| |
Harper pushed open her door with a groan, stumbling inside. Her purse plummeted to the floor but her keys managed to land on the small side table, though they did miss the dish she usually kept them in.
Making her way to the couch, she fell into it, burying her face in a pillow. This had to be the worst day in the history of her life. It might even top losing her grandmother too early or having her parents get divorced.
Being told she only had a month in order to sink or swim had caught Harper completely off guard. She had no idea how she was going to do it. Should she go ahead and enter the competition? Would that matter in the end? Maybe she needed to spend her time building up her online orders. Should she run ads? Who would she target?
A low groan slipped through her lips. How did her life get to be such a mess? She had worked so hard during school, keeping up a part-time job in order to pay for the things her trust didn’t cover, and eventually leaving home to build a life here.
She had wonderful friends, had a crush on an amazing guy, even if he was only a dream at this point, and had built her art business up to about half of her monthly income. Neither her art, nor the trust were quite enough to live on, but combined, she had enough to be comfortable. And it was wonderful. Yes, she wanted to make a full-time living at her art, but she had faith she would get there.
“Just not in a month,” Harper whispered to her dark home. For another fifteen minutes, her mind swam. What could she do in such a short amount of time? Her heart sped up and she felt sweat bead at her hairline when she realized she had no choice.
I’ll have to win that competition.
Nothing else would be fast enough. Harper planned to do her best to build up her sales, but the odds of being able to double her income within just a few short weeks was almost impossible. Winning an award, however, could be a boost that could launch a career to the top.
She sat up, feeling three times her age, but forcing her stiff body to move. Walking down the hall, she opened her studio and turned on the light. Life would be a lot easier if Harper could find a painting she already had ready, rather than starting from scratch.
She began searching through the stacks of canvases piled along one wall. They were all so similar to each other that looking at one was like looking at the other. Harper had learned what people enjoyed in her area and had catered to it. Her first foray into something different was those food pictures, the very ones she had sold just this afternoon.
Disgusted, Harper let the canvases fall back into line and stomped out of the room, heading straight to the fridge. Half a slice of Aspen’s mint chocolate cake was in there and if there had ever been a need for sugar, it was now.
Harper practically threw the door off the hinges when she jerked the door open. Grabbing the box, she slammed the door, snatched a fork out of the drawer and threw herself at a chair. The first bite that landed in her mouth was much bigger than anyone would consider polite, but Harper didn’t care. She didn’t need manners. She needed to figure out how to win a competition she had no chance of winning.
While trying to chew, she stabbed at the cake, turning it into broken little pieces. Just like my life, she thought bitterly.
Closing her eyes, Harper hung her head. This was stupid. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered through her bite. Everything was wrong and Harper found herself wanting to curl up in a ball and cry.
“It won’t help,” she whispered, shoving another bite in her mouth. “It won’t help.” She barely got the last word out, her emotions choking her and making the cake taste like dirt.
She hated this. She hated feeling lost and unable to fix anything. She hated feeling like she was at her mother’s mercy. She hated the fact that her paintings were boring and all the same. She hated that her heart had chosen to yearn for someone she couldn’t have. She hated...
“I hate that I’m not doing anything about it.”
Harper shook her head. None of this would help. She wasn’t a victim. She had spent years going against her mother’s wishes in order to try and live her own life and Harper didn’t want to give up all that progress now. She couldn’t.
Her hand tightened on the fork to the point that the metal began to dig into her skin. She wasn’t a quitter. She might be struggling tonight, but that didn’t mean it had to stay that way. Slowly, Harper straightened her back. She took in a deep breath, expanding her chest as far as it would go before slowly letting it out. A month. She had a whole month. There was no need to panic. She would revamp her website. She would look into advertising. She would ask about putting her art in local shops and restaurants.
And I’ll paint something new and amazing for the competition.
She nodded firmly. She hadn’t come this far, to only come this far. Closing the container, Harper put the cake back in the fridge and grabbed a sketch pad and pencil. She was going to design something completely new. Something fresh and bright. Something that would catch the judge’s eye and give her the very attention she needed to save her business.
Harper bit the eraser, her mind jumping back and forth as she tried to settle on a specific design, but it was all a muddled mess. She needed to move. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. It was a little late, but she lived in a quiet neighborhood and the fresh air would do her good.
Harper turned right from her driveway and marched down the street. She let her eyes wander across the dark asphalt, noting the outline of picturesque cottages and clean-cut landscaping. Nothing around her was fancy, but it always looked nice. She knew if she took another turn, she would hit the boardwalk after a while. The ocean would be roaring, going about its business as if the world wasn’t falling apart at Harper’s feet.
She paused at the end of the street. Maybe a walk wasn’t exactly what she needed. Maybe it was sleep. She’d had a long day. She was emotionally spent and she was still frustrated with the situation. She needed her strength in order to handle the next four weeks.
Spinning on her heel, she went home. Her mailbox caught her attention as she arrived at her driveway and Harper stopped to check it. A pile of envelopes was inside and she grabbed them, closing the box and heading inside.
Once in the light, she flipped through, feeling a surge of excitement when she found a check from a small exhibit she had been a part of a few months ago. She hadn’t sold much, but right now every bit would help.
Continuing through, she paused. One of the envelopes was addressed to Mason Turley. “What in the world?” Harper looked at the return address and realized it was from one of the outdoor vendor markets they had both been a part of. Somehow, they had mixed up hers and Mason’s addresses. They were probably the only two people at the market from Seagull Cove.
Harper shook her head. Whatever. First thing in the morning, she’d deliver his mail, and then bury herself in the cottage and get straight to work. Her whole future depended on it.
