Page 16

CHAPTER 16

EVIE

Victoria’s workshop is everything I dreamed of and more.

First of all, it’s adorable. A vine-covered cozy cottage at the edge of her property behind the spacious farmhouse where she lives with her recently retired husband. The setting alone is enough to make me love it. But it’s also full of natural light and clean workspaces, and it has incredible views of the tree-covered mountains out the back windows. It smells of cedar and maple and wood glue and varnish, and there is always classical music playing in the background. The entire place has a calming, relaxed vibe that skyrocketed it to my top five favorite places ever in a matter of minutes.

I’m only three days in, and I already want to move here. Live here forever. Raise Juno right here on this property and let her bury me under the giant maple in the front yard.

Or, you know. Maybe I can just work here.

The point is, this place is magical, and I love it with my whole entire heart.

Which helps because if I were leaving Juno for something I hated, I would have already quit by now.

Juno is doing great with Ruth.

I, on the other hand, have cried myself to work three days in a row. I’m fine when I leave the house, mostly because Alec makes me coffee every morning and takes care of Juno while I get ready, so I’m buoyed by his attentiveness. But when I leave Ruth’s all by myself, all that positivity seeps right out of my bones and into the floorboards.

I manage to pull myself together by the time I walk in, and after a while, I’m stable and ready to tackle the rest of the day. But for those first few minutes, I need every ounce of the patience Victoria seems to have in spades. She never had kids of her own, but she has this gentle nature that makes it seem like very little could rub her the wrong way.

As for the actual work happening in Victoria’s workshop, it’s a little more overwhelming than relaxing.

If only because there is still so much that I don’t know.

The walls are covered in tools. Planes and saws and reamers and shapers and clamps and a hundred other hand tools I couldn’t name. There is wood for repair and wood for original builds. Shelves full of glue and varnish and wax. Drawers full of bows and bridges and tailpieces. Boxes of strings and trays of hand carved tuning pegs and at least a dozen instruments in various states of deconstruction and repair.

I’m still nervous every time I touch something, though that’s slowly getting better as time goes by. I just know how delicate instruments can be. How a weirdly cut bridge or a misplaced sound post can alter or even ruin the sound an instrument can achieve. But hearing something is off is different than knowing how to fix it, so there’s definitely a learning curve.

“All right. Try it now,” Victoria says. She holds out the viola she’s been working on for the past twenty minutes.

When the viola first arrived, I was affronted that Victoria would be asked to repair such a cheaply made instrument. But Victoria only smiled when she took it from the frazzled mom and promised she’d see what she could do.

I reach for the bow resting in the instrument’s case and tighten the hair, then take the viola from Victoria. It only takes a couple of notes for me to hear a difference.

All we did was replace the bridge and adjust the sound post, but it sounds like a different viola altogether.

I play a few more measures of a Mozart sonata before finally lowering the instrument from my chin. “That’s incredible.”

“The little things matter,” she says as she takes the viola and puts it back in its case.

“Does it not bother you to have people bringing in instruments that are so poorly made? Why not tell them to return it and get something from a more reputable source?”

She shrugs easily. “People do the best they can with the knowledge they have. And they often buy what they can afford. I’m happy to help because I’d rather they play something than nothing at all.” She closes the case and carries it to the front of the shop where she sets it with the completed repairs awaiting pick up. When she spins around to face me, her eyes are sparkling with new excitement. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I feel like doing something fun. Are you interested?”

“Always,” I say without even a hint of hesitation. Three days in, I completely trust this woman. If her idea of something fun involved packing a bag and crawling into the Volkswagen van parked outside of her house for a spontaneous road trip, I’d probably do it. Well, as long as Juno could come too.

Victoria smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She walks to the corner of her shop and uses a key fob looped around her neck to unlock a heavy cabinet door.

I watch as she pulls out what looks like a very old violin case and sets it on the empty worktable behind her.

“Georg Winterling,” Victoria says reverently. “Made in 1905 and purchased by a German man who emigrated to the United States in 1950. He brought the instrument with him, but he was the only one in his family who played, so after he died, it went into the attic, where it sat for the next sixty-five years. Until his family sold the house and had an estate sale and did not think to evaluate the worth of their grandfather’s very old, very dusty violin.”

