Change of Heart

by Courtney Walsh

  And she liked Alex.

  Thankfully, Alex liked her too. She’d offered to represent her and to get to work trying to sell Silly Lily to publishers. Would it be easy? No. But it didn’t matter. Evelyn had taken the first step toward following her heart—and she couldn’t put a price on that if she tried.

  As she drove back to Loves Park, she realized her excitement was short-lived. She wanted to pick up the phone and tell someone about her meeting, her revelations, her dreams—but the person she wanted to tell was the same person she’d given up talking to.

  Trevor’s betrayal had hit her hard, so why was she even considering dialing his number? She’d determined not to get involved with men who lied or told half-truths ever again.

  That evening, she walked into The Paper Heart for a meeting of the Valentine Volunteers. Gigi and Doris rushed toward her as soon as she came in.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Gigi said, handing her a warm drink. “To celebrate.”

  Doris scrunched her nose. “I called Alex. The suspense was killing me.”

  Evelyn smiled and let Gigi pull her into a maternal hug. “Congratulations, dear.”

  “Thank you,” Evelyn said, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the unlikely friendship of these women.

  “We want to hear all the details.” Gigi ushered her to their usual table. “But first, we have some business to attend to.”

  As Evelyn sat at the table, she discovered they had their easel out, and Trevor’s photo was on it again.

  “What are you doing?” Evelyn asked.

  “It’s almost Valentine’s Day,” Tess said. “And if you don’t want Trevor Whitney, we’ve thought of about ten other women who would.”

  Evelyn felt her eyes widen. “What does that mean? If I don’t want him?”

  A quiet beat passed around their circle.

  “Gigi was eavesdropping again,” Ursula said.

  “Oh, I was not,” Gigi argued. “I might’ve accidentally stumbled into a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear, but that is not eavesdropping.”

  Evelyn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Gigi sighed. “That night at the gallery showing of the hearts. It’s been a while now, and I didn’t want to say anything because you’ve been doing so well.”

  Evelyn only stared.

  “We know about you and Trevor,” Tess said matter-of-factly.

  Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t know what you think you know but . . .”

  “We know he loves you,” Abigail said. “And we thought you loved him too.”

  Evelyn put her hands up as if that could stop this conversation. “I think you’ve been misinformed.”

  Their collective glare unnerved her. No one spoke, but she had the feeling they’d pieced together a lot more of this story than she ever wanted them to know.

  She compacted her lips. “So you want to match Trevor?”

  They stared at her. She knew this game. They were trying to get her to admit to something she was determined not to admit. Or feel. Or even consider.

  Trevor Whitney had no place in her future.

  “Let’s see who you’ve found for him,” Evelyn said.

  Their confused expressions told her this wasn’t what they’d expected.

  Tess stuttered as she rummaged through a file, then pulled out a small stack of photos. She affixed them to the whiteboard with small black magnets, moving slowly as if waiting for Evelyn to protest.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she led the discussion about the pros and cons of each young woman they’d found as a possible match for her old friend Trevor Whitney. Some she discarded as too young, too old, too experienced. When she finished, they were left with three possible options.

  “There. Any of those women would be great for Whit,” Evelyn said. “Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had about all the matchmaking I can handle for one day.”

  CHAPTER

  45

  SADNESS OVERWHELMED the solace of the loft above The Paper Heart. Evelyn thought she’d put up a great front, but her heart had protested with every word.

  She didn’t want the Volunteers to match Trevor. Not that she didn’t want him to be happy—she did. She just wanted him to be happy with her.

  And she hated herself for it.

  He’d been so awful, the way he’d hidden Christopher’s unfaithfulness. How would she ever trust him again?

  She took out one of the wooden hearts she’d kept from the Sweetheart Festival and stared at it for a long time. He’d made this. His hands had cut the wood slats and stained each individual one. He’d created something beautiful out of something ordinary.

  He had a knack for that.

  She certainly felt beautiful when she was with him. Yet she knew she was the most ordinary of all.

  She pulled out the messages she had left to paint and sat at the table. Some she’d assigned to other artists. Some she’d kept for herself. All new messages passed through her as artist in residence, but so far, she hadn’t seen any come in with the lyrics to their song.

  She rolled her eyes. Their song. Like they had such a thing.

  She flipped through the newest messages as if double-checking might change the fact that Trevor hadn’t purchased a heart this year. Why would he?

  “Evelyn?”

  She spun around in her chair to find Ursula standing at the top of the stairs.

  “You scared me,” she said.

  “I get that a lot.”

  Evelyn watched as the old woman lumbered over to the patchwork armchair Evelyn had positioned in one corner of the room. She plopped down, and Evelyn wondered how many people it would take to get her back up.

  “This thing between you and Mr. Whitney,” Ursula said. “It’s annoying.”

  Evelyn frowned, thankful for the space between her and Ursula. Not that it did anything to protect her. “There is no ‘thing’ between me and Trevor.”

