Page 53 of Love Among Vines

The girls surrounded her, jumping up and down and squealing. Finally, they stepped back to take in the mural.

“It’s so beautiful,” Gemma said, one hand outstretched to touch the unicorn leaving a trail in the cotton candy water. She snatched her fingers back. “Right. Shit. Wet paint.”

“It’s amazing,” Elena said, coming around the front to administer one of her bone-crushing hugs.

Cindy grabbed her hand. “I can’t believe you’re really staying. Now you get to come to our legendary Halloween party. And if you think Hammondsport is adorable in the fall, just wait until you see Christmas. It’s a whole-ass Hallmark movie.”

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” Jade said.

The door opened behind them, and they all turned to greet the newcomer.

Jade’s heart stuttered in her chest. There was Rett, a bundle of aster and goldenrod in his arms. Gemma, Elena, and Cindy offered hurried farewells on their way out the door, but he only had eyes for Jade. And the mural behind her.

“Hi,” he said after the flurry of activity. He stooped down for a kiss, then took a step back to stare at the wall.

“It’s finished,” Jade said.

They stood together, staring at it for almost a full minute. He stepped forward, still holding the bouquet.

“Is that us?” He pointed to the couple on the dock, golden retriever between them.

“Yeah,” she said. “I figured I’d give the book club something to gossip about.”

“It’s incredible.” He reached out to touch it but stopped himself. “I knew you could do it.”

She looped her arm around his. “Thank you. For everything. This place has truly changed my life. I have hope for the first time in a really long time. Did I tell you that Chateau on Seneca emailed me to ask if I could do a winter and spring series?”

“I’m so proud of you. Truly.” He bent down for another kiss, and there was a flurry of activity at the book club table.

The sound of something ripping came from behind them. They both turned around, and Margie approached, tears in her eyes.

“I can’t believe it. My own Jade Gardner mural. Your first mural. In my cafe,” she whispered reverently. She reached over and touched the tiny David. “I don’t know how you did it, but you can feel the town.”

Thank god.

Jade, already overwhelmed with the emotions of the afternoon, threw her arms around Margie. She smelled like cinnamon. “Thank you so much. You believed in me even though you didn’t know me.”

“Heartache can take a lot of things from us. But it can’t take who you are at your core.” She drew back and held Jade at arm’s length. A mother’s pride beamed in her eyes. “Here, honey. You’ve earned it.”

A check landed in Jade’s hand. She blinked several times. Surely she wasn’t reading the check correctly. “This is more than we discussed.”

“It’s a tip. I don’t want to hear another word about it. I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” And with that, she disappeared behind the counter.

The check in Jade’s hand was basically a lifeline. She had done it—accomplished what she had stuck around to do, reclaimed her identity as an artist, and dug herself out of certain crushing debt brushstroke by brushstroke.

She took another look around, but everything was packed up.

It really was finished. She clutched the bouquet and took an appreciative sniff.

This moment would live in her brain forever—her redemption story spilled out on a wall in front of her, handsome, supportive man and teary-eyed mother figure behind her.

New friends waiting in the wings. A fresh start.

“Here. Your favorite,” Margie said, bustling over with a brown paper bag.

“I’m paying,” Jade said firmly.

Margie shook her head. “Not today. You’re still technically a contracted employee.”

Jade threw her hands up. “Fine. Thank you.” She leaned in for another hug, then allowed herself to be ushered out the door by Rett.

“Where’s your truck?” she asked as he hefted her supplies over the threshold and out onto the sidewalk.

“Not here.”

He fished around in his pocket and handed her a set of keys.

“What is this?”

There was a Mazda symbol on it. But Rett didn’t drive a Mazda.

He walked over to a navy blue SUV that was parked along the village green and opened the hatch. He hefted the supplies inside and turned back to her.

“You bought a new car?” Something wasn’t connecting here.

“No,” he said carefully. “This was my spare.”

Right. She had seen the Mazda lurking in the corner of the four-car garage.

“Don’t get mad. It’s for you.” He cringed a little when he said it, like he was expecting an outburst.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s yours,” he said again. “You have a learner’s permit now. You need a safe car to learn how to drive. And I don’t particularly want my truck to crash through the wall of a Wegman’s.”

“Are you insane?”

A new laptop was one thing. But a gifted car was absurd.

“It’s for purely selfish reasons. I worry about you on the bike,” he said with a glance at the bike rack. “It gets really foggy, and people drive like assholes on the lake road. Plus it’s going to be freezing here soon.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. It cost me nothing, and your safety is priceless.”

She reached over and shoved him. There was no use arguing with him.

“You’re impossible, Everett Rhodes.”

He shrugged. “You’ll learn to ignore it.”