Chapter 34
Astrid
Mabel herself came down to greet me as soon as I stepped out of the car as if we still bothered with official welcomes when I practically knew this house well enough to give tours.
She looked gorgeous in a sage-green tea dress dotted with tiny flowers, sleeves fluttering at her elbows, channeling some serious vintage Hollywood energy.
“Astrid.” She wrapped me in a hug, and eased back slightly, giving my outfit a once-over. “This looks lovely on you.”
“You sure?” I’d wanted something different, my usual clothes had started feeling like a uniform. After a mild closet meltdown, I'd settled on a floral top and a pink pinafore, a mismatched gamble I hoped said effortless style rather than first grader on picture day.
“Absolutely. Ask Isabel.” Mabel glanced at Isabel, who stood two steps behind her, posture stiff, expression unreadable.
She gave a single nod, the same nod she used for hello, goodbye, and every emotion in between. Forgive me if her nod wasn't quite enough to boost my confidence.
“How I wish I could wear these kinds of outfits now.” Mabel sighed.
“You absolutely can. Even now.” We headed inside. “Put on that pinafore, take one stroll across a college campus, and I promise you’ll have at least a dozen of those freshmen trying to score your number before lunch.”
“Oh, Astrid, I’m definitely too old to be playing pranks,” she said, but the tiny sparkle in her eyes said she'd probably be first in line.
“This is for you.” I held out the box, and she took it eagerly, already peeking inside. Her face instantly brightened.
“Oh my God, apple pies! You didn’t have to do this, but please always do.” She took a bite, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Heaven. Seriously, these are amazing.”
Mabel handed Isabel a pie, going on about how crispy the crust had turned out, while I let my eyes drift around the room, desperate to see my favorite face .
I looked up to the first-floor hallway, staying a bit too long on the left-side door, silently willing him to step out, surprised, maybe even happy to see me. Instead, the door stayed stubbornly, disappointingly shut.
Mabel cut into my thoughts, excitedly mentioning she'd started painting after attending a class at the festival, and she was already dragging me toward her bedroom, eager for my expert critique.
I stared at the canvas, squinting like adjusting my vision might help. The creature had a strong neck and mane of a horse, but also the sleepy eyes and rounded spotted body of a dairy cow. Like it wasn’t sure whether to moo or neigh.
A crossbreed?
“How is it?” she asked again, eyes hopeful, paintbrush at the ready as if preparing to jump right in and change this masterpiece at the slightest hint of criticism.
“Um,” I started, glancing between her and the painting, “love the cow. It’s very cute.”
Mabel’s smile dropped. “Astrid, that’s not a cow.”
Oh! Neigh. Not moo.
“Horse!” I corrected quickly, nodding with confidence. “I meant horse. Very majestic—”
“It’s a llama, Astrid.” She sighed, looking at me like I’d failed a basic zoology exam. “The long neck, fluffy body, those judgmental eyes. It’s a llama.”
A llama? Seriously? Here I'd been trying to decide if it was a horse, a cow, or their secret love child, and Mabel had created a llama.
I nodded along, or at least gave a convincing impression of it. One should never discourage artists, especially llama artists.
Mabel eagerly showed me another painting, the one she'd made at the festival workshop, marked with an A in the corner.
She didn't miss the chance to mention Eleanor's B , her smile brightening like she had won a lottery.
I still didn't understand why these two signed up for the same classes when they were rivals who couldn’t stop scowling at each other for a second.
We headed out to the garden while lunch was finishing up, and I did another quick sweep of the house.
“I don’t see Aeron?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not at all like I'd been wondering for the last twenty minutes where on earth he'd disappeared to.
“He went to meet Ayden,” Mabel said, stretching onto her tiptoes and giving a little bounce to reach a peach hanging from a top branch, “to talk about the new harvest equipment Ayden suggested.”
She passed the fruit to me, and I took it, nodding absently.
Was he seriously considering stepping into the business?
“How close are they?” I asked, recalling Aeron with Ayden and Allen at the volunteer interview day. It was the first time I'd seen Aeron like that—not distant or reserved.
“They grew up together.” We settled onto the stone bench in the shade, brushing a fallen leaf aside.
“Ayden’s mom worked for our family, so he was always around, playing with Aeron.
She passed away when he was about seven—she’d been sick for a long time—and after that, we took him in. He’s been ours ever since.”
