Page 19 of With Stars in Her Eyes

Thea

The misty dawn light threaded through the enormous, snow-covered branches, casting long shadows on the small, empty lot beside the old church building.

March was supposed to be going out like a lamb but the frigid air was definitely roaring rather than demurely bleating.

My phone’s frozen screen burned my cheek as I tucked it beneath my beanie with my head crooked to the side.

I peered through my camera, changing the angles of the shadows and light until the shot was exactly what I wanted.

Shooting with film, especially discontinued, specialty film like I was using today, meant being careful with every exposure.

Usually my mind was quiet in moments like these, my entire focus on whatever was in my viewfinder.

But there was no silence to be had today because my mother had been talking for the last twenty minutes straight despite my attempts at saying goodbye—thus, the reason why my phone position was threatening to put a crick in my neck.

We were both natural early risers, so when I was still in Huntsville, we used to meet for coffee in the mornings after I was out taking photos.

She would update me on all the gossip from her local clubs and the organizations she chaired before I gave her a short update on my life, as long as I didn’t include any topics that made her uncomfortable.

I had always thought my mother’s biggest issue was the loneliness she refused to acknowledge, but Marshall was right.

Since he pointed it out, I noticed that conversations with my mom did always make me feel more shunted to the side compared to my married siblings.

It was one thing to be the chronically single too-much-too-soon girl like I had been before making my texting rules or the girl it was easy to leave whenever the person I was dating wanted “something bigger/better/whatever.” It was another to be forced to sleep on a pull-out couch in the living room on vacations when the couples and their kids had rooms. Which was the current plan for the family vacation in April as I had predicted to Courtney.

Oh, Thea won’t mind had become a constant thing in making every family plan.

But I did mind. Moving here was supposed to be about breaking patterns.

And next week I would be on the couch because even though there was an extra room in the beach house that was supposed to be mine, they needed a space for one of my sister’s toddlers who was having a tough time sleeping and my sister “won’t be able to relax unless the two kids have separate bedrooms.”

“So, I really need to finish up here, Mom.”

She ignored me, as expected, so I stopped listening and let my mind wander to happier things.

Ever since that first shared sandwich day, Courtney and I had eaten lunch together whenever our schedules overlapped.

She hadn’t asked for my number, and I hadn’t asked for hers either.

We just checked our schedules at the end of each lunch and planned for the next one.

She had made me laugh so hard yesterday when she reenacted a scene from the morning in the bookshop involving a customer who had accidentally bought a steamy gay hockey romance for her grand-nephew who played goalie at his college.

Apparently, the kid didn’t want her to return it though, he just wanted to know if there were more in the series.

Today was already going to be crummy because Courtney had a doctor’s appointment and wouldn’t be around to eat with me at lunchtime.

“Also, your brother scheduled the delivery to you the week before you said you were leaving to drive and meet us at the beach. Made sense timing-wise.”

I stopped pacing. My chest constricted as I returned to the phone conversation. “What? The delivery to me of Grandpa’s collection? ”

“They want to close quickly, and your brother pulled some strings with the bank—”

I swore low enough she couldn’t hear over the phone. “Of course he did.”

“Your brother has done a lot for this family. And a lot for you. You knew the arrangement with your grandaddy’s house wasn’t a permanent one.”

I sighed. “I thought he was giving me until the summer to find a storage space for it all.”

“He said the truck would be getting to Kansas on Thursday. Keep in mind, sweetie, he wanted to get it all appraised and sell it for you.”

“I didn’t want to sell any of it. Wait… Thursday. This week, Thursday ?”

“The estate’s Realtor wants to do another walkthrough, and we thought it wouldn’t have made the best impression if it looked like there’s some mysterious setup out there.”

“It was a film studio, not a meth lab, Mom.”

“Be that as it may. There are enough rumors still making the rounds about our people for me not to want them to know exactly how eccentric your grandfather was. Your brother wanted to get everything sorted out.”

