Page 82 of Hers for the Weekend

“I try to avoid self-actualizing at all costs,” Tara deadpanned, although she wasn’t kidding. “Why won’t you let me help?”

Hannah glared at her. “I’m already letting you pay to stay here, against my wishes.”

Tara glared back. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. “I’m paying you because I have a lot of money and you’re a new business. But you keep saying I’m part of the Carrigan’s team, so let me help.”

Hannah threw up her hands. “You’re not here to help us. You’re here for us to help you.”

That thought made Tara want to vomit. “People don’t help me. I help people.”

The whole table stared at her for a long beat.

“If I’m not helping, why would people keep me around?” Tara whispered, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

Cole gathered her in his arms. “I hate that your family made you feel like you had to earn love. But we’re your family, and we love you because we fucking want to. Because we can. You never have to prove you’re good enough for us.”

“That’s true,” Noelle said. “We hang out with Levi and he’s the worst person we know.”

Goddamn it, she was sobbing again. It was so embarrassing.

“Why is Tara crying?” Miriam asked as she walked up, sounding appalled.

Taking several shuddering gasps, Tara got enough air in her lungs to say, “I’m self-actualizing.”

“Oh no.” Miriam shoved Cole out of the way. “I know how much you hate that.” She crouched down next to Tara’s chair and said, “C’mere.”

Taking Tara’s hand, Miriam dragged her out the back of the inn and toward the carriage house where she and Noelle lived.

Everyone trailed behind her.

“What are we doing, Mir?”

Miriam didn’t answer, a tiny elf intent on mischief. She stopped in front of the windows to the carriage house, which were painted with the name of her business.

“What does it say?” She gestured at the windows.

Tara looked at Miriam, and then the window. “It says Blum Again Vintage and Curios.”

“No no no. What does it say under that?” Miriam huffed.

Oh.

“‘What you never knew you always needed.’”

Nodding and shaking her mass of dark curls frantically, Miriam said, “Yes. That’s what you find here. So what did you never know you always needed?”

“Are you going to say romantic love?” Tara asked. “Please don’t.”

“That’s what I never knew I always needed. I don’t think it’s what you needed, though. It just helped you get what you needed.”

All right, she was curious. “And what, my dear, is it that I always needed?”

“To stop being afraid of your power, Tara! You burn down one country club, and you put away the wild child forever, but she’s still in there! You think she’s a terrible person because you’ve been railing on her for so long. But she’s you! You have to embrace who you truly are. Messy, wild, radical Tara Sloane. That’s the only way you’ll ever figure out what you most want.”

“You want me to heal my inner child,” Tara said flatly.

Miriam nodded. “More like your inner punk-ass teenager. And I have a perfect way for us to heal her.”

Ushering Tara into the workshop and store space, Miriam kept chatting, but Tara wasn’t listening. All around her were Miriam Blum upcycled art pieces, and Mimi Roz paintings. All the funky, strange, thought-provoking art that Tara hadn’t wanted in her home. Probably because she hadn’t wanted her thoughts provoked, and she was afraid letting in any chaos would open the floodgates.

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