Page 124 of Castleton Hearts Boxed Set

“It’s all yours,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed to put some moisturizer on my legs.

“Thanks,” she said, passing by me to use the shower.

I listened to her sing as she showered, reminiscing about when we used to spend all day at the beach in Castleton. How we’d always wind up sunburned no matter how much sunblock we put on. We’d live on nothing but cheeseburgers and soda and ice cream, and always had sand in our shoes. When we were too young to be there alone, my Granny Margaret had taken us. Thinking about Natalie made me think about how much I missed my Granny too.

Those days had been perfect. I missed those carefree summers with Natalie. I knew I couldn’t go back to them, but maybe we could try and recapture the magic a little.

“You look lost in thought,” Natalie said. I hadn’t realized she’d turned the shower off and come out of the bathroom.

“Just thinking about how we used to have weeks in the summer free of any responsibilities.” Except for cleaning our rooms or washing the occasional dish. No work, no taxes, just vibes.

“Yeah, I miss that too. I wish I could put off looking for a job, but that’s not going to happen,” she said, carefully blotting her curls with a special towel she had a million of.

“We could pretend, at least on the weekends. You could come to the beach with me when I look for shells.”

“You’re still doing that?” She smiled softly. Whereas Natalie always wanted to be in the water, or reading on the sand, I was always looking for shells or little creatures in the tide pools. I had jars and jars of them on the windowsills of my room.

“But now I make things with them instead of just hoarding them,” I said.

I didn’t know why I was shy about showing her my creations, but it took me a few seconds to pull up my special social media pages for my hobby. I did sell my items, but I had so few of them that it couldn’t really be called a business. Right now, I did mainly wreaths, a few ornaments, wall hangings, coasters, and sometimes lamps that were filled with sand and shells.

“These are beautiful, Em. Really cool,” Natalie said. “Now I just need to find a hobby. The past four years my hobby has been homework and mental breakdowns.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Neither of those sound fun.”

“Exactly. I need fun hobbies. Help me think of some.”

“Isn’t your murder stuff a hobby already?” I asked.

“I mean, yeah. I guess. It’s more of an interest, if that makes sense? I want to do something, to make something,” she said.

That did make sense.

“Okay, what about any of these?” I pulled up a list of unusual hobbies that Paige had written for one of her copywriting clients. Having someone who wrote lists for a living came in handy so many times.

“Taxidermy?” I asked.

“Ew, no. I’m not touching dead stuff,” she said, laying down and turning to face me.

“You could always try knitting. There’s a group that meets at the library every week,” I said.

“That sounds promising,” she said. “I could be a knitter. Knitting and true crime really go together well.”

Murder and kitting. That did sound about right.

“Plus, when you get older, the town might even hire you to solve crimes,” I pointed out.

“Let’s not take it that far. Okay, I’m going to start knitting.”

And with that, Natalie had decided.

We lounged together, each doing our own thing as I looked up new ways I could use the shells I found, and Natalie was reading knitting blogs and ordering supplies.

It was a good silence. A comfortable silence. The silence of two people who are content with each other’s presence and don’t need to fill it with talking.

Tomorrow we’d make it to Maine. This was our last night in a hotel together.

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