Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
ESTELLE
Then
Estelle had protested when Ray had handed her the tickets to England and onward.
She had things to do back home, and she didn’t want to leave so soon after her friend had given birth, especially since baby Matt was colicky, and Darla was fraught with lack of sleep.
To travel now felt ill-timed, but nevertheless, he’d insisted.
She’d go to England and meet up with his contacts, do what needed to be done, and then spend the summer in Scandinavia.
She’d be playing a few gigs here and there, but mostly he wanted her to write and record songs for her first album.
“You’ve been under so much pressure lately,” he’d said. “Sweden is wonderful this time of year, and the change of scenery will do you good. We’ll still be here when you get back in August, and then you’ll have your head on straight again.”
Maybe he had a point, she thought, looking out at the creampuff clouds on the other side of the airplane window.
Her head was somewhat askew at the moment.
So much had happened since she’d moved to Nashville a year ago.
Professionally, it was all good, but she wasn’t used to having someone else in her business all the time.
A drowsy groan came from the seat next to her as if to underscore that crowded feeling. Estelle put her elbows up on the tray table and rested her forehead in her hands. What it boiled down to was—she trusted Ray. So far, he’d never steered her wrong, which meant this was the right thing to do.
“Is everything okay here?” a stewardess asked above her.
“It’s the turbulence,” Estelle said. “Motion sickness. Do you have another bag?”
“Of course. I’ll bring some water too.”
It would be over soon, she told herself. This detour didn’t mean her path forward had changed. Like Ray had said, it would pick back up exactly where she’d left it upon her return. She might even be better off. More experiences meant more material to draw from in her writing. Better stories.
She leaned back in her seat again as the bright blue sky outside softened into lilac and yellow with the setting sun.
Yes. Everything would be all right.
She was Estelle Lavigne now, and unlike Milnes, Lavignes prevailed.