“Shut up,” I say, my voice reverent to match hers. “How much did you pay for it?”

She presses her lips together like she’s fighting a grin. “Two hundred dollars,” she says, and I gasp.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I’d feel bad about it, but honestly, Evie, they kept calling it a ‘dusty old thing,’ like they couldn’t believe I had actual interest. I think they’d have thrown it away had I not bought it from them.” She opens the case and pulls out the violin. “It’s in terrible shape, but if we can restore it…”

Her words trail off as she slides a hand across the cracked body of the violin.

“It’ll be worth thousands,” I say, finishing her sentence.

She looks up, a gleam in her eye. “If I do it justice.”

Something sparks in my heart, a sense of purpose and excitement that soothes the ache I’ve been carrying in my heart since I left Juilliard. I love to play my violin. I love to be in a symphony, to feel the music, to be a part of something that is so much greater than the sum of its parts.

When I lumbered across the stage at my graduation, seven months pregnant, completely heartbroken, I thought I would never find that purpose again. The music scene in New York is cutthroat. If you aren’t all in, you are quickly ousted out. But I couldn’t be all in as a brand-new single mom.

But hearing Victoria talk, that sense of purpose is sparking again. I love the history hiding in this violin. The stories it’s heard, the music it’s made. If I can be a part of bringing it back to life, maybe it’ll be okay if I’m not playing as much as I used to.

“What do you say?” she asks. “Want to help me?”

“I would be honored,” I say, matching Victoria’s smile with my own.

Her gaze lifts over my shoulder, widening the slightest bit before shifting back to me. “Good. We’ll start right after lunch.”

“What? Why not right now? Who needs to eat?”

She chuckles and tilts her head toward the front door. “Why don’t you peek outside and see if you still feel the same way?”

I spin around to find Alec standing on the cottage’s front porch. He’s turned to the side, eyes on his phone, but it’s clearly him. He’s dressed in joggers and an Appies hoodie, like he just came from practice, and he’s carrying what looks like a to-go bag of food in his free hand.

My phone buzzes from my back pocket, and I pull it out to find a text he clearly just sent from the porch.

Alec

Hi. Are you busy? I’m here with food, but I’m afraid to knock because I don’t want to interrupt.

I look back at Victoria. “How did you know he was here for me?”

“I didn’t,” she says. “But based on the way he was looking at you through the window, all sheepish and uncomfortable, I guessed.” She smiles. “A friend of yours?”

I nod and bite my lip, my heart climbing into my throat.

Alec is here.

I can’t truly put into words what it’s been like the past few days. Ever since he got home on Sunday night, things have been different. Charged with this current of anticipation. We’re talking and texting as much as we did while he was out of town, but now we’re seeing each other too.

Eating dinner together. Watching TV with the twins. Talking about the day while we do dishes.

I’m trying so hard not to read into things because I’m still not sure about the whole Riley situation. But every day that goes by, it’s getting harder and harder. I just like him so much.

“Evie, dear, are you going to let him inside, or shall I?”

My attention snaps back to Victoria. “What?”

She motions toward the door one more time. “He just knocked.”

“Right. Yes. I’ll let him in.” I hurry toward the door, wiping my hands on my jeans as I go.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” I ask as I push open the door.

“I brought lunch.” He holds up the bag. “A burger from Betty’s. And sweet potato fries. Since you didn’t have them last time, I really thought you should try them because they’re amazing.”

“Did you seriously skip practice to eat burgers with me? I don’t think your trainers would approve.”

“I have a salad for me, and I’m not skipping anything. We finished early today.”

I move out of the way and motion him inside. “Come on in, then. I’ll introduce you to Victoria.”

I make quick introductions before Victoria excuses herself, claiming she has a date with the leftover chili her husband made last night. But I don’t miss the look she gives me over Alec’s shoulder, eyes wide as she mouths the word Wow.

“She seems really great,” Alec says as he follows me across the shop. There’s a cozy living nook on the right side of the workshop with a couch, a coffee table, a small refrigerator, and a table just big enough for two people. It’s tucked away and private, so it’s been a perfect space for my twice-daily pumping sessions. I store the milk in the tiny fridge so I can take it home to Juno every day, but so far, that’s all I’ve used it for. Even though I’ve packed a lunch, Victoria keeps insisting that I go up to the main house to eat lunch with her.

