“Enjoy it for me. I’ll talk to you later.”
Her mom said goodbye, and Anna picked up her phone and checked the time. She still had five minutes before she had to get going, but she’d been desperate to end the uncomfortable conversation. And now I have just enough time to see if Clarissa has responded to my revisions.
She tapped her email icon, and her stomach quivered at the sight of a new message from her agent. She opened it, anxious to see what the woman had to say.
Hi Anna,
I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is it. Rowena still comes across as an adult. You say she’s seventeen, but she acts and speaks like she’s thirty. I’m going to have to set The Wicked Moon aside for now. Do you have anything else you’re working on? Stories with witches or werewolves are popular right now. I’d love to see something like that.
Let me know and take care,
Clarissa
Anna blinked, then reread the email. Her vision blurring, she turned off her phone and let the tears fall.
Chapter Eighteen
Matthew lifted the last milk can over Marshal’s tailgate, then slid it into line with all the others in the truck box. His parents’ yard light illuminated their shiny exteriors. He had to admit, they looked pretty good. His mom and her friends had cleaned them up nicely and wrapped white organza sashes around them. The tidy evergreen-coloured bows with fake white roses were the perfect touch.
His mom shuffled out of the shed with a massive cardboard box in her arms. Pussy willow branches with closed red buds poked out from the top. “Don’t forget these. We’ll stick them in the tops of the cans once they’re set up inside the barn.”
“Mom, where are your crutches?” He met her and took the box from her.
“They’re right there,” she gestured toward the crutches leaning against the side of the shed. “Stop worrying so much.”
“Start using them, you’re going to make your ankle worse.” He took the box to the truck and set it on the passenger seat, then closed the door. “What would Dad say if he saw you hobbling around here without them?”
“Alright, stop fussing. I’m the parent here.” She pressed her lips together, then grabbed the crutches and swung her way to the vehicle.
Matthew sighed and decided there was no point in arguing with her. “So, tomorrow’s the big decorating day, huh? Do you feel like everything you had planned is coming together?”
Paula leaned on her crutches, looking over the canisters one more time. “I think so. Sophie has a buffet table filled with holiday-themed treats planned—our first taste of sugar cookies for the year. We’ve got hot chocolate and Irish cream for the bar. Marshal is at the barn now, hanging the white lights and drapes.”
“Sounds like everything’s shaping up for a good night.”
She nodded. “You know, your skeleton crew did a great job cleaning up that barn. I hardly recognized it when I walked in there this morning. When I first saw it, I thought Katie was crazy to think it would be ready in less than a month. But you all proved me wrong.”
“Turns out I’m not completely useless with a power drill.”
“Or a broom,” she said with a wry smile. “Hopefully we can have more events there. It’s good for the town and for the Starlight Inn too. I bet on Monday the inn’s phones will be ringing off the hook with wedding bookings.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.”
His mom tapped one of her crutches on the gravel at their feet. “How is, umm, Anna, is it? Did she enjoy working on the barn project too?”
Matthew narrowed his eyes at her. “Why do you ask?”
She blinked at him innocently. “Oh, well, Marshal mentioned you were hanging around with her a bit. He said there was an incident with her dog and the chickens.”
His throat tightened. Anna had practically ignored him all week while they put the finishing touches on the barn. Every day he’d tried to talk to her so he could apologize for what happened and clear the confusion about Brittany, but as soon as he’d opened his mouth, she’d always had an excuse to leave the room—she’d needed to put away the painting supplies, help Sophie set up the buffet table. She’d even left to check the new gate on the dog kennel. Twice.
He hadn’t tried calling her again. She wouldn’t answer anyways, and he wanted to speak to her in person. But she was making it impossible. As each day went by, he’d felt worse and worse, mentally torturing himself every time she’d walked by and avoided his gaze.
“You know, Marshal’s just as big a gossip as you are.”
