Page 12 of In the Works

I leaned back in my seat with a smirk.

It was kind of fun, knowing that they had no idea what was coming just yet.

Kyle came back, setting two foaming pints on the bar. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Robin and I hollered in unison.

I took a sip, letting the cold, bitter beer wash down my throat.

“And she told you about the table?” Robin looked over at me.

My shoulders dropped at the word. “Yep.” I licked my lips as I thought about the whole situation. “What do you think?”

Robin shrugged. “I already told Victoria that Zoey tried to pull Bri out of retirement during the Town Hall renovation. But she wouldn’t do it.”

“Really?” My head whipped around to look at Robin. “No one told me that.”

Chuckling, Robin took another drink. “Well, it wasn’t relevant.”

I crossed my arms. “I could have helped.”

Robin waved me off. “No, Zoey didn’t want your help. She wanted to feel like she could pull the contact herself. Remember, she was still trying to convince herself that everyone here hadn’t noticed her decade-long disappearance.”

We both laughed at the thought. To her credit, though, Zoey had become such a big part of the community since her return that her life in the city felt a million years away.

My mind went back to Victoria and the piece of paper she had shown me. “If it’s any consolation to Zo, Vic is offering far more money than Zoey could have afforded.”

Robin raised her eyebrow. “Like how much more?”

I waved her off. “You don’t want to know.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin crossed her arms. “Still, even with that much, it was never about the money for Bri.”

I shrugged. “I mean, it was a little bit. It’s hard to make that kind of cash from a craft like that. Maybe it will be enough.”

“So, you’re gonna ask?” Robin bit her lip.

I looked down at the cold beer in my hands, letting the condensation cool my palms. A smirk teased my cheeks. “I mean I have an obligation to my client…”

Before I could get the words out, Robin was laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Good luck.”

Of course it was going to be a long shot, but what choice did I have? I certainly couldn’t go back to Victoria without even trying to get the table commissioned. Besides, maybe my history with Bri would be enough to convince her.

8

SARAH

The sun was shiningas my minivan pulled onto Harding Road. Coffee on an empty stomach had been a terrible idea – my body was tingling with anxiety as I searched for Bri’s mailbox.

I hope she’s even home.

I hadn’t bothered calling – it was a sure way to get rejected. Knowing Bri, I understood this conversation had to happen face to face. If I could catch her off guard, there was a chance that she’d agree.

As I drove down Harding, the van crawling at ten miles an hour, I spotted the simple, metal mailbox that marked the end of Bri’s driveway. Turning down the lane, I drove a few hundred feet before spotting the wood sculptures lining the entrance.

Every ten feet or so, an intricate wood carving faced the gravel.

“Wow.” I couldn’t stop the word from leaving my lips. It had been a long time since I saw Bri’s work in person. After Cricket’s, I had pulled up some searches of Bri’s old pieces, the ones that had been sold from art galleries.

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