Alec sets the food down on the table while I grab a couple of water bottles from the fridge.

“She’s amazing,” I say as I steal a sweet potato fry from one of the open containers. “Oh my gosh. Those really are good.”

“Right? I told you.”

I sit down, and he slides my burger in front of me. It looks like the barbecue one—a solid choice—and my mouth immediately starts to water. “This was really nice of you, Alec.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was on my way home.”

“It is not on your way home. This place is not on the way anywhere.”

He grins. “I was hoping your limited knowledge of Harvest Hollow might work to my advantage.”

“I’m bad with directions,” I say, holding up a fry and pointing it at him. “But not that bad.”

“Fine. You caught me. I’m here for the fries that I’m not allowed to buy for myself.” He reaches over and steals a handful of sweet potato fries.

“Hmm. So they don’t have any calories if you steal them from someone else’s plate?”

“Exactly.”

I take a bite of my burger, letting out a little groan as the tang of the barbecue sauce hits my tongue. “Oh gosh. That’s so good.”

“So I made the right choice?”

I nod through another bite. “You absolutely did. It’s definitely my favorite of the two we tried. So, easy day today, huh? Must be nice after so much traveling.”

“Yeah. I think we were all ready for a break.”

“Next game is tomorrow?”

“Home game tomorrow, then another on Saturday.”

“I don’t know how you keep up with such a crazy schedule,” I say as I lick a dollop of barbecue sauce off my finger. “I’d be exhausted all the time.”

He shrugs, but not before a hint of something unreadable passes over his expression. “You get used to it.”

I almost push. Ask him if he’s getting tired of it all or if it’s just the pain in his knee that has him worried. Is it harder this season? Are the injections in his knee still working? Has his playing time been impacted? But I’ve sensed a growing tension whenever we talk about hockey lately, and I don’t want to push him when we only have a short time to be together, so when Alec changes the subject, I don’t stop him.

“So, I was thinking,” he says as he digs into his salad. “The team is doing a community thing next week for Halloween. All the junior hockey teams and their families come to the Summit and trick-or-treat around the arena, have a costume contest, that sort of thing. Would you want to bring Juno and go with me? It’s usually pretty fun.”

“I’m sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Alec Sheridan of I hate Halloween fame is actually inviting me to a Halloween event?”

His lips lift into a chagrined smile. “Sometimes I forget how much you know about my past.”

“Alec. Everyone in all of White Plains knows how much you hate Halloween. You complained about that hotdog costume for months.”

“It was a really terrible costume,” he argues. “Layers and layers of polyester. And tights, Evie. Bright red tights.”

To his credit, Alec still wore the terrible hotdog costume, because a ten-year-old Megan desperately wanted him to be a hotdog to her cheeseburger. But I still vividly remember how much he hated those tights. “You’re a good brother.”

“The scars run deep, because I still don’t love Halloween. But the thing at the Summit isn’t optional, so if I have to be there…” He gives me a pointed look.

“Misery loves company?”

His eyebrows lift playfully. “I was thinking more…maybe it won’t be miserable if you’re there with me?”

My face flushes with heat. He has no idea what he’s doing to me. But also, he shouldn’t be doing this if he has a freaking girlfriend who lives in Chicago. I put down my burger and force myself to swallow the bite suddenly lodged in my throat.

I have to ask him.

I have to ask him right now because if I don’t, the question is going to eat at me and eat at me and then I might throw up which would be a colossal waste because this is a really delicious burger.

“Alec, are you still dating the woman in Chicago?” I blurt out. “The one with all the pictures of you on Instagram?”

Alec’s hand stills over his salad, but his eyes are clear when he looks up to meet mine. “No,” he says simply. “I’m not. Evie, I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if I was.”

I take a shaky breath, exhaling and letting the tension drain out of my body. In its place, a warm, buzzy glow fills my limbs, making my skin tingle and my blood heat.

I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if I was . That means Alec really is flirting with me.