Paula pursed her lips, looking disappointed. “Aww, hon.” She moved beside him and patted his shoulder. “I was hoping you’d found someone nice. Someone to make you happy, like Marshal has with Sophie and Madison with Dylan.”
“You’ve got to stop comparing me to them, especially Marshal,” he replied dryly.
“I’m not comparing—”
“You and Dad have always compared me to him. I grew up in his shadow.” What am I doing, opening this can of worms? But he couldn’t stop. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to have him as a brother. For a long time, I tried to be like him, but it never worked. And when I set out to make my own life, you seemed happy.”
“We were, dear—”
“Until I lost my job,” he said, regretting his curt tone immediately. He rubbed his face with his palm, trying to think of how to word what he wanted to say. “It wasn’t my fault, you know. The company folded. It had nothing to do with me or my work ethic.”
Paula took a deep breath, her blue eyes misty with tears. “We know that, dear. Your dad and I, we aren’t disappointed in you. Only with the circumstances. The job loss and the break up, your whole world changing in one week.” She swallowed. “When you kids hurt, we do too.”
“I never meant to put that on you.”
“You don’t have to put it on us, it’s just how parenting works.” She paused. “You might find that out yourself one day.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. Not any time soon, anyways.” He gave her a sideways look, and he caved. “Things with Anna didn’t work out. Brittany showed up at the house while she was there.”
Paula’s face grew pale. “I’m so sorry. I told her where you were, but I didn’t know you had a guest over. She said she wanted to talk to you about that job in Vancouver, and you’d told me earlier that you were thinking about it. I thought . . .” She shook her head sadly. “What happened?”
“It’s not your fault,” Matthew said with a sigh. “Britanny should have warned me that she was coming. She rolled right in there, as if I’d be happy to see her, and introduced herself to Anna.”
“You didn’t—well, you didn’t accept the job, did you? Right in front of Anna?”
“No, of course not. Besides, Anna took her dog and tore out of there before I had a chance to say anything.”
“Oh, Matthew,” Paula replied in a hushed tone.
“I’m not taking the job anyways, Mom. I landed my first freelance client this morning.” He paused, thinking of the email he’d received from Anna’s author friend, Scott. “Somebody Anna suggested me to, actually.”
“Oh, that’s great news!”
Matthew swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “Anna talked me up to some of her author buddies. And instead of repaying the favour, I—”
“Oh, hon.” His mom cocked her head. “If you tell her the truth about what happened that night with Brittany—”
Matthew held up his hand. “That’s not the only thing. I broke her trust with her work too. She’d given me her new manuscript to critique, words she’d poured her sweat and tears into. And I misunderstood and sent it off to an agent friend of mine before she felt it was ready. All the while thinking she’d be grateful for my help.” He thumped his fist against the side of the truck. “Maybe I should try to be more like Marshal. Look how happy he makes Sophie. The man got chickens for her, for crying out loud.”
Paula chuckled, then reached out and squeezed his arm. �
�Do you like this girl?”
“Of course I do. A lot.”
“Then fix it.”
He turned and leaned his back against the truck. “And how do I do that? You and Dad have been married for thirty years. What’s your secret?”
“It’s not always sunshine and roses, dear,” she replied. “Heaven knows we can drive each other crazy some days.” She tilted her head. “But communication is a start. You need to at least talk to her and clear the air about everything that’s happened. And if she’s open to listening, you better try some honesty too. Let her know how you really feel. I imagine she’s confused as all heck right now, with your ex-girlfriend crashing your date.”
“And what if she won’t listen to me? If she shuts me down every time I say a peep to her and walks away like I’m carrying the plague?”
“Then maybe it wasn’t meant to be. And you have to let her go to make room for the right person.”
They were quiet for a moment. Matthew chewed on her words, his chest aching, and not feeling any closer to an answer than he was before.
