Page 61 of The Summer We Mended
She knew what it was.Another collection agency.Another creditor.Another unpaid bill.
She closed the notification and focused on her mother’s voice.
“…and I was thinking we could post a countdown.Maybe something like ‘seven days to celebrate the sun’ or something…you’re the word girl.You’ll think of something catchy.”
“I can do that,” Jess murmured.
Jess was still awestruck that her mother had asked for her help.Claudia Hartman was great at organizing all the social functions known to man, and she rarely asked for anyone else’s assistance, but today, she was.That meant more to Jess than her mother would ever know.
By the time her father got home from his errands in town, Claudia deemed the planning to be postponed until tomorrow, and Jess was full of gratitude.She was also exhausted.But for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t the numb exhaustion of anxiety; it was the weariness that came from using her brain for something she loved to do.
Maisie had retreated to her blanket fort with her tablet and a juice box, narrating a story to herself.
Jess sat on the couch and opened Canva.She mocked up a simple graphic: a sun rising over the treetops.“Solstice in the Vineyard,” she typed.“Celebrate the light.Saturday at sunset.All are welcome.”
The likes wouldn’t solve her money problems.Hashtags wouldn’t pay the rent.
But what if she made the party look so good that people paid to attend next year?What if she showed her work to the event coordinator downtown?Or the wedding planner who was always looking for help?
Her mind started spinning faster than it had in weeks.Maybe this wasn’t just a stopgap.Maybe it was a door.
Her phone buzzed again, this time the number was blocked.She didn’t answer.She couldn’t.
Jess looked around at the messy living room—glitter everywhere, half-eaten noodles on the coffee table, crayons stuck in the couch cushions—and felt a flicker of hope.If her mother believed in her ability to do this, maybe that meant there was still hope for Jess to pull herself out of this hole Clark had put her in.The thought filled her with hope, and that alone helped get her creativity flowing.
This gig didn’t pay, but it was a start, and that was all that mattered.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Lily
The sun had barely risen when Lily slipped out the back door, the dew still clinging to the grass and the cool hush of morning wrapping itself around her like a shawl.She hadn’t planned on going to the studio today, but something pulled her there.The quiet urge to do something had returned.
Lily could still remember the way David had grinned when he led her down the narrow, grassy path toward his family’s boathouse, hand in hand, barefoot in the early spring sun.The air had smelled of damp earth and the promise of warmer days, and she’d been laughing as he kept glancing over at her, unable to contain whatever surprise he was hiding.
When they reached the edge of the property, she saw the old boathouse: weathered gray shingles, slightly slanted roof, its dock long reclaimed by the tide.It had been in his family for decades but unkept over the last few years.It was half-swallowed by vines and salt air.She looked at him, puzzled.
“What are we doing here?Oh no, do you guys have to sell it in the estate?”Tears pricked her eyes.
She’d always loved this place.You walked in and could feel the history and the love of everyone who’d ever stepped foot in it.There was so much space and possibility blooming in it.With David’s father having just passed away, she had braced herself for what part of his family legacy they would have to part with to pay off his father’s bills.
David squeezed her hand.“It’s ours.”
“What do you mean?”she asked, breath catching a little.
“I mean…” He gestured toward the structure with a proud smile.“The boathouse is ours.But I thought… it should be your studio.For real.Not just the garage.You could teach classes, show more of your work, maybe even sell right here.It’s perfect, Lil.”
Her mouth fell open.“Are you serious?”
He nodded, eyes shining.“Dead serious.We’ll fix it up.Put in new windows, maybe update the porch out front.I can build you shelving.You tell me what you need, and we’ll make it happen.”
Lily threw her arms around his neck, heart thundering.“David Hartman, you’re out of your mind.This is…this is…wait, did you have to buy out Henry?”
He kissed her cheek.“No, I mean, I offered, but he wanted no part of it.He said it would be perfect for your studio and that he hoped I’d set something up for my woodworking.”
“Oh, that would be amazing.We could both be here doing what we love, every day.”
She had already begun picturing it then: rows of clay-dusted wheels, sunlight pouring through tall panes of glass, the gentle clinking of mugs and bowls on display shelves.A space that smelled of earth and glaze, filled with laughter, creativity, and the hum of something real.