He clears his throat. “If we’re talking about people we aren’t dating,” he says, “are you still talking to your ex-husband?” Alec’s tone is even and steady, and the thrill of the previous moment whooshes out of me all at once. “I saw that he texted. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but it did make me wonder if the two of you are still talking, or…”

“We aren’t,” I say, almost eagerly. Probably too eagerly. But my answer isn’t entirely true. “I mean, not in the way you mean,” I add. “He did text me recently. But only because of Juno. Not because there is anything between us.” The warmth in Alec’s expression immediately puts me at ease, making it easy to add, “I wouldn’t be talking to you like this if there was.”

His lip ticks up the slightest bit. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.”

Oh my gosh.

Me.

And Alec Sheridan.

Megan’s freaking older brother Alec Sheridan.

Are on. the same. page.

And not just any page. A page torn out of an actual romance novel.

“So…Halloween?” he asks, like we’re still just having a normal, casual conversation.

I force my brain to focus. To not freak out. To be chill and calm like this is not one of my childhood fantasies coming true because it sounds like he’s asking me on a date. “Juno does look pretty cute in her puppy dog costume,” I manage to say.

“I’m sure she does. So you’ll come?”

“I’d love to come.”

“Perfect,” Alec says, practically blinding me with his full megawatt smile. “And I was thinking dinner at Felix’s on Friday night? It works for the rest of us if you’re free.”

“Dinner on Friday and Halloween next week? You don’t think you’ll get sick of me?”

He tosses me a flirty smile. “Not likely.”

After I figure out how to breathe again, I spend the next twenty minutes talking about the repairs I’ve watched Victoria do and the restoration we’re starting this afternoon. Once I get going, I completely forget that Alec basically just admitted he caught the same feelings I did. That’s how much I’m enjoying this work. But Alec is also a really good listener. He keeps asking questions. Real questions. Questions that make it obvious he’s paying attention and not just humoring me.

“And that’s what’s so exciting about it,” I finally say. “A lot of older instruments are complete crap and shouldn’t be restored because they never sounded great to begin with. But instruments that are well made will only sound better with age. And a Georg Winterling violin is definitely going to sound amazing.”

He studies me for a long moment. “You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”

I lift my eyebrows, surprised by the question. “What, like, in Harvest Hollow?”

“Sure. But I really mean here here. Doing this. Working with Victoria.”

I can’t stop the easy smile that comes at his question because I really do love it here. Even though it’s only been three days, I already feel like I’ve found a true friend in Victoria, and the work both inspires me and challenges me. I pick up my last french fry and stand up. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

Alec follows me into the workshop. On the far wall, there’s a wooden sign with the words A Place for Healing stamped over the outline of a violin. I motion toward the sign. “I know it’s supposed to be about the instruments,” I say. “But when I got here Monday morning and read that for the first time, it felt like a message just for me. A reminder that I’m going to be okay.”

He pushes his hands into his pockets and studies the sign. “I’m really happy for you, Evie,” he finally says.

His words are genuine, but there’s a sadness behind them I can’t quite define, enough that it shifts the happy mood of the past half-hour. “Hey.” I look over at him and bump my shoulder into his arm. “You okay?”

He gives his head a quick shake. “Yeah. Absolutely. I am happy for you.”

“I believe you,” I say. “But there was something else to your look there. Something you didn’t say out loud.”

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“You sure?”

He breathes out a sigh. “I was just…thinking about you finding your purpose while I might be losing mine.”

My heart clenches at his words. “Alec. Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. There’s more to life than hockey.”

He winces at my words, and I immediately wish I could take them back. It hasn’t been that long since I sat at Alec’s counter and ate a breakfast sandwich, telling him he was more than a hockey player, but the words seem to hit him differently this time. Enough that I have to wonder what’s happening on the team. No matter what it is, there’s more to life than hockey is a stupid thing to say to someone in Alec’s position.

“That was a dumb thing to say. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel?—”

“It’s okay,” Alec says, cutting me off, his words a little too sharp around the edges. “You didn’t.”

It’s my turn to wince, and Alec immediately frowns. “Evie, I’m sorry,” he quickly says, reaching out to take my arm. His grip is gentle as he gives it a quick squeeze before sliding his fingers down to take my hand. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

“No, I did. I didn’t mean to diminish what you’re going through with a stupid platitude.”