I rolled the peach between my palms, thinking how thoughtful it was of the Ashbournes, not sending Ayden away when he was small and alone, but bringing him in, making him theirs. Giving him a family.
“Astrid, thank you.” Mabel squeezed my hands.
“You already thanked me, but I’ll happily accept another round.”
“Oh, please. I can thank you a thousand times for the apple pies alone.” Her eyes twinkled before her smile softened into something deeper. “But this one’s special. Thank you for bringing the smile back on my stubborn son’s face. You know, it’s been years since I have seen his real smile.”
“Aeron told you?” My voice shot up about two octaves, my eyes embarrassingly wide.
“I’m his mom, Astrid. Moms can see right into their sons’ hearts,” she said. “Don’t tell him I said this, but lately he’s been smiling to himself. He’ll just be walking along, then suddenly stop, smile at nothing, shake his head, and move on. I've caught him doing it more than once.”
“He seriously does that?” I pressed my palms to my eyes, half-laughing, half-hiding. I absolutely couldn’t imagine Aeron stopping mid step and smiling at himself like an idiot, but I was imagining it anyway, my brain moving at a million miles per hour, and oh my god, he was cute. Way too cute.
“He did! Believe me,” she said. “After his dad died, he just..
.pulled away. Left home, came around once a year, and even then, barely stayed long enough for me to really see him.
I'd worry myself sick wondering if he'd lost weight, if he was even taking care of himself.
I have no idea what convinced him to stay this year, but whatever it was, I'm grateful.” She paused, her eyes softened, almost tearful.
“Because now there's you, Astrid. I haven't seen him smile like this in forever. You're good for him.”
My throat tightened. Was I really the reason he’d started smiling again? I didn’t know if it was true, but I liked the thought.
When Kelly told me Aeron rarely came home, I’d figured it was because of his demanding job as a wildlife photographer. But I realized now he wasn't chasing anything, he was running away—running away from everything he didn't know how to face.
“Why does… his sister blame him?” I picked my words carefully for Mabel's sake, though what I really wanted was to let loose every ounce of irritation I felt toward that woman.
Mabel took a deep breath. “Aeron doesn’t like anyone talking about that incident. He'd probably hate that I'm telling you even this much, but…” She looked at me as if she was passing something precious to me. “When he’s ready to talk, it’ll be with you.”
I internally scoffed. Last time I tried, he’d shooed me away like I was some raccoon.
“I’m sorry, Astrid. This was supposed to be our fun little catch-up, but look at me, dumping my emotional baggage all over you,” She sighed.
“You can make it up to me by telling me about your secret ingredient in your pasta.”
“Deal.” She grinned. “Let’s go.”
We made our way back inside, and soon we were side by side in the kitchen, Mabel stirring the sauce, me chopping veggies.
As we cooked, she entertained me with the town gossip and town hall dramas, Aunt Dee’s dramas to be specific.
I quickly forgot our age gap. She felt less like someone’s mom and more like a friend I'd always had.
While the pasta boiled, she added a splash of red wine, then revealed her secret weapon: anchovy paste.
I wrinkled my nose on instinct, even with her warning. Sure enough, when she squeezed it in, a strong briny smell filled the kitchen, but seconds later, it was replaced by a mouthwatering aroma.
“Is Aeron coming back for lunch?” I asked, resisting the urge to sneak a taste from the saucepan. Self-control, Astrid. Civil people use plates.
Mabel smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you call and ask him yourself? He’d probably set a new land-speed record getting here.”
Even his mom could see exactly how obvious he'd become.
“That would ruin the surprise. Besides, I’m having fun hanging out with you, and collecting all of his embarrassing secrets.”
“I’m glad my company’s been entertaining,” she said, smiling slightly, “but if you need more of Aeron’s secrets, there’s a better place to dig.”
My curiosity perked up. “Where?”
She gave me a knowing look. “His room.”
I glanced toward the stairs, then back at her. ”Exactly how much trouble would I be in if I just...?”
“Not even a little,” she said, waving me off. “Hurry, before he comes back. I’ve got your back.”
I pushed open his bedroom door, stepping into a room washed in warm browns and muted taupes—the walls, the furniture, even the floor all matching that attractive shade of his eyes.
I flopped onto his bed, sinking into the softness. My fingers brushed over the sheets, and my traitorous brain offered up an entirely inappropriate image of Aeron right here, bedhead hair, half-asleep eyes, very shirtless.
My face went hot.
Focus, Astrid. You’re not here to daydream.