“Okay.”
She had to believe him, though it felt awkward to leave, despite his assurances.
Passing out cookies to the folks working on the beach was easier. Marginally.
Over the next two days, she kept her phone on and close, just in case Trent needed anything. Maybe more cookies. Possibly a date.
Though she nurtured the date fantasies, they didn’t keep the nightmares away. Her imagination kept exaggerating the way the body had bumped against her, pushed by the persistent tide.
She avoided her sisters and struggled to find any sense of calm beyond her workspace behind the art gallery on Central Avenue. There she found the quiet solitude she needed to process the tumultuous emotions careening from delight at seeing Trent again to sorrow for a person she’d never met. Add in the shock of it all and a swirl of grief that death had stained the private haven of her childhood, and it was no wonder the materials she’d gathered from the storeroom were dark and sharp. The sculpture taking shape was like nothing she’d done before.
The warmth of the sunny afternoon barely cut through the chill clinging to her skin as she worked, lost to the undertaking once again, testing one piece after another until it fit into the design she hadn’t dared sketch out.
“Nat?”
“Hm?” She wasn’t ready to be distracted.
“Natalie Hargrave!”
The snap in Veronica’s voice might as well have been a bucket of ice water dumped on her head. “What?” She whipped around only to wrench her neck and trip over her stiff legs as she tried to stand.
Veronica’s severely disappointed expression cut through the creative fog. “Sorry. What time is it?” And what had she missed?
But her sister moved closer, her gaze softening in sympathy. “Oh, Nat. I’m sorry. I was just worried.”
“You sounded pissed.”
Roni turned Nat around to rub at her shoulders, immediately soothing the tense muscles. Having a physical therapist in the family was wonderful. “That was when I thought you were ignoring us deliberately.”
She’d been doing better at staying connected and answering calls. Especially when she was the primary contact for Hideaway guests. “Did something happen? I kept my phone on.” She patted the worn pockets of her overalls, discovering the phone wasn’t actuallywithher.
“The storeroom,” she muttered. But she glanced at the sculpture just to be sure she hadn’t used her device somehow.
“I found it.” Veronica handed it over. “And I let it piss me off,” she admitted. “Sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s not like I haven’t earned your wrath.” Natalie attempted a smile. “This time it wasn’t deliberate.”
Roni was staring at the work-in-progress. “I can see that.”
“Did I miss something?” She checked, but didn’t find any messages from Trent. What she found were several missed calls and texts from Roni and a voicemail from Celeste.
“Celeste filled me in,” Roni said. “About the, um, situation on the beach the other day.” She pulled Nat into a hug, despite the risk to her own clothing. It was always hard to tell what might transfer from Natalie’s work overalls. Could be paint or dust or some other type of grease and grime.
“I’m okay.” Still, she let herself cling for a moment, soaking up the love. The bond she shared with Celeste and Veronica was priceless. The three of them were so different and yet theyremained close. She couldn’t imagine her life without her sisters, though her first husband had nearly succeeded in isolating her from the family.
Stepping out of her sister’s embrace, she said, “We got lucky the, um, situation happened with a Guardian Agency booking.”
“I’ll say.” Roni walked a full circle around the work space. “This isn’t…”
“Me?” Dark, heavy, and brooding were not her typical descriptions of her artwork.
She shook her head before meeting Natalie’s gaze. “It’s you. One hundred percent. Just not theyouI’m used to.”
Self-conscious, Natalie shrugged. “I had to get it out.”
“Definitely better out than in,” Roni agreed. “It must’ve been awful.”
“Yes.” No sense sharing the horror by describing the way the tide had pushed the body against her.