“It’s okay. Hockey is just hard for me to talk about right now.”

I’m not sure it is okay, but that’s a selfish thought. Just because Alec isn’t talking to me doesn’t mean he isn’t talking to anyone. And what even am I to Alec right now? We only just admitted that we’re interested in dating each other. That doesn’t mean he’s ready to reveal all his deepest, darkest thoughts.

But it does mean I’m worried about him.

His thumb brushes across my knuckles before he finally drops my hand. “I should probably go so you can get back to work.”

I don’t want him to go. I want to pull him into a hug and beg him to tell me everything he’s feeling.

But that would be weird and entirely uncalled for, so I nod and smile instead. “Yeah. Probably. Victoria should be back any minute.”

He looks over my shoulder toward the table where our empty food containers are still sitting. “Should I clean up, or…”

“I’ll totally do it,” I say. “Don’t worry about it at all.”

I walk with him to the porch, pausing at the top of the steps.

In the distance, Victoria is winding her way down the path that leads from the house to the workshop.

“Hey,” I say as Alec starts down the steps. He pauses on the second one and turns, and for once, we’re eye level. “Thank you. This was an amazing surprise.” Before I can second guess and talk myself out of it, I lean forward and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

His arms slip around my waist as I breathe him in, cataloging every element of his hug. The feel of him pressed against me, the slight musk of his skin, the way his grip tightens just before he lets me go.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

He waves at Victoria as he climbs into his truck, then he looks back one more time and waves at me.

I’m still standing on the porch when Victoria reaches me, watching as Alec’s truck disappears around the bend.

“Please tell me that man is someone special to you,” she says as we head back into the shop.

“My best friend’s older brother,” I say. “Does that count?”

Her eyebrows lift. “It makes it more fun, but no. That’s not enough.”

I laugh as I move back to the table and pick up the trash from our lunch. “Well, give me a little bit of time. Hopefully we’re moving in the right direction.”

“Is he an athlete?” she asks, one hand pressed to her chest. “He looks like an athlete.”

“A hockey player,” I tell her. “He plays for the Appies.”

“Oh. Oh! I’ve heard hockey players are very good with their hands.”

“Victoria!” I say, laughing at her suggestive tone.

“What? They would have to be, wouldn’t they? With all the…stick handling and…puck moving?”

“Why do I think you don’t know anything about hockey?”

She huffs out a sigh. “Because I don’t. But I have read a hockey romance or two, and let me tell you, that man could star in one of them.”

I laugh. “I’ll let him know you think so.” I wipe down the table and throw away our trash from lunch, but after my conversation with Alec, a thought keeps niggling at the back of my brain.

I didn’t lie to Alec when I said I wasn’t talking to Devon. Not really. I have no desire to get back together with my ex-husband, no matter why he’s calling.

But if something is going to happen with Alec, I need to figure out what’s going on so Devon doesn’t blindside me with a surprise visit or suddenly wanting to be involved in Juno’s life. Unlikely, but it could be awkward with Alec. I need to know why Devon is calling. Why it’s so important to him that we have a conversation when, as far as I’m concerned, everything we needed to say to each other has already been said.

“Hey, Victoria, do you mind if I make a quick phone call before we jump back into work? It should only take a few minutes.”

“Of course, dear. Take your time.”

I take my phone onto the porch and drop onto the top step next to an assortment of bright orange pumpkins. Apparently, Victoria’s husband is an avid gardener and has an enormous pumpkin patch every year. She already sent me home with a few to put on Alec’s porch, one she said would be perfect for carving a jack-o-lantern.

I took them to humor her, knowing Juno is much too young for me to go through the effort, but Theo and Carter were excited enough for all of us when I showed up with pumpkins, and now Alec’s front porch is adorned with two surprisingly well-carved jack-o-lanterns.

I pull up my text thread with Devon and read through the messages one more time.

Devon

Can we talk?

Evie

Texting is fine.

Devon

Evie, please.

I really need you to call me.

I sigh and close my eyes, digging deep to find my courage—and my backbone. Then I open my eyes and make the call.