*****
MASON PUSHED HIMSELF away from his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted. Today’s work had been all consuming and every one of his contracts seemed to have concerns or business troubles. He’d talked two CEO’s off the cliff and nearly had to renegotiate his terms with several others. This is why he liked to think things out before making a move. If the businesses he was working with would simply take the time to monitor their workers, they wouldn’t have such internal turmoil right now and their contracts wouldn’t be in danger.
He stood and walked to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Resting one hand against the sink, he stared out the dark window, wishing his life was as peaceful as the woods seemed to be in his backyard. He had another exhibition coming up in a few days and unless things calmed down, it wasn’t going to be nearly as fun as normal.
His mind kept going back to his conversation last night with Jason. He had a lead on Aimee, but the details were fuzzy. He had promised to call back soon, but Mason couldn’t seem to relax. Between work, Harper and now this...he felt as if he might explode at any moment.
Heading to the fridge, he grabbed the ingredients for making a sandwich. Maybe food would help him calm down. He had just finished building his third sandwich when his phone buzzed. At first, Mason ignored it and stood leaning against the counters, biting off half a sandwich with a single bite, but when the phone went off again, he yanked it out of his pocket. “Yeah?” he asked with peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Mason.”
Mason paused. “Crew?”
“Yeah.” Crew’s voice was wrong. He sounded so serious, which was completely unlike Mason’s upbeat brother.
“What’s going on? You don’t seem yourself.” What sounded like a sob broke through the line and Mason dropped his sandwich, clutching the phone with both hands. “What’s going on?” he demanded again.
“It’s...Aimee.”
Mason froze. How had Crew heard anything before him? Why hadn’t Jason called back? “Did they find her?” he whispered hoarsely. “Is she with Mom and Dad?”
Crew took in a shuddering breath. “She was killed in a car accident,” he managed to get out.
Mason crumpled to his knees. The pain of hitting the hardwood should have jolted all the way to his shoulders, but he barely felt anything. “What?” The word was barely audible, but Crew must have heard because he responded immediately.
“She gave the first responders Mom and Dad’s number,” Crew explained. “But she died before they even got to the hospital.” He coughed. “Internal bleeding.”
Mason’s hand was shaking so hard he could barely hold the phone to his ear. “Where was she?”
There was a long pause and he began to wonder if Crew had heard the question. “Seattle.”
Mason closed his eyes. So close. She had been so close. A short plane ride would have gotten him to her side at any time, but he hadn’t even known she was there. A black hole opened up in his chest and he was positive his heart would stop beating any moment. He had loved Aimee. As the older brother, he had taken care of both Crew and Aimee, looking out for their safety and keeping them in line. Aimee had been so much younger that she had required a lot more help than Crew had, but Mason had been glad to give it.
And now Crew was saying his baby sister was dead.
It didn’t seem real. This had to be some kind of joke. Sweet, laughing, bright Aimee couldn’t be dead.
“How did it happen?” Mason asked quietly. His mind couldn’t seem to catch up with what he was hearing. How could such a brilliant star suddenly be gone? She had her problems, but Mason had been sure once her wild oats had been sown, she’d come back home as if nothing had ever happened. She would snort in amusement at dinner, mortifying their mother. She would punch Mason’s arm and tease him about being bigger than the Jolly Green Giant. She would smile and throw her hair over her shoulder, making every guy in the vicinity take notice.
“I’m not sure,” Crew admitted. “I was only given the bare details.” He sniffed. “Mom wants us both home tomorrow.”
Mason’s head hung to his chest. “I’ll have to find a flight.”
“Yeah...me too,” Crew said. “I called you before checking.”
“I just...” Mason swallowed. His throat felt dry, and he felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what.
“I know,” Crew assured him. “I feel the same way.” He sighed. “Want me to fly by way of Portland? I’m sure I can find something that’ll have a stop there.”
“Nah. Head straight over, if you can. Mom will need you.” Mason cleared his throat. “She’s going to be catatonic.”
“Alright. I’ll text you my flight details.”
“Sounds good.” Mason closed his eyes. “I’ll do the same. And Crew?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for calling.”
Crew didn’t answer right away and his voice was more fragile than before when he said, “Sure. See you tomorrow.”
Mason hung up and let the phone fall to the floor. He didn’t even care if the screen cracked. Falling onto his backside, he leaned against the stove. His entire world had just taken a nosedive and Mason wasn’t sure what to do first. “The flight,” he whispered. “I need to book a flight.” Picking his phone back up, Mason used numb fingers to find and book the first one he could find. He’d arrive home tomorrow evening.
Home. He hadn’t been home in years and never without Aimee there. Would the house feel empty without Aimee’s presence? Would her essence be tangible? Would Mother be walking around as if nothing had happened or would she be willing to admit that the loss of her wayward child had hurt her deeply? His intensely Southern mother could be an Emmy-award-winning actress when her pride was at stake.
Mason scrubbed his face. He had been tired before, but now he was broken. His eyes swam with tears and he didn’t bother to wipe them away. His sister had just died. He figured he had the right to cry for a bit before pulling himself together and packing.
No matter how tired he was, he knew there would be no sleeping. On the plus side, that would give him plenty of time to shoot off some emails and make sure his boss knew he was taking a few personal days. He had no idea how long he’d be gone, but it would at least be through the funeral and after that, Mason would have to figure out what he was doing next.
He sighed. Work. He needed to get to work. With a deep breath, he pushed himself up. Time to start closing the loose threads. He had a family to take care of.