Chapter 16
Astrid
There had to be something I’d done wrong in Orange Falls. Either that, or maybe, by some eerie telepathic sense, Mabel had overheard Kelly and me talking about her son.
Those were the only reasons I could think of for why she called me the next morning, just as I was shaking off post-wedding stress, and out of nowhere invited me to her house.
I didn’t get the chance to say yes or no. She decided we were meeting at five.
In 500 feet, take a left onto Emerald Street, the GPS instructed, pulling my focus back to the road.
Even the maps had Ashbourne's house listed as a landmark.
The road was cleaner, wider. Rich people perks. Cypress trees lined the entire stretch, standing tall beside the thick compound wall, looking as pampered as the rest of the neighborhood.
The security guard approached as I pulled to a stop, giving me the kind of once-over that came with his job.
I didn’t have a physical invitation, just Mabel Ashbourne’s word, which wasn’t proof enough.
He asked for my name, walked back to the booth, probably checking a list or making a call. A few seconds later, the gate opened.
I didn’t know where to look first, afraid I’d miss something if I turned my head too fast. The road curved through the estate, lined with trees—lemons, berries, walnuts, and others I couldn’t name. Pink flowers were everywhere.
I parked at the front where a woman stood waiting. Mid forties, crisp blouse, pencil skirt, hair tightly pulled back, makeup sharp. She offered a polite nod as I stepped out. “Isabel, estate manager. Mrs. Ashbourne is expecting you. This way please.”
No chitchat, no unnecessary talking. She led me inside.
A Victorian-style house on the outside, and the interior was a mix of everywhere all at once.
A Persian rug sprawled across the marble floor, Chinese porcelain vases sat on what looked like a French side table.
Mabel decorated like a seasoned traveler, or at least someone who shopped like one, gathering pieces from every corner of the world and arranging them as if they were meant to be roommates.
“Astrid!” Mabel called as she stepped down the stairs, all smiles. “I’ve been waiting to see you again.”
So had I, though mostly to know if this was a friendly visit or if I’d somehow landed myself in trouble. “Likewise. Mrs. Ashbourne,” I lied with a straight face.
“Please, call me Mabel.” Her expression fell slightly, as if I'd added a decade to her age. “Hearing Mrs. Ashbourne from someone your age makes me feel like I should be at home baking pies and complaining about my knees.”
She was talking to me as if we were long-lost friends, despite having barely exchanged a handful of sentences. Fair enough. Being addressed that formally would probably send me searching for grey hairs too.
“Deal.” I grinned. “I’ll save Mrs. Ashbourne for when I really need favors.”
“I like you already.” Mabel laughed brightly. She glanced at Isabel briefly. “Isabel, have the staff bring some drinks and snacks for Astrid.”
The stiff woman nodded curtly and left.
Mabel leaned toward me, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “She didn’t scare you, did she? Isabel’s harmless, really, just terrifyingly good at her job.”
She led me toward the sofa.
“I straightened my spine on instinct the second she looked at me,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “She definitely gives off that principal’s office vibe.”
“Believe me, you’re not alone.”
A servant placed a tray with coffee, tea, and fruits—melon slices, berries, and peaches. I reached for the fruits. Hot drinks in summer felt like trying to fight fire with fire.
I took a bite of a watermelon as Mabel proudly explained the fruits had come straight from her garden.
It was nice, genuinely nice, to see her so passionate about gardening, but the nervous voice in my head was getting louder by the second, wondering if she planned to explain why she'd invited me here or if we'd keep talking about fruits until I collapsed from curiosity.
“Well, listen to me, going on and on.” She smiled, almost apologetically. “Honestly, Astrid, the reason I called you here was...” Mabel put down her tea.
Finally.
“To discuss an event,” she finished.
“An event?” I echoed, curiosity fully piqued.
She nodded eagerly. “The summer festival, it’s the last weekend of June. Orange Falls' first big event of the year, and the town's expectations are sky-high.”
I nodded, and she took it as signal and continue. “Last year, I gave the contract to Honeycomb Events but between you and me, they thought festival meant bake sales and glittery banners. It didn’t exactly scream summer magic. Needless to say, the town wasn’t happy.”
“At our last town meeting, I went through plenty of proposals, but none of them felt quite genuine.” She paused, a small hopeful smile appearing.
“I saw your work at the wedding, and afterward, I went through your website. It has a soul. You capture something real. I thought you might be exactly who I need this year. Would you consider taking it on?”
My stomach did a tiny flip. She'd gone through my website. So, apparently, I hadn’t messed up. Mabel didn’t secretly possess super-hearing to eavesdrop on my gossip with Kelly about her son, nor was she planning to blackmail me into silence about the apple-pie fight with Eleanor.
Planning a festival meant knowing Orange Falls—its history, traditions, and right now, I barely knew more than the quickest route to Aunt Dee’s. Maybe this was exactly the opportunity I needed to learn about the town.
I tapped my fingers absently on my phone, considering. Weddings were one thing, charity dinners and anniversary parties were another. But planning a festival, an entire town breathing down my neck, meeting their expectations, and having only a month to get it right?
I'd be under a lot of pressure. But pressure and I had always gotten along just fine.
“I'd love to, Mabel, really. I just—” I paused, hesitating. “Fair warning. I’m new to Orange Falls. I might need a little guidance to make sure I don’t accidentally offend half the town.”
“Oh, Astrid, thank you so much.” She squeezed my arm, her smile bright enough to power the entire town. “And don’t worry about being new. We can fix that easily. Isabel, could you bring the summer festival file?”
Isabel returned promptly, handing me a neatly labeled folder.
