“Hey, girlfriend,” I say, giving her a pat on her soft belly. “Have a good day?”
“You should have seen her chasing after Beck’s horse while he rode. Huge dumb smile on her face, all freaking day.”
I walk back to the front door and grab her leash and collar, calling her over to go out for her last pee. She comes reluctantly, does her business quickly when we get outside, and retreats to my bed as soon as we’re back through the door. I follow her. Jett’s already closed the door to his room, and he’s talking low on the phone.
Ruby sighs as she flops down on the soft mattress, and I do the same. Holy shit it was a long day.
I cross my arms over my stomach, stare up at the ceiling, and allow my mind to decompress. I close my eyes, but when I do, the image seared into my eyelids is Wren’s face. The gentle slope of her nose, her dark lashes framing those coldeyes, the dip of her cupid’s bow. The feeling of her breath in my ear, on my neck. The soft, round globe of her ass in my hands as I carried her.
That fucking toe ring.
Maybe Jett is right. As much as I hate this version of Wren, the possibility that the old her might be in there somewhere is enough to keep me intrigued. I have to nip this in the bud. I have to accept the reality that it has been ten years since Wren and I were two kids in love.
Ten years changes people, sometimes fundamentally. I know it has with Wren—she’s no longer the girl I fell in love with. She’s a she-devil in stilettos and it’s time for me to move on.
I remember the slip of paper in the back pocket of my jeans, and I reach around until I find it. Unfolding it, I find the phone number in scratchy, shaky printing. Alma’s granddaughter.Emma, the note says. This could be alright. It could be more than alright. I have to put myself out there eventually.
Fuck it. I type and retype a message, overthinking it beyond a reasonable degree before finally hitting send.
Hi, is this Emma? It’s Hudson Landry. Your grandmother told me you’ll be in town for the summer and might like a tour guide?
Keep it casual and friendly, good. I set the phone down on the bed, my foot twitching impatiently. I haven’t done this in a very long time, and waiting for Emma’s responsemakes me feel slightly nauseated. Five minutes later, my phone pings.
EMMA
Hi Hudson! Yes, this is Emma. Nan told me you might text. I appreciate it, although I hope she didn’t hype me up the way she did with you. I keep telling her she needs to mind her business.
My mouth turns up into a soft smile, and I laugh through my nose. Emma seems sweet.
She did tell me you have a “bangin’ bod”.
I send it nervously, hoping I didn’t overstep. She quickly sends back a response, and I let out a sigh of relief.
We text back and forth for a while, sharing facts about ourselves, making casual, tentative plans for when she arrives in Heartwood. She sends me a picture of her dog, a curly-haired, cream-coloured spaniel-poodle cross named Murphy. He looks like a teddy bear.
I send her back a picture of Ruby, and we agree to take our dogs for walks together. The conversation is nice. Emma seems nice.
I eventually say goodnight and go to set my phone down on my nightstand when an e-mail notification comes in. It’s from Shelley to me and Wren.
Hi Hudson & Wren,
Unfortunately, some unforeseen circumstances have come up with my mom in Calgary, and I will have to go there for a while to be with her. I am unsure how long I will be, so I’ve decided to hand over my role to one of you and leave it in your capable hands. I trust you both, so decide amongst yourselves who will take the lead on the project.
Regards,
Shelley
My immediate thought is that I hope Shelley’s mom is okay. The mention of the hospital earlier sent me right back to my childhood and spending weeks on end with my own mom as she fought through round after round of chemo.
I send Shelley a quick response letting her know we’ll take care of it, and to let me know if there’s anything I can do. And then the thought that follows is that I need to take the lead role.
Normally, I wouldn’t care too much as long as the job gets done. But this project is different. When Joe McCall told me we got the bid, I pleaded with him to let me take it on. This arts centre is the first thing in a long time that has allowed me to feel connected to my mom. She was a real creative at heart. She was the one person who got me, who saw my softer side, the side I toughened up in front of my brothers.
When she died, I was alone. No one saw me, until I metWren. She had the same free spirit my mother had, and she never made me feel like I had to be something I wasn’t. Until she decided to go away to university.
Whatever Wren’s motivation for taking on this project is, I am hellbent on making sure I turn this arts centre into something my mother would have loved. It’s my chance to honour her.
Now that Wren is involved, and she’s shown me her true colours, she can’t have free rein here. She’s acting in the best interest of her fancy firm, and no doubt she’ll want the arts centre to align with their company’s image. It will have none of the whimsy, the warmth, the creative soul that my mother had.
