“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.
“So what do we need to do before the painted hearts exhibit opens?” she asked.
Later that night, Evelyn stood in the lobby of the Loves Park Museum working up the courage to go inside. Thankfully Evelyn wouldn’t need to get on a stage, and according to Gigi, Trevor wouldn’t be in attendance.
Still, Evelyn would be asked about the artist-in-residence position. She would be expected to mingle. She needed to be kind, polite, and charming. It smacked of the life she’d left behind.
The outer door opened, cool air rushing in. She turned and saw Abigail with her fiancé, Dr. Jacob Willoughby. Her friend looked so happy, it was hard to believe that her own closed door had once seemed like the end of the world.
Would Evelyn ever feel that way about her old life? Would she ever look back, thankful for the pain she’d endured the day the FBI showed up at her door?
More importantly, would she ever find herself in the rubble left behind?
She’d tried to stop overanalyzing it all, as Ursula said, and simply pay attention to when she was comfortable and when she wasn’t, but she had trouble trusting herself, even when her guard was up.
“Evelyn?” Abigail moved toward her, Jacob close behind. “What are you doing out here? You’re the woman of the hour.”
Evelyn forced a smile. “Just working up the courage.”
“I’ll hang our coats,” Jacob said. “Then we’ll all go in together.”
Evelyn nodded. It would be preferable not to go it alone. She drew in a breath.
“You’re not going to have a panic attack, are you?”
For the first time, Evelyn realized it had been weeks since she’d taken her medication—and the same length of time since she’d suffered an attack. In spite of her circumstances, she’d remained at peace.
Somehow she didn’t think it was a coincidence that her anxiety lessened when she started praying again.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” Evelyn said.
Abigail raised an eyebrow. “What did I tell you?”
“Not to overthink everything.”
“You’ve been thinking about not overthinking?” Abigail grinned. “That’s a good strategy.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Ursula hangs around The Paper Heart a lot,” Abigail continued. “Sometimes she just randomly shouts advice like that at me while I’m trying to work. She’s brash, but she knows her stuff.”
Evelyn nodded.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Abigail said. “But why did you move out of the Whitneys’ guesthouse? My understanding was that Trevor let you live there for free. What’s really going on?”
But before she could answer, the door opened again, this time revealing an all-too-familiar silhouette. Trevor stopped, eyes glued to Evelyn. It had been weeks since they’d seen each other. Weeks since he’d rejected her, weeks since Christopher had told her he’d been a willing participant in her husband’s betrayal.
Now, standing there, stunned, she didn’t know how to feel. She’d told herself the time apart would clear her mind, but she was still waiting to find that elusive clarity.
When Jacob returned from the coatroom, he moved toward Whit, stretched out his hand, and said something about how good it was to see him.
“Are you okay?” Abigail whispered. “You look pale.”
Evelyn turned away. “I’m fine.”
Jacob and Whit approached, stealing Abigail’s attention and leaving Evelyn feeling exposed. “We can all go in together,” Jacob said. “It’s probably going to be a bunch of blue-hairs in there anyway.”
“I resent that, Dr. Willoughby,” Gigi said, appearing as if from thin air. “It’s us blue-hairs that keep you in business.” She opened the door to the gallery. “Hurry up, you slowpokes.” And just like that, she was gone.
Abigail giggled, linking arms with her good doctor. “She told you.”
Ja
cob and Abigail moved together, in unison, in a way Evelyn and Christopher never had. They were equally in love. One of them wasn’t working harder than the other.
Was it wrong of her to wish for that? Regret twisted through her, wrapping itself around her heart. With Jacob and Abigail in front of them, Trevor and Evelyn also fell into step.
As they moved into the dimly lit gallery, his hand brushed against hers and the memory of his kiss haunted her mind.
“I’ve been calling you,” he said, walking through the crowd, face forward.