“This has all the details from previous festivals. Take your time going through it. We also have a town meeting coming up in three days. If you're free, it would be great if you could join us. I can introduce you officially to everyone. And don't worry, you won’t be working on your own. There’s someone I have in mind to partner with you, but we can talk about that later.”
Someone? Was Mabel herself not planning to work with me?
“I’ll look into it.” I wondered who exactly my partner in crime was going to be.
“Perfect.”
Mabel was already standing up. Apparently, a house tour was next on the agenda, though, to be fair, if my home looked like an art gallery, I'd probably insist on showing it off too.
She led me through the house, telling me about the Persian rug and how she'd struggled to bring it home. We later moved to an embroidered throw she'd bargained for in Jaipur draped over an armchair. We paused in front of two beautiful cream-colored hand-painted vases.
“These were from Shanghai,” she explained. “I spent two hours in a tiny shop negotiating with the owner. She pretended not to understand a single word I said until I offered her double the price. Then she spoke English.”
I laughed. “Smart businesswoman.”
“She definitely knew what she was doing.”
A small crystal swan figurine glittering near the window caught my eye. “It’s lovely.”
“That little thing nearly got me detained at an Austrian airport, you know. Security was convinced it resembled an explosive on their scanner. Tell me, Astrid, do I really look like someone who'd smuggle dangerous swan figurines?”
I pictured the scene and laughed. “Airport security thinks so.”
She grumbled something under her breath. We moved toward a small wooden box on the table. She lifted the lid, and a soft melody trickled out. Her expressions softened. “My husband picked this out on our last trip to Switzerland. He fell in love with it immediately.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “He has wonderful taste.” Though, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen her husband around. Maybe he was traveling or away on business?
“He did.”
Her voice was soft. But it wasn't just her voice—it was the quiet look in her eyes, the way her fingers brushed over the box that told me everything I needed to know.
I didn't want to press something painful, so I glanced away and moved toward the next item: a framed photograph. It was beautiful, clearly taken by someone who knew their way around a camera.
The lake was still as glass, reflecting everything above it.
Trees closely lined the shore, their branches thick with soft blossoms in muted pinks and whites, gently blending into the deeper greens beyond.
Mist curled softly through the branches, softening their edges.
The water mirrored it so clearly, I couldn't tell where the trees ended and their reflections began, as if the lake itself was keeping a quiet secret.
It looked like a scene pulled straight from a dream.
At the bottom corner was a name: Phantom Spring.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a nature picture this beautiful,” I murmured, fingers itching to touch, as if that could somehow make it more real. Even the name matched: Soft, intriguing, perfectly capturing the quiet mystery of the image.
“Aeron took this picture,” she said.
“Aeron?”
“Oh, right. I forgot you haven’t met,” She clarified. “My son, Aeron.”
What? Photographer?
“It got featured in Nat Geo. He doesn’t usually let me keep any of his photos, but I made a fuss about this one until he finally gave in and had it framed for me.”
“Nat Geo?” I echoed, stunned. “Your son is—”
“National Geographic photographer,” she finished proudly.
That escalated quickly.
Photographer? Nat Geo?
Holy cow!
I'd been picturing him out there with a shovel, knee-deep in dirt, when in reality he was actually photographing lions and elephants. Leave it to Kelly to feed me another half-baked story. Though, to be fair, Aunt Dee was the culprit who’d started this rumor in the first place. And I swallowed it whole.
Thank God I hadn’t opened my mouth in front of Mabel.
We stepped into the garden. I glanced around, taking in the flowers, the plants, and the balcony directly above the garden.
Though honestly, part of my brain was still stuck on Mabel’s son.
Finding out he was actually a wildlife photographer had made me about a thousand times more curious.
At this point, I’d settle for even a quick glimpse of him, just enough to overwrite Kelly’s ridiculous image she had planted in my mind.
My attention wandered up again, and this time, I caught movement. A silhouette shifted slightly behind the curtains, just enough for me to notice.
Was that her son?
Mabel's voice drew my attention back. “So, Astrid, starting to feel comfortable in Orange Falls?”
“Still settling in. This week has been a mess with planning the wedding, mostly me running around, mildly panicked, but it’s fine, I think.
Kelly’s been a huge help.” I realized how comfortably I was rambling to Mabel, the way I usually did only with Kelly.
Something about her warmth pulled me in. I felt comfortable around her.
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “No trouble with anyone around here?”
I shook my head. “People have been amazing here.” I reconsidered, grimacing slightly. “Okay, amazing might be a stretch. There’s exactly one person who seems to have made his life’s mission to annoy me. Every day.”
Mabel’s eyebrows rose in amused curiosity. “Who's that?”
“Honestly, I don’t know his name. We’re not exactly on friendly name-sharing terms.” Well, actually, he does know mine, annoyingly enough.
“Imagine Loki from the Avengers—that smug smile, and taunting people for fun.
Now remove the filter between his brain and mouth, and add about fifty percent more attitude, and you'll get pretty close.”
“Oh, Astrid,” Mabel’s tone softened protectively. “I had no idea you were dealing with such a troublemaker. What does he look like? I can ask around and give him a warning to stay away from you.”
I swallowed hard.
My joke had landed wrong. I hadn't expected her to jump straight into town-wide interrogations. “It’s fine, Mabel.” I assured her. “Really, he's harmless. I can handle him.” Besides, it wasn't like he'd only caused trouble. He'd helped me, too.
“But he might cause trouble again.” She was worried. “What if you can’t handle—”
Someone cleared their throat behind us. “Mom.”
I turned.
My breath caught sharply.
No way. NO WAY.
I must have willed him into existence with all my overthinking because now I was staring straight at the last person I'd expected or wanted to see right now. Especially considering I'd just described him as the Orange Falls Loki-with-extra-attitude.