“Just make it clear she matters to you, hon, and see what happens. At least then, you’ll know.” Paula wiped her hands on her jeans, then gestured toward the house. “Do you want to come inside and chat with Dad?”
Matthew patted the edge of the truck box and shook his head. “No, it’s getting late and I better get these to the inn. See you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early,” Paula replied. “Oh, would you be able to do me a favour?”
“What’s that?”
“Can you ask that Dane fellow, the stable manager, if he’s doing hay rides with the horses Saturday at the tree lighting? I sent him an email last week, and he hasn’t responded.”
“Hay rides?”
“Yes, dear. You know, with horses. And a wagon. Maybe some hay?”
Matthew raised his brows. “You are sassy tonight.” He replied, thinking back to his talk with Anna in the horse pasture last week. She loves sleigh rides. “And yeah, I’ll talk to Dane first thing.”
The familiar chimes tinkled above Anna’s head as she entered Steeped in Books, enjoying the comforting smell of herbs and new paper. On a mission for more of that green tea Christine had given her, she’d vowed she wouldn’t browse the shelves this time. Her temporary part-time job was about to end, and her wallet couldn’t take it.
Still, she glanced at the covers as she made her way toward the front counter. A bright cover with a couple entwined in a passionate embrace caught her eye, and she lifted her nose and kept marching. Romance was the last thing on her mind. She was making the most of her free afternoon before the busy weekend. And without having to beat her head against her Wicked Moon manuscript now, she could do whatever she wanted.
First up, tea and a nap. She reached the front counter, but Laura was helping a customer in the comic book section. She rang the bell, and Christine came rushing out from the back room.
“Anna! It’s so good to see you.” She patted her frizzy hair, then narrowed her eyes and looked Anna up and down. “What’s wrong?”
Anna forced a chuckle. “What do you mean what’s wrong? I’m here for a bit more tea. I drank all the stuff you gave me already. The green jasmine with the rose petals, I loved it.”
“Something’s wrong. Your energy—it’s off.”
“Right. Okay.” What am I supposed to say to that? You’re right, I lost my agent. I’m probably moving home with my mother. I foolishly fell for another jerk. My life is an even bigger mess than it was before.
Christine leaned over the counter to peer at her closely. “Oh, dear. It’s heartbreak, isn’t it? Is it something to do with Marshal’s brother?”
Anna’s breath caught, and she adjusted the shoulder strap of her tote bag. “Oh, Christine.”
“If you don’t want to share, you don’t have to. But I have something that might help.” Christine grabbed one of the brown paper tea bags and turned to browse the tea selections on the shelf behind her. “Here,” she took a scoop from a basket on the end of the row, “this one has valerian root in it. It will bring you restorative sleep and sweet dreams to heal your soul.”
Anna pushed her glasses up her nose, watching Christine as she filled the bag with tea leaves. “That’s exactly what I need. How did you guess?”
Christine replaced the scoop and bent the top of the bag over, then returned to the till and set the tea on the counter. “You look tired, dear. It’s Friday—your afternoon off, right? Some sleep would do you good.”
Anna opened the top of the bag and breathed in the alluring scent of valerian and chamomile. “You have no idea. I’ve barely slept all week.” She paused, letting the comforting atmosphere wash over her. “This smell—it’s amazing. I feel calmer already. How much do I owe you for this?”
Christine waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. I hope it helps.”
“You’ll end up broke if you keep giving your tea away,” Anna replied.
“You can repay me with a signed copy of your book one day.” Christine winked.
Anna lowered her gaze and refolded the top of the paper bag. “You’ll be waiting a long time for that. My agent dropped The Wicked Moon.”
Christine took her hand and patted it. “I’m so sorry, Anna. No wonder you’re exhausted.”
