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“I hate that we’ve drifted apart. My fault. Will you forgive me?”
Aria didn’t even hesitate, just pulled Havana into a hug. “Nothing to forgive. You’re my hero, the one person I could always count on after mom and dad died. I barely remember them, but I have plenty of great memories of you helping me with homework and sewing up the hems I ripped.”
Havana sniffed as the tears started to fall. What had she done to deserve so much grace? “I was too bossy.”
Not because she’d wanted to tell everyone what to do. Because she cared about her sisters and they’d been cast into the world as orphans, thrust into a new, tiny town where everything was unfamiliar. Who better to pay attention to her sisters’ needs than Havana?
Except she’d abandoned them for her own reasons, some of which she still hadn’t reconciled.
“According to Ember,” Aria said quietly. “Not me.”
That marked the first time either of them had mentioned the missing Nixon sister in years. Ember’s betrayal had always been a bit of a sore spot with Havana, and Aria usually honored that by not bringing it up. Maybe Ember and all the lingering resentment Havana still carried about how their falling out had happened was yet another millstone that she needed to work on now that she’d come home.
“Thanks for that. I figured you were better off without someone who told you what to do all the time. That’s why I left.” Havana swallowed against the sudden burn in her throat. How selfish was she? She’d let so many dynamics affect her decisions, including the one that had driven her to leave. “I knew Serenity would make sure you ate and got your shots.”
Aria shrugged, her face a mask. “I just wanted my sisters. Both of you left.”
Havana nodded about a billion times in hopes that would keep the tears inside. It didn’t. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I needed to do something different before I lost my sanity. Forgive me.”
“I did a long time ago.” Her sister finally smiled, and that went a long way to loosen the knots inside. “Besides, you came back.”
Yes she had.
They settled into a companionable silence, and Havana experienced a moment of peace like she hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe because she’d actually thought of it as coming home instead of coming to Superstition Springs, as if she could ignore all the history here.
And that’s when she realized why she’d failed so miserably at convincing the town to build a shopping center—why she couldn’t persuade folks into doing things like Caleb could—she’d been trying to help everyone by showing them what she thought was best for them instead of figuring out what people really needed from her.
Seventeen
Tristan and Isaiah had volunteered for construction duty on the new schoolhouse despite zero experience, and as Caleb wasn’t in the position to be picky about his resource pool or Serenity’s limited budget, he readily accepted. The three of them stood in the middle of the empty building at the very end of the hotel side of town, surveying the property for possible use.
“Looks like this was once a canning factory,” Tristan said with a curled lip and kicked at a questionable pile of metal in the middle of the floor. “Or a garbage dump.”
“It was an art studio.”
They all three glanced toward the door. Cassidy Calloway stepped over the threshold and picked her way inside, gradually ending up pretty close to where they were standing. Caleb had asked her to come by to help them evaluate the site, and he was gratified that she’d been both interested and on time. Apparently they’d gotten a bonus in the form of someone who knew the town’s history.
“It was open,” she explained unnecessarily since Caleb had deliberately stuck a piece of wood under the door to let in some sunlight. One of the first or
ders of business would be to clean the windows if they figured out this space would work for the school.
A cleanup wouldn’t be out of order regardless. All the empty buildings were subject to being leased eventually if they ended up not being used for municipal services. Caleb added finding a body to supervise cleanup to his ever-growing mental list of things to do.
“An art studio?” Tristan kicked at the metal again with a bit more curiosity. “What kind of art?”
“Sculpture mostly,” she said easily, tucking her long brown hair behind one ear. “In the sixties, this was a hub of the alternative art scene. It was too small of a town for a lot of those it attracted, so they eventually drifted to Austin. Some of the old-timers stayed though. Briar Rose for example. She still sculpts, but she’s got a room in the back of her house where she does her work.”
Caleb’s mind turned that over as he envisioned this space as an art studio once again. There were a lot of places to put a school but not many with original history that he could draw on. “Does she sell any of it?”
Cassidy shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s just something she does because it makes her happy.”
He filed that away for later, along with other bits he’d learned over the past few days that he’d eventually pull together into a workable plan for the retail spaces in the downtown area. “What do you think of turning this into the schoolhouse?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t been in here in years. Not since I was little. It’s smaller than I remember.”
Tristan laughed, shooting Cassidy one of his trademark winks. “That’s always the way, right? Buildings do tend to shrink if we don’t visit them for a while.”
“I think I grew,” she deadpanned without the slightest bit of a mouth twitch that might eventually turn into a smile.
