told me to tell you to come when you finished up with Eppie."
"Sure, okay." Astrid ducked her head as she raced past him, her throat tight. There was no way she was going to tag along with Clare and the girls. They were clearly on a roll, and Astrid knew that she wasn't a part of their vision. Not anymore.
Tears filled her eyes as she hurried down the steps to her car, and she recognized that aching void of loneliness filling her heart. She pressed her hand to her chest, as she reached her car, her lungs so tight she could barely breathe. "Dammit," she whispered, as she braced her hand on her car and leaned over, trying to catch her breath. "I'm not ready for this." A tear slid down her cheeks, and her hands started to shake. "I can't do this again—"
"Astrid?" The deep rumble of an already familiar male voice shot straight to her core as a strong hand settled on her lower back.
Jason Sarantos.
Dear God. She couldn't let him see her like this. No one got to see her fall apart.
Not ever.
Astrid's body went rigid beneath his hand the moment Jason spoke her name. He swore as she quickly moved out of reach, her hands up as if she could hold him at bay. Something dark rippled inside him, that same feeling he'd had so many times when his wife had shut him out.
Scowling, he shoved his hands into his pockets, but his irritation disappeared a moment later when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "Shit, Astrid. What happened?" He was instantly on the alert, and he glanced into the store, wondering what had stripped that cocky sparkle out of her eyes. He never would have guessed that she would ever sport a look of such vulnerability on her face. Protectiveness surged through him.
His wife had shut him out constantly, but he'd eventually realized that it was because she had nothing else to give other than to her work. But with Astrid, her emotions were so deep and powerful that he could practically feel them pulsing in the warm afternoon air.
She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing a warning to back off. "I just got my period. I always get emotional during it—"
Her voice faded, and he knew she was lying. He swore, a cold shadow descending over him at her evasiveness. He was all too familiar with lies—
Guilt flashed in her beautiful brown eyes. "I don't want to talk about it," she said quietly, abandoning the lie on her own.
He nodded, his tension easing. "I can respect that." Lies, no way. Privacy? Sure. He took in her pale complexion, the death grip she had on a crumpled letter in her hand, and knew it had been something major.
As much as he'd been compelled by her vivacious spirit, seeing her vulnerability made her suddenly so much more appealing. He was used to women who wanted and needed nothing from anyone, especially him. But Astrid's vulnerability was so raw and evident that it made him want to charge into her life and play the gallant rescuer and—