Tears pushed at the edges of Anna’s eyes. She hadn’t told anybody yet, not even her sister. It was too raw, especially after what had happened with Matthew. All week, she’d kept her phone in the top drawer of her dresser and avoided everybody’s calls. And she hadn’t missed the looks Tad and Sophie exchanged while at her shift in the kitchen. Her cheeks burned as she thought back to the last few days. She’d been quiet, barely acknowledging Tad’s jokes and Sophie’s attempts to engage her in conversation.
How could I be so rude? I need to stop pushing everybody away. I have to apologize to them tomorrow.
Now though, in the comfort of the cozy shop, it was like the floodgates to her emotions had opened. She sniffed. “After how hard I worked, Clarissa still let me go. First, writing the darn book, then rewriting it over and over again to meet her expectations. Did you know I even switched the age group?” She shook her head. “As if this story could have ever taken place while Rowena was a teen.”
“She made you do all that work, and then dropped you?”
Anna wiped beneath her eye and nodded. “Yup. Now she wants a whole new book.” She took a breath. “And I have one started. But it’s not in a genre she’s interested in.”
In fact, she’d thrown herself into her new story every night that week. For once, she’d had no pressure. No looming deadline or agent’s requirements to meet. She’d been able to let her mind wander onto that mountain trail and, at least for a moment, escape the dark reality of her situation.
“And you know what? It’s actually good. All the new stuff I wrote this week, it spoke to me. But Matthew—” she pulled her hand from Christine’s and made a fist— “I trusted him to help me, and he sent my first three chapters to an agent already! An early draft of them, as if they were ready for critique.” Anna swallowed, thinking of Brittany telling her last Friday that the agent had liked the chapters. Had she really meant that? Or was she only trying to smooth over the awkward moment? Anna had been stewing over those words all week, too anxious to put any faith in them. “It could be another hit to my writing resumé.”
She ached at the thought of Matthew and his mussed-up hair and stupid dimple. She’d managed to avoid him all week at work, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t longed to speak with him. But what could she say? Every time he’d walked into that barn, she’d caught herself thinking about his hearty laughter at the book club meeting, their talk in the horse pasture and the way his hazel eyes lit up when she’d approved of the steak he’d cooked for her, and how perfectly she had fit in his arms that moment on the street—when they’d kissed in the light of the street lamp outside her door.
She flicked her gaze to Christine, sure
that the pain on her face was evident. “His ex-girlfriend came to his house while I was there for dinner.”
Christine reached across the counter and squeezed her forearm. “I’m not an author, and I’ve been single for twenty-five years. But I am a decent judge of character, and I’ve known the Talbots since Matthew was a child. They’re good people. And Matthew knows the publishing industry well. If he’s willing to share your work with an agent he respects, he must be confident in it.”
Anna hadn’t thought of it that way before. Her stomach churned as she mulled over Christine’s words. Matthew is a professional. Would he be willing to risk his reputation on a less-than-quality recommendation?
“Maybe you’re right.”
“That’s not to say you have to make amends with him, but I sensed something special when you two were together. A strong aura, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
Anna tilted her head. “An aura isn’t exactly enough for me.”
Christine let out a soft laugh. “That’s probably a good thing. But, do you think there might be some miscommunication? I find it’s usually better to assume people have good intentions, even if they go about things the wrong way.”
Anna bit the inside of her lip. “Maybe. I didn’t exactly stick around to talk. He’s been trying to speak to me at work, but I’ve been avoiding him.” Which is not exactly fair, is it?
“Do you think it would be good to hear him out? To find out what really happened, and how he really feels?”
“At this point, I’m not sure if he’d be willing to. I’ve given him the cold shoulder all week.”
Christine patted her arm again, then pushed the bag of tea into Anna’s hand. “Give him some credit. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Anna gathered the tea and put it in her tote bag. “Thank you, Christine. For the tea and the kind words.”
“Any time.” Christine reached beneath the counter and pulled out a rectangular box the size of her hand. A moon and stars were painted on the lid. “If you ever want to do a tarot reading, I’m getting quite good at corresponding with the universe.”
Novel Dreams Page 14