Mayor Jensen Thompkins approached them. “It’s so good to have you both here. You’ve breathed new life into our little tradition. And, Evelyn, we are so thrilled to have you as our artist in residence. We have big plans for you.”
Evelyn avoided Trevor’s eyes. “Actually, Mayor Thompkins, I haven’t officially accepted that position.”
He regarded her for a long moment. “Well, I’m afraid if it isn’t you, we won’t have the money to work with, and we’ve already begun brainstorming the areas where we could use your artistic skill. Someone suggested painting the ugly electrical boxes around town. The metal ones on the street corners. And someone else was hoping for painted pianos all throughout Old Town.”
Trevor towered over both of them, and while he pretended not to listen, Evelyn had the distinct feeling he was paying attention.
“There are so many artists in town. I’m sure any one of them would jump at this chance,” Evelyn said.
“I’m sure. Which is why it’s positively baffling that you’re still thinking about it.” The mayor squinted at her. “The anonymous benefactor who is supplying the funds to make this position possible was very clear. He or she wanted it to be you. Or nobody. Please don’t let it be nobody, Mrs. Brandt.”
She shook his hand, and he walked away, but he’d done nothing to shed light on any of this.
“What was that all about?” Trevor asked.
She met his eyes, but then Christopher’s words rushed back at her. “He’s known from the beginning, and he never said a word.”
She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was better off alone.
On the other side of the room, she spotted Ursula, wearing a long skirt with a long tunic top and a pair of running shoes. “Will you excuse me?”
Trevor put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Before you go, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
She forced herself to be brave. “We really don’t have anything to discuss, Whit.”
“It’s important.”
“What do you want to tell me? That you knew the truth about Christopher all along and never bothered to say a single word to me about it?”
For a split second, he looked like someone had smacked him across the face.
So it was true. The realization stung. Christopher had been lying for as long as she’d known him, but this time she would’ve preferred he not tell her the truth.
She forced herself to pretend not to care, though inside, her heart was breaking. “I know all about it already, so if you came to apologize, you’re too late.”
“You’ve got to let me explain,” he said.
An ache formed deep in the back of her throat. “I can’t believe I actually thought you might be different.” Evelyn raised her chin as if that would make her appear stronger. “You really had me fooled, but the truth is, you’re just like Christopher. You’re all the same.”
Evelyn felt a hand on her shoulder. “There are a few people who would like to speak with the artist,” Gigi said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Whitney.”
Trevor shook his head. “It’s fine, Mrs. Monroe. I shouldn’t have come.” He walked away, leaving Evelyn standing there, on the verge of a full-on panic attack, and yet, with Gigi’s hand to steady her, her pulse began to slow.
“What’s going on, Evie?” Gigi asked, her voice quiet.
Evelyn faced her. “First, you.”
The old woman frowned. “Me what?”
“Tell me the truth. Was it you and Ursula who concocted this artist-in-residence plan? The mayor told me whoever is funding it requires that I be the artist. That hardly seems right.”
“Why ever not?” Gigi asked. “Look around. Your art is exciting. It gets people talking.”
For a moment, Evelyn allowed herself to scan the crowd. Gigi was right. People were excited. So excited they were already ordering their own painted hearts. The plan had worked—a tradition that had nearly been forgotten was reborn, and Evelyn had a lot to do with that.
Evelyn and Whit.
She turned back to Gigi. “You didn’t answer my question. I know Ursula is richer than the queen of Sheba.”
“That might be true, dear, but I can assure you, this was not our doing. We do think it’s perfect timing, and frankly, we’re happy to put you to work, but we are not the ones footing the bill.”
Evelyn frowned. “Then who would do this for me?”
“The senator?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. He’s living on a fixed income that amounts to almost nothing, at least by his standards. Besides, he’s got himself believing I’m the bad guy. He would never do something like this.”
“Well, I don’t know then,” Gigi said. “Ask the mayor if you want. Or just be thankful someone had the good sense to believe in your dreams. Goodness knows you certainly don’t.”