  “Don’t think you’re fooling anybody with that charade downstairs.”

  “You were all intent on matching him,” Evelyn said, picking up her pencil. “I only thought I should do my part since I’m the one who knows him best.”

  She could sense the old lady eyeing her. Suddenly she felt like the little girl she’d created for her children’s book, a girl who cowered at first from the mean, crotchety old woman who lived down the block.

  She dared a glance at Ursula.

  Yep. Still watching her.

  “Do you have something to say?” Evelyn asked, pretending to sketch on the wooden heart.

  “You’re right. You do know him best, which is why I find it suspicious that the three women you settled on are the exact same three we all discarded on the first pass.”

  “What are you talking about?” She stopped fake sketching and looked at Ursula.

  “It was a test,” she said. “You failed.”

  “I have no idea what you’re—”

  “Stop. You’re embarrassing yourself.” Ursula sank deeper into the chair. “We set you up. You picked the three women we knew were a terrible match for Trevor Whitney, just like I said you would.”

  Evelyn pulled her hair into a low ponytail and fastened an elastic around it. “I think you’re mistaken. I discarded women who were too old or too young or—”

  “Too likely?”

  She met Ursula’s eyes.

  “You have yourself convinced you’re better off without that man, and maybe you are.”

  Evelyn looked away.

  “But what if you’re not? What if you’ve forgotten all the good things he’s done because you’ve chosen to pay attention to the one small thing he did wrong?”

  “It was not a small thing,” Evelyn said, her voice shaky.

  “You got hurt.” Ursula hugged her bigger-than-a-toddler purse. “I get it. But how much of that hurt can really be blamed on Trevor?”

  Evelyn squeezed the bridge of her nose to keep from crying. She didn’t want to dredge all
this up. Not today—a day that had started off so well.

  “I know you know the answer,” Ursula said, scooting forward in the chair. “He’s probably not going to come calling again, so maybe now it’s your turn to make the gesture.”

  Evelyn lowered her hand. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “I told him I didn’t want to ever see him again.”

  “And?”

  Evelyn sniffed. “And I meant it.”

  The old woman squinted at her. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You think you’re not, but how many times have you gone over those hearts looking for the one Trevor purchased for you?”

  Boy, they really did know everything, didn’t they?

  “That kid has done an awful lot to show you how much he cares about you.” She scooted forward again. “It’s your turn now.”

  Evelyn scrolled through a mental list of memories—all the times Trevor had been there for her. It started years ago, in high school, and it carried all the way to just a few short weeks ago.

  She was angry that he’d kept the truth about Christopher from her, but was it possible he had done it—in part, at least—for her? She couldn’t say how she would’ve reacted if he’d said anything all those years ago.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, hoping it was enough to get the old woman out of her studio.

  “Great,” Ursula said. “And if Gigi asked, I was never here.”

  Evelyn frowned.

  “She won’t believe me when I tell her I wasn’t meddling, which we all agreed not to do.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Not when God tells you to make a point.” Ursula raised her brows. “And he did, in case you’re wondering.”

  Evelyn had a hard time believing God would use Ursula to make a point, but stranger things had happened.

  “I won’t say anything,” Evelyn said.

  “Good.” She paused. “Now, can you help me out of this chair?”

  CHAPTER

  46

  A WEEK BEFORE VALENTINE’S DAY, Evelyn hurried to get ready for a meeting at the hospital to discuss the mural for the children’s wing.

  She hadn’t heard from the mayor since their last meeting, but she assumed he’d accepted her terms.

  Evelyn pulled on a pair of fitted jeans, an ivory camisole, and a burgundy jacket with cuffed sleeves. Her burgundy ballet flats and a chunky bracelet completed the outfit and had her feeling ready to stand up to Georgina all over again if she had to.

  She drove to the hospital, Ursula’s words running through her mind. To her dismay, she’d thought of little else all week. She’d finished all the painted hearts thinking about them. She’d gone to bed thinking about them. She’d woken up thinking about them.

  And she hated that this crabby old woman knew the truth before she even knew it herself.

  Regardless, she’d determined not to act on feelings that would probably only end up hurting her again down the road. Instead, she busied herself with her work. Not that she could call creating art “work.” Despite so much of her life having fallen apart, she had to admit she was happier than she’d been in a very long time.

  Mostly happy, anyway. With a bit more time and distance from Trevor Whitney, she’d be even happier.

  She parked the car and made her way inside, where she was met by the mayor, the Valentine Volunteers, and a woman named Tonya, who was a member of the hospital board.

  As she followed the group to the elevator, she leaned toward Gigi. “No Georgina?”

  Gigi winked. “She wasn’t invited to this meeting. It’s only for more creative types.”

  Evelyn smiled.

  They reached the children’s wing and, as a unit, made their way down the hall. While they walked, Evelyn took notes on the colors and structure, falling a bit behind the rest of the group. Ideas began to jump into her head, and as they did, she sketched and scribbled, wondering if there was more she could do in this wing than paint a mural.