A few beats of silence followed, but I was too furious to ask my mom if she was still there. My neck was cramping, so I gave up my photography aspirations for the morning and slid my camera back into my bag.

“So, should the movers deliver the boxes to Marshall’s house?”

“I…” I had been so busy that I hadn’t shopped around for a storage unit yet. “ Shit .”

“ Thea .”

“Sorry. Just… let me call you back on that.”

“I thought Marshall has plenty of space?”

“He does. For living and an extra bedroom for guests. But it’s a condo. I can’t co-opt the guest bedroom for the collection. I just need another day to get a storage unit rented. It’ll be fine. Can you text me the number of the movers so I can tell them?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Mom said. “And we hoped you could take some nice photos of all the grandkids, so don’t forget to bring that really good camera to the beach. The ones you did last year turned out so nicely.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It took ten more minutes to get off the phone. When my phone was safely stowed in my pocket, I walked back and forth, stretching out my neck until I took out my frustration by kicking a nearby rock so hard it hit the base of a giant tree.

“ Watch it . That’s a champion tree you just hit with a rock.”

“Holy fuck.” The unexpected voice made me jump. I whirled around and found the Ms. Jeannie Gallagher-Keegan, plant shop owner and erstwhile snowstorm drill sergeant herself, looking shrewd. She had a shovel perched on her shoulder and wore a man’s jumpsuit.

“Sorry for terrifying you.” A twinkle played in her steel-gray eyes. “So, what’s the problem here?”

“The problem where?”

“You were just in a fight with your mother on the phone and now you’re pacing a track in my courtyard.”

“You’re not even pretending you weren’t eavesdropping?”

“I’ve never thought it was very expedient to pretend much of anything.”

“That’s fair.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to dump my problems on you. Everything’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Jeannie didn’t answer that. She stared back at me with a look that was impossible to misinterpret.

“My stuff got kicked out of my grandfather’s house earlier than I expected it would.”

“What’d you do to piss off the old man?”

“He’s been dead for ten years, so nothing.

My brother however…” I shook my head. “My grandfather left me a lot of photography stuff. It’s hard to explain.

It’s special. He always said that collection was his life’s work.

The rest of my family never really understood.

They don’t really understand me at all actually.

I’m not like my brother or sisters. I’m…

I’m kind of like the family fuckup. I quit things.

A lot of things. But photography is the one thing I haven’t—and…

anyway, basically it’s a literal truckload of stuff.

I promised my family I would rent a space for it here, and then I promptly forgot about it like an asshole because I started the job at Squid quicker than expected.

It can’t be stored just anywhere. There are antiques and stuff I haven’t even gone through yet, so it has to be somewhat temperature controlled.

Know any good storage units or studios that rent out space? ”

“Not off the top of my head… but…” Jeannie pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Well, when I kick the bucket, I hope whoever I leave my life’s work to cares half as much as you do about his things.

” She grabbed a pitchfork and stabbed it into the ground.

Just like on the night of the snowstorm, I was struck again by her face.

I was absolutely certain she had been utterly stunning as a young woman.

Every sunspot and wrinkle on her face seemed to tell a story.

I felt a prickle in my fingers like I always did when I saw something beautiful—a craving to capture the moment.

Jeannie’s face lit up. “I’ve got an idea.”

“About what?”

“About your predicament. Give me until tomorrow morning.”

“Until tomorrow morning for what?” I rubbed my hands together. The wind was picking up, but Jeannie didn’t seem to notice.

“See you tomorrow morning right here.” The older woman checked her watch. “Same time, okay? Good.” Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her wheelbarrow off down a path that seemed to lead to the back of the church building.

“Ms. Gallagher-Keegan, I—”

“Call me, Jeannie. Ms. Jeannie. Either.” Jeannie waved over her shoulder. “And see you tomorrow.” She slipped her phone out of her pocket. Her voice carried in the quiet. “I believe, kiddo, that I did you a favor out of the blue once, and it’s about time I called in my chit.”