Evelyn’s only response was silence.
“Now, what in the world is going on with you and Mr. Whitney?”
Evelyn sighed. As if she had any idea how to answer that question. But she could tell by the look on Gigi’s face that anything but the truth wasn’t going to satisfy the old woman.
CHAPTER
41
TREVOR WALKED A CIRCLE in the parking lot outside the Loves Park Museum. He hadn’t even walked through the exhibit, his shame and regret too heavy to carry under Evelyn’s watchfulness.
Actually, that wasn’t right. Evelyn appeared to be watching everyone except him. In fact, she didn’t seem at all interested in anything he had to say.
She already knew. He should’ve told her days ago. Years ago. What an idiot!
Trevor started back toward the door but lost his nerve halfway there. He turned around, avoiding the stares of a young couple walking toward the building. He probably looked like a lunatic with all his back-and-forthing. He should leave. He should go home to the farm, where it was quiet and Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.
But then, the farm was quiet. And Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.
Was he going to roll over just like that? Let her believe whatever lies Chris had fed her?
Oh no. What exactly had Chris told her? Could it be even worse than the truth? And how could he just let her go on believing it?
He had to tell her the truth. The real truth.
“Whit?” Casey hurried toward him, Marin right behind. “What are you doing out here, man?”
Trevor shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Did you tell her?” Marin’s voice was hopeful. She’d been married so long she’d forgotten how miserable falling in love could be.
“Didn’t get a chance,” Trevor said. “Chris got to her first.”
Casey clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, man.”
“Yeah. She never wants to see me again.” Trevor turned toward his truck. “I’m just going to go home.”
“Don’t be a coward,” Marin said. She moved around him, planted her feet, and stared him down, barely reaching his shoulders. “What have you got to lose?”
Trevor stared out into the darkness of Old Town.
Marin waited until he finally glanced at her. “If she never wants to see you again, then you have nothing to lose.” She took a step toward him, eyes angled upward, forcing his gaze. “Stop hiding your feelings, Whit, and go after what you want.”
He glanced at Casey, who offered nothing but a half shrug.
Marin started for the mus
eum door, then stopped, turned back, and stared at Trevor. “Well?”
He kicked a rock beneath his feet and began moving in her direction.
Marin was right. He didn’t have to stand back and watch his life happen in front of him. He could actually become a part of it every now and then.
Besides, she was only saying what he already knew. He had no reason not to tell Evelyn the truth. And he wouldn’t find a bit of peace until he did.
He drew in a deep breath and followed Casey and Marin to the door. As he walked through, Trevor suddenly felt the stranglehold of his collared shirt, too tight for his neck.
“You look like you’re going to puke,” Casey said, taking Marin’s coat.
“That’s about right,” Trevor said.
Marin put a hand on his arm. “You really love her, don’t you?”
Trevor ignored the question. The last thing he needed was Casey’s wife romanticizing his feelings for Evelyn. They weren’t romantic. They were pathetic. And the only reason he was standing there at all was because he didn’t want her taking Chris’s word on everything he’d done, even if it was accurate. If anyone was going to explain the truth, it was going to be him.
Why, then, did he feel like he might lose his dinner?
Trevor opened the door to the gallery and walked inside. The crowd had grown in the twenty minutes he’d been outside, and as he searched for Evelyn, the occasional pat on the back or “Good job” required his attention.
In a corner, away from the crowd, Evelyn sat at the center of a small group of women. The older ladies who seemed intent on ruining his life caught his attention as he approached, and the closer he got, the clearer it became that they weren’t happy with him.
What have I got to lose? he reminded himself. He didn’t care what these women thought anyway. It had always only been Evelyn’s opinion that mattered to him.
He reached the table and stood for a long moment. “Evie?”
Five pairs of eyes darted from her to him and back again. His stayed fixed on Evelyn, who barely moved.
Change of Heart Page 29