  What if this children’s wing had a mascot? What if Silly Lily were more than a character in a book? What if she could come to life and spread her silliness, her happiness, her joy among those who needed it even more than a crabby old neighbor?

  “Evelyn?”

  She turned and found the rest of the group watching her. How long had they been doing that?

  “I’m sorry,” Evelyn said. “I just got an idea.”

  “We would love to hear it,” Tonya said. “So far every idea you’ve had has been right on point. In fact, we love the sketches so much, we’d like you to paint a mural on each floor of the hospital.”

  “Me?” Surely this was some kind of joke.

  Tonya smiled. “You’re quite talented. And once we received Mr. Whitney’s recommendation, we knew we had the right artist.”

  Evelyn frowned. “I’m sorry; what did you say?” She scanned the other women’s faces for any sign they knew what Tonya was talking about, but they all looked as confused as Evelyn felt.

  Tonya continued. “When he created the artist-in-residence program, he mentioned you to me. The mural was his idea.”

  “I don’t understand,” Evelyn said, her voice quiet.

  The mayor shifted, then leaned in toward Tonya. “Evelyn wasn’t aware of Mr. Whitney’s involvement in her position with the city.”

  Tonya’s eyes widened. “Oh, my. I am so sorry if that was not for public consumption. I only assumed everyone knew how generous he’s been.”

  Evelyn tried to process what she was hearing. “It was Whit?”

  Gigi moved toward her and draped an arm across her shoulders.

  Ursula folded her arms. “Told ya.”

  Evelyn couldn’t wrap her brain around what they were saying. It wasn’t possible that Trevor had been the one to dream up this position for her, that he’d offered to foot the bill. She’d been so cruel to him—why would he go out of his way to drop her name to these people?

  “Evelyn, all Mr. Whitney did was point out the obvious,” Mayor Thompkins said. “That you have a gift our city has greatly benefited from.”

  “No, Mayor Thompkins. That’s not all he did,” Evelyn said.

  Trevor had given her a second chance—one she’d pursued without him. He’d let her go, but he’d clearly given her a gift for the road.

  “If you’ll excuse me . . .” Evelyn stumbled backward down the hall toward the elevator.

  She heard them call after her and prayed they would cover for her with Tonya. She didn’t want to ruin her chances to impact the community by helping out at the hospital, but in that moment, she had something else she needed to do.

  Her mind wandered as she drove out to the edge of town and then kept going. When Whitney Farms came into view, her heart pounded a quickstep in her chest. She forced herself to keep going, no matter how much she wanted to turn around and forget she’d just heard anything Tonya and the mayor had said.

  She reached the farmhouse, but she could see Trevor’s truck parked near the old red barn. His wood shop, his quiet thinking place.

  Was that where he’d gotten the idea to invade her entire life?

  She parked next to his truck, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. She nearly lost her nerve as she reached the door, but she forced herself to push it open before she could chicken out.

  Inside, that familiar smell of sawdust filled her nose. She looked around, but the shop appeared to be empty. Another deep breath. Maybe this was stupid. She should go. She could resign the position and move away.

  Never mind that she loved her job. Never mind that while it might’ve been Trevor’s idea, she had been the one to make it into something that gave her meaning.

  “Evelyn?”

  She turned and found Trevor standing in a doorway that led to the makeshift showroom in the barn. At the sight of him, she nearly forgot why she’d come.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She swallowed
, remembering. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the one behind my position with the city?”

  His face fell. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that.”

  “Well, I did.”

  He wiped his hands on the rag he was holding, then tucked it in his back pocket. “Would you have taken it if you’d known?”

  “Of course not.”

  He shrugged as if now she had her answer.

  “You tried to pay my salary.”

  He shrugged again. “You rejected my offer.”

  “I wouldn’t allow any of my friends to pay my salary.”

  “Is that what we are? Friends?”

  The question smacked at her. She had no answer. How had they gotten here? He’d become the most important person to her, yet they weren’t even speaking. He’d shown her unconditional love, and she’d cut him out of her life completely.

  He walked away.

  “Are we done talking?”

  He didn’t look at her. “I’m not very good with words.”

  That line—the same one he’d said the night he kissed her—hung between them.

  “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

  “Whatever you want, Evie.” He picked up a clean rag and ran it over a table he’d built. It was beautiful, but she wouldn’t say so. Not when she was this angry.

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Listen, you’ve got a good thing going. It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “Well, I don’t,” she said. “But I’m trying. And I don’t need your charity to do it.”

  He sighed. “Why won’t you ever let anyone help you anymore?”

  She glared at him. “I’m sorry, Whit, but your so-called help broke my heart, so you’ll understand when I tell you that, as much as I love it, I don’t feel right keeping this position with the city. It’s time for me to find my own way.”

  He stopped wiping the table and held her gaze for several long seconds. “I just wanted you to believe in yourself—in that girl I fell in love with all those years ago—the